Mighty Explosive – Exploring Midoriya and Bakugou’s Rivalry in “My Hero Academia”

Tags

analysis, anime, bakugou, boku no hero academia, comics, izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, manga, midoriya, my hero academia, television

Disclaimer: The following post contains spoilers for My Hero Academia’s anime and manga. Proceed with caution.

PREAMBLE: MIGHT AS WELL (SHONEN) JUMP

Weekly Shonen Jump is one of Japan’s most popular comic anthologies, and a part of book publisher Shueisha Inc.’s line of Jump magazines. These books have hosted a number of stories since 1968, including Mazinger Z, Dragon Ball, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and Naruto. Shonen Jump’s most popular stories most known for being about hot-blooded youngsters – namely young boys or men – fighting to achieve some kind of lofty goal, whether it’s defeat an ancient evil, become king of all pirates, or rise among the ranks of pro basketball players.

Many Shonen Jump titles are also characterized by young people with super-powers kicking the tar out of each other. They follow the formula of a gung-ho protagonist setting out on a quest for glory. Said protagonist is typically driven to achieve his goal by any means necessary and is often (but not always) something of a goofball or at least incredibly rambunctious. They make plenty of friends and allies along the way – some of whom are their former rivals – and are often accompanied by a weaker but somewhat plot-relevant character. That latter character’s purpose is generally to tag along and narrate what the hero’s up to during their battles, to be left dumbstruck by their opponents’ skills, and then to be wowed by the way the hero turns things around. Said character’s role is not merely to serve as a cheerleader for the protagonist, but also to provide context to the readers as to what’s happening.

Outside of a small handful of titles, few have tried to play around with that format, but those that have managed to produce some very compelling results. Kohei Horikoshi’s My Hero Academia is one such title.

PART ONE: SUPER-DUPER

In the world of My Hero Academia, 80% of the world’s population has a Quirk that they can pass on to their children. Quirks range from your garden-variety super-power (such as pyrokinesis or phasing through matter) or to being born with the physical characteristics of an animal (such as being born with the head of a bird, or possessing the tongue and jumping power of a frog). Our protagonist, Izuku Midoriya, is part of the 20% of the population that isn’t super-powered, but is passionate about Quirks and idolizes the many superheroes (known simply as “heroes” in this universe) that living in his world – particularly the strong and stalwart symbol of peace All-Might. Heroes themselves are licensed professionals similar to firefighters or police officers, and Midoriya wants to become a hero to help those in need much like his idol, but his lack of superpowers keeps him from achieving that dream.

One day, he’s visited by All-Might and becomes selected to be his successor after proving himself in a battle with a tenacious sludge monster. All-Might’s Quirk, One For All, is a Quirk that not only greatly increases one’s physical strength and speed, but can also be passed on to other people. This nets Midoriya the chance of a lifetime, and he begins his hero training at the illustrious UA High School, alongside his former childhood friend Katsuki Bakugou, a temperamental and prideful boy who can make things explode by converting his sweat into nitroglycerin (don’t ask).

Bakugou and Midoriya are at odds with one another due to a stark difference in ideology. When Bakugou’s Quirk manifested, everyone from his peers to his teachers praised him and treated him like he was special while Midoriya was essentially ignored and bullied by those around him. This led to Bakugou pushing his friend away because he saw a world of Winners and Losers, and saw Midoriya as one of the losers. Conversely, Midoriya saw something else entirely; he saw, in his own words, that not everyone was equal.

These are two very different things.

Midoriya sees people in need and people who can help those in need. When Midoriya sees his friends and comrades suffer, his first instinct is to jump in. This is a strength that he taps into before he inherits One For All, and it’s what makes him a candidate to essentially become the next All-Might. This is because Midoriya sees gaps that need to be filled, and that people should step in to help others even if they’re not qualified or trained to do so. With Bakugou, this couldn’t be any more different. Bakugou believes in a hierarchy where the strong are to be praised and supported by the weak. Bakugou refuses to let anybody help him, because not being able to stand up for himself or get by using his own strength is, in his mind, something that will hobble him.

In Bakugou’s world, he is not just bound to be a hero but also the hero, the protagonist, and that we are reading his story — and yet, it’s Midoriya who stands in the spotlight.

PART TWO: PROTAGONIST SATURNALIA

In any other manga or anime of this type, My Hero Academia’s protagonist would have been Bakugou, and Midoriya would have been his plucky Quirkless sidekick who provided colour commentary during battles such as Manta from Shaman King, or would be superpowered but ultimately ineffective in battles like Krillin from Dragon Ball Z. We can see that in Bakugou’s design, as he is already a composite of several other leading lads from other popular manga series. His appearance immediately brings to mind the title character of Naruto and Natsu Dragneel from Fairy Tail. Both are series led by hot-headed, spiky-haired youth who are respected and revered by those around them, heroes who breeze through their challenges with relative ease, steadily getting stronger and gaining more allies along the way.

However, rather than be a carbon copy of those characters, Bakugou is instead depicted as an entitled dirtbag who treats everyone around him like competition, even when they’re being nice to him, but also doubts himself in his darker moments. Character traits that would normally be endearing or quirky (for lack of a better term) in any other series are shown from another angle. We see Bakugou as a brash and insecure firebrand who wants people to see him as the guiding light for the world to follow. Bakugou is undeserving of a rag-tag team of weirdoes to help him achieve his dream because he’s a mean-spirited and divisive bully.

This is where his dynamic with Midoriya gets interesting. Midoriya undergoes a transition from observer to participant, opting out of becoming another Krillin-type character early on. He’s not satisfied with merely cheering people on from the sidelines, and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. In fact, one could argue that one of Midoriya’s superpowers is his power of observation. Being “The Krillin” or “The Manta” on some level not only helps him understand how his friends’ and foes’ Quirks function, but he’s able to apply that level of observation to the people around him, reading their emotions and being able to motivate people to succeed or be better people by being heroic rather than “being the hero.”

What also makes Izuku Midoriya so interesting is that, compared to other Shonen Jump protagonists, he doesn’t breeze through his trials unfazed, and yet even his failures make him a better person and are even inspiring to other characters.

Midoriya’s driven by a need to help others but is also hindered by the power he’s inherited. Because Midoriya’s a tiny teenager, he has to train constantly in order to keep One For All from essentially killing him. Even then, he runs the risk of breaking all the bones in his limbs if he doesn’t measure himself – and often does. In fact, the first time Midoriya uses his Quirk is to take down a giant robot, but doing so destroys both his legs and shatters his punching arm from knuckles to shoulder. There is a school medic who can miraculously heal people, but her powers can’t help him every time, and so Midoriya has to learn to control what he has. Midoriya realizes early on that power has a cost, and it’s one that he has to pay in full unless he learns to reel himself in. It’s a humbling moment, but it helps him better understand his limits.

Meanwhile, although he does experience setbacks, Bakugou is significantly  formidable, walking away from battles relatively unscathed, and yet everyone still resents him, and he doesn’t seem to make the progress he wants to make. For a great example of this, look no further than the tournament arc.

PART THREE: THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP

Normally, tournament arcs are defined by the major players in the story fighting their way through hordes of jobbers until everyone finally squares off with each other, normally with the protagonist coming out on top. Furthermore, it’s during the fights between the more significant characters that we learn more about their motivations, and usually they end up finding common ground among our main characters. Some characters during these arcs even become series regulars and fight alongside our heroes later on.

In My Hero Academia, Izuku Midoriya doesn’t even become one of the final four combatants. In fact, he gets knocked out in the second round of matches, which is virtually unheard of for a series like this. However, it is in that second match that he ends up fighting with another hero trainee, Shoto Todoroki, who has been played up from the start as being a Pretty Big Deal.

Todoroki is the stoic son of the powerful but abusive hero Endeavour. He possesses both his father’s fire powers and his mother’s ice powers, but refuses to use the abilities of the former. Shoto doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes, and won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his abilities utilized in the battlement. In their match-up, Midoriya convinces him to use both his powers at once through a seize-hold-of-your-destiny speech. This results in Midoriya losing the fight but winning a friend and trusted ally, as well as the respect of his peers and elders.

When Bakugou and Todoroki have their fight, which is the last match of the tourney, Todoroki refuses to use his fire powers because he needs to process this change that’s coming over him, and in doing so ends up losing. Bakugou wins the tournament, but it’s a hollow victory. Midoriya robbed him of what should have been a character-building moment for any major Shonen Jump protagonist. While there is no way Bakugou would ever be able to get through to someone in the same way Midoriya does, the fact that someone who would have normally been relegated to the support role in an SJ narrative made one of the more powerful characters in the series doubt himself has left Bakugou vexed.

This, among many other moments in the series, leads to the already-tense relationship between Midoriya and Bakugou becoming further strained and tested.

FINAL WORD: ANIME MAGNETISM

Writing this all out makes me wonder whether or not the rivalry between Midoriya and Bakugou is actually somehow talking about Shonen Jump protagonists themselves. Midoriya is not just the Krillin/Manta character, but has also inherited the silly charismatic strategist side of your bargain-bin Shonen Jump protagonist, while Bakugou is very much a manifestation of the relentless fighting machine side of those same characters.

Perhaps this is truly why they are at odds with each other. Imagine if someone like Kenshin Himura or Monkey D. Luffy was divided into two characters and they were forced to interact with each other. There would be endless animosity. They would not be able to stand the sight of each other, but, somehow, they would have to work together, because at the end of the day their goals are the same.

It would also be why Midoriya and Bakugou will eventually need to mend things. Midoriya needs Bakugou’s fighting spirit in much the same way Bakugou needs Midoriya’s empathy and intelligence, and when forced to work together, they can achieve great things. Their past friendship and time together as classmates means that they understand each other, even if one clearly despises the other. Whether they want to admit or not, despite their differences and incongruities, they need each other.

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A Quick Word About “Little Witch Academia’s” Stance on Celebrity Worship

Tags

anime, little witch academia, television

Disclaimer: The following has a number of spoilers for Little Witch Academia, a show which wrapped up just now. Be advised. Also, watch Little Witch Academia.

I loved Little Witch Academia.

I know my articles have focused quite a bit on Japanese pop culture as of late (and with my huge post on Persona 5 on the way, let me say you’re not out of the woods just yet), but hear me out. Studio Trigger routinely produces some high-quality stuff, from anti-fashion slobberknocker Kill La Kill to heartwarming sci-fi drama Kiznaiver, but it was their first in-house production, a short film called Little Witch Academia, that turned a lot of heads. Recently, Academia was turned into a 25-episode television series, and aired its final episode this week, and it was good. Damn good.

There’s a lot I love about this show. I love all the cues the animation team took from western animation, and the distinctly Looney Tunes-esque feel of some of the humour. I love the swells of the music and the art direction, and I can’t wait to track down any art book that spawns from this production. I love how much of a goof the protagonist Akko is, and how she’s both loud and obnoxious with all the grace of a winged hog but also driven and deeply compassionate. I love how she never comes off as completely annoying, and how I ended up rooting for her as early as the first episode. I love how the girls aren’t sexualized. I love how diverse the cast is, and how –

What? Oh, yeah, you read that right: the girls aren’t sexualized. Okay, sure, the skirts on the uniforms aren’t exactly regulation length, but Little Witch Academia steers clear of the gross tropes found in any other anime series featuring an all-girl school. There’s no moment where potential love-interest and Justin Trudeau-lookalike Andrew Hambridge walks in on Akko in the changing-room. There’s not an onsen or a beach episode in sight. There aren’t any jiggle-physics or panty-shots or leering camera angles on the girls as they slept or lounged around. It’s not a creative decision I expected from the same company that made tits-akimbo slap-‘em-up Kill La Kill and its thong-clad protagonists.

All these elements are Good and Great, but what I really like about the show is what it has to say about idol worship, celebrity culture, and inspiration.

Our premise is simple enough. Atsuko Kagari, AKA Akko, is an aspiring witch attending the illustrious magic academy Luna Nova. Akko stands out because she’s not only the sole Japanese student at this school, but also the only one who doesn’t come from a family of sorcerers. Akko was inspired to become a witch because she loves magic and is a huge fan of witch-turned-performer Shiny Chariot, whose stage shows she attended when she was younger. However, Akko struggles with magic, and seems unable to properly perform it.

After her first excursion to Luna Nova goes south and Akko finds Chariot’s old wand in the middle of a forest, Akko becomes more driven to accomplish her dreams. Despite her difficulties with mastering the mystic arts, from her inability to ride a broom to her comically clumsy attempts at advanced magic, Akko still plans to become a witch who can make the world smile as Chariot once did.

What Little Witch Academia makes clear is that there’s no point in becoming the next iteration of the person you idolize. Not only are your experiences radically different from the people you want to be like, but if you were to meet your idols and express that desire then they’re likely to tell you that’s a bad idea. The series does, however, say that your relationship to your passions should be unique to yourself, and if you wish to become like someone you admire in the career you want to be in, then maintaining your identity is integral.

This is demonstrated as early as the fourth episode, when Akko’s friend Lotte is given the opportunity to write future iterations of her favourite book series. Rather than take up the torch, Lotte admits it’s best for her to remain a fan of what she loves rather than be a contributor, because rooting for the people you admire means more to her. Then, in episode 11, Akko is offered a prosperous future by a spirit, identical to Chariot’s in every way, but in exchange for Akko’s past and memories. Akko then refuses this offer and exclaims that she does not want to abandon her identity just so she can become another Chariot. Later on, Akko learns that attending Chariot’s magic shows actually hindered her ability to use magic, and that while she does have the passion and commitment needed to be a witch, her obsession with her idol ultimately hobbled her.

This is crucial because celebrity culture – particularly in the arts – is obsessed with this idea of the next generation of entertainers. Recently, for example, I came across articles that pondered whether Mahershala Ali was the next Idris Elba, or whether Tomi Adeyemi or Samantha Shannon were the next JK Rowling. In the eyes of the public, an artist is not allowed to stand by their own merits. They have to be compared to another household name.

Little Witch Academia, meanwhile, explicitly rejects that idea. It makes it clear that Akko’s passion for magic and a bright future should not be confused with her obsession with her idol. The fact that the ultimate symbol of Akko’s magical hobbling is her ability to fly hammers this point home. Comparing yourself to your heroes weighs you down, and you’re not able to reach your potential if that happens. She does take many cues from her idol, especially in the final battle with a demonic missile the main antagonist fires when she puts on a Chariot-worthy light show for the world to see. However, by giving it what I would best describe as an Akko-worthy spin, it’s as much her own thing as it is a tribute to her idol, and in the closing credits we are treated the moment we’ve been waiting for since the very first episode – Akko’s first flight on her broom.

For Akko, her journey is not about becoming the next Shiny Chariot – it’s about becoming the first Atsuko Kagari.

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A Quick Word About “Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan’s” Subject Matter

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anime, anime review, galko, galko-chan, oshiete! galko-chan, please tell me galko, review, television

The following has spoilers for a twelve-episode series you can probably watch in an hour or two depending on how you pace yourself. Anyway, be advised, I guess.

Against my better judgment, I ended up watching all twelve episodes of Japanese web-anime series Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan or Please tell me, Galko! Against all logic, I ended up enjoying all twelve episodes of Japanese web-anime series Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan or Please tell me, Galko!

I think it’s because, back in the dark days of high school, I was super-into this one Japanese cartoonime called Azumanga Daioh, a show adapted from a newspaper comic about six high school girls and three of their teachers embarking on oddball – but still somewhat grounded in reality – adventures together. I liked it because it was a breath of fresh air for popular high school-based anime series that seemed to focus on either power levels and long-winded fights or one boy’s quest to never get a girlfriend despite having multiple options. Azumanga was just about six kids goofing around, playing off of each other’s quirks, and trying to make sense of the world, and that was refreshing.

Let me be clear: I don’t believe Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan has inherited that fire from Azumanga. That, in my opinion, would be something like Turning Girls, a show about four women facing the onset of their thirties and figuring out what kind of adults they are. What’s more, much unlike Azumanga, Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan does its damndest to pack in as much cheesecake as possible.

That said, I found something fun about Oshiete and the way it messed around with the idea of how a character is perceived versus who they really are. Challenging stereotypes is the name of Oshiete’s game, illustrated well with the main protagonists. Title character Galko is kinder and more empathetic than the spray-tanned airheads she’s modelled after, and her comrades Otako and Ojou – the nerd girl and the rich girl in any other series – are similarly well-realized. Otako is a biting intellectual who teases and criticizes everyone around her rather than be the subject of ridicule herself; and Ojou, despite being wealthy beyond compare, is far from an erudite and is in fact quite vapid and clueless.

There’s also the matter of what these characters are often discussing, which leads to the biggest misdirection the pastel-coloured web-toon has to offer. Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan is – to the show’s benefit and detriment – unbelievably frank and lurid. The main characters are always talking about extremely personal topics that wouldn’t be touched in any other show about girls-being-girls, such as period cramps, comfortable toilet paper, and, uh, “shaving.”

Immediately, I was recalling another series of this stripe that I didn’t think I’d enjoy, and that was HBO’s Girls. I thought the first season was tight enough for me to not give a shit about anything after it, and while I’m not sure I’d give it a re-watch, I appreciate the fact that Season One exists at all.* It served as a nice counter-balance to shows like Sex In The City, which are notoriously bloodless and safe and tell a story from the perspective of four upper-class working women. HBO’s Girls, meanwhile, showed four middle class white women getting drunk, doing drugs, having awkward on-screen sex, and trying to figure themselves out. One of the protagonists even catches HPV, something that would never be addressed in any given Julia Roberts rom-com.

That’s why Oshiete left me so interested, really. I’ve been in it for a minute as far as anime goes, and over the years I grew increasingly vexed by the “throngs of cute girls servicing one guy” series that were in excess. Shows like Kanon or Hanankyo Maid Tai always presented their female leads as stylized archetypes and objects of desire rather than real people, and the series I’ve caught glimpses of that tried to ride Azumanga’s coat-tails did little but present their audience with cute archetypes but cut out the lead males to make them more “available” to the audience, as it were.

While Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan does this to some extent, it has the courtesy to be, well, uncourteous in its characters’ conversations, while being sure to have fun along the way. I take comfort in knowing that some of the teen boys and manbabies watching this will cringe when the protagonists end up discussing whether they prefer pads to tampons.

Really, the biggest slight against Oshiete is the fact that all these characters are in high school. I mean, I get that many anime series are set in high school because that’s largely the target audience because they’re more likely to have the most time and disposable income in a work-‘til-you-die country like Japan, but it’s still an unnerving trend and I can’t shake the feeling that all this is somehow feeding into someone’s weird fetish. Especially when the characters are talking about their hypothetical sex habits. Like, ugh, send the animators home to their wives, please.

That being said, this Bridesmaids-meets-Breakfast Club combination was not something I expected out of a show like Oshiete. I appreciate it for what it is, even though I can’t wholly recommend it to anyone who isn’t already a fan of the “young ladies hanging around” subgenre. It is, as I said, a far cry from Turning Girls (WHERE’S SEASON TWO, YOU MONSTERS?!), but as far as these kinds of anime series go, it’s a welcome needle against the balloon.

* It was a shame that the story of Girls chose to focus on four white protagonists rather than mix-and-match the characters’ ethnicities and sexualities, since doing so would open up some super-interesting discussion points about, say, being Black or Asian or Gay in modern-day New York. Maybe HBO could tap Ava DuVernay or Shona Rhimes for their next project? I dunno who’s free.

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A Quick Word About “Atlanta’s” Surreal Humanity

Tags

analysis, atlanta, atlanta (tv series), donald glover, hiro murai, television

Disclaimer: The following contains spoilers for the first season of Atlanta. Proceed with caution.

The old adage goes that truth is stranger than fiction, and all one has to do to prove that point is look up pictures from any given Burning Man festival. Chances are that you, good reader, have that one friend who seems to be a shit magnet and attracts trouble wherever they go. My own father grew up poor and worked as a travelling musician and has seen his share of dive bars, close calls, oddball encounters, and human misery throughout his life. What is great about these people is that these experiences season them, and they are always willing to share them with you.

Writer, musician, and actor Donald Glover is that person in your life. Anyone familiar with his stand-up sets like Weirdo and the more out-there tracks produced by his Childish Gambino persona knows this well. His new television series, Atlanta, is a love letter to the strange and scary side of life. Glover himself commented that the events in Atlanta were based on things he and the staff experienced in their own lives. The end result is a show that is both highly surreal but also deeply human because of those aspects.

Atlanta follows Earnest “Earn” Marks, a Princeton drop-out struggling to support his on-again off-again girlfriend Vanessa and their daughter Lotti. While at his job at the airport trying to sign people up for credit cards, he learns that his cousin Alfred has become an internet sensation and independent rapper named Paper Boi, and teams up with him in a bid to improve both of their lives. On its own, the premise is a rags-to-riches story we know, love, and can relate to. However, it’s what orbits that premise that makes it so distinct.

The series utilizes certain key tropes popularized by what’s known as the screwball comedy genre. Screwball Comedies were a popular type of farcical cinema during the Great Depression, designed to invert the principles and values of regular cinema and comedies. The standard screwball comedy would show upper-class people as snobby and inept and romance as rife with troubles, all with a script full of sharp dialogue and humour that sometimes ventured into out-there territory.

We can see aspects of this genre as early as the first episode. Much of the humour is dark and even a little heady, and makes it clear that this series is not exactly a laugh-a-minute comedy. Earn and Vanessa have a strained relationship, with Earn sleeping at Vanessa’s place despite her planning a date for the night. A mysterious and sinister stranger on a bus who is aware of Earn’s circumstances comforts our hero shortly before violently demanding Earn take a bite of a Nutella sandwich he prepared while talking to him. The show is even willing to tap at its own fourth wall as Lakeith Stanfield’s character Darius comments on a moment of Deja Vu in the cold open which repeats (if partially) at the end of the first episode. The criticisms of classism prominent in traditional screwball exist here, too, with a dose of racism mixed in for good measure. This is especially shown with the white DJ who Earn uses to promote Paper Boi’s career, one who’s all-too keen to casually drop pejoratives in front of Earn despite not using them in front of any of his black co-workers.

Opening episodes are meant as primers for telling viewers what they can expect later in the series. They lay out the themes and style of the series, the basic structure of each episode, who our protagonists are and what kind of characters we can expect later. Atlanta sets this up expertly. The themes of classism and racism are revisited with Earn’s harrowing experiences in police custody in the next episode, and in Episode Nine when he and Vanessa attend a Juneteenth party hosted by a rich couple that fetishizes the plight of black people. Vanessa and Earnest’s tumultuous relationship is explored further, showing the both of them struggling to work things out and fall in love again. Earnest and his friends go on a series of exploits that are as entertaining as they are deeply unnerving.

What’s more, that strangeness is revisited time and again as well, from satirical commercials to choices of targets at a shooting range, but whatever experiences the characters have are not outside the realm of possibility. Even the invisible car from Episode Eight seems like something that could be made, given the push to develop invisibility tech. This is all to say nothing of the mannerisms and observations of the Human LSD Trip that is Paper Boi’s friend Darius, who is basically the spirit of the series made manifest. Darius is regularly cracked out and seems to operate on moon logic, but does have one foot on the ground at all times.

Other series will skirt around the edges of difficult subject matter and oddball situations, but won’t take the plunge for fear it will turn into an extended PSA or the later seasons of Family Matters where Urkel builds a machine that turns people into Bruce Lee. Atlanta’s willingness to get raw and enter bizarre territory without overdoing it makes the show more uniquely human and adds something to the struggles and perspectives of our protagonists. By embracing this, Atlanta becomes more than a show worth binge-watching and blossoms into this poignant and beautiful serial about the odds stacked against black youth, the struggles of becoming an entertainer, and what it really means to need another human being.

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Much Ado About Malachite

Tags

analysis, animation, steven universe, television

This post is going to be loaded with spoilers for Steven Universe so continue at your own peril.

PREAMBLE: WE ARE THE CRYSTAL DISCOURSE

I’ve been catching up with Steven Universe lately, and I’m not regretting it. I was curious about the Sailor-Moon-but-with-Serena/Usagi’s-dorky-son premise since the pilot dropped years ago, and finally got around to watching it en masse last year. Overall, as an American answer to the magical girl subgenre, it’s a good series. Its appeal seems to come from the fact that it’s both a children’s show and an adult show told from a child’s perspective. While it’s easy to get swept up in the vibrant visuals, comedy, and action the series has to offer, at the core there’s a story about war, genocide, classism, and loss, with a clueless child protagonist forced to carry on his mother’s legacy at the centre of it all.

Normally, this would have been a trash series where every main character constantly angsts out because of some long-standing trauma that never gets resolved. What we have instead, however, is a series that’s actually surprisingly colourful and optimistic. It seems to be a trend in Cartoon Network’s shows over the past few years to present complex and frightening themes to young audiences, and that’s great. Children are more resilient than we give them credit for, and as they get older they have the capacity to understand how deep and nuanced their surroundings are. Having media that doesn’t treat them as emotionally and mentally fragile sub-entities is incredibly important.

Unfortunately, what we end up seeing more often than not are alleged adults fighting for supremacy over the fandom that particular show births.

There is merit in arguing over the themes and ideas presented in art. Art, after all, means something different for different people, and it’s worth discussing. If I didn’t think that, this WordPress account would not exist. There is something to be said, however, about people who look at Lapis and Jasper’s relationship, and say that Jasper was the victim in that scenario.

I’ll give a quick recap: Steven Universe is the story of a half-alien boy whose mother led a rebellion against her own people in order to save the Earth, and is presently being raised by her three remaining generals. Towards the end of the first season, the antagonist Jasper makes an appearance, bringing with her the character Lapis Lazuli (and yes all the aliens are named after gemstones because they’re all supposed to be sentient gems that take on humanoid appearances). Lapis is a Gem with self-esteem issues and obvious signs of shell-shock who was trapped on Earth for a long time and escaped to her home-world, only to get dragged back.

In the last episode of the season, Lapis is manipulated into fusing with Jasper in a bid to become a stronger, more powerful Gem called Malachite. Lapis uses this opportunity to drag Jasper to the bottom of the ocean, where they spend the entire next season battling each other mostly off-screen. In season three, they re-emerge and are forced apart by the heroes, and midway through the season Jasper reappears and makes a plea to form Malachite again – which Lapis outright refuses.

Many have already compared Lapis and Jasper’s situation to that of an abusive relationship, or at the very least an unhealthy one, and as such it would be very easy to dismiss the people who dump on Lapis’ side of the “relationship.” One can accuse the claims as being the opinions of manchildren rushing to Jasper’s defense because she is the most masculine-looking out of all the Gems, or are bored teenagers trying to get a rise out of the fandom’s overly-sensitive chapters. It is possible, however, that there are some people who do see Lapis as the actual villain, and have their own reasons for it. Whichever side of this fence you do sit on, however, it’s pretty apparent that having Lapis and Jasper fuse together again would be a very bad idea – at least at this stage.

There are some big questions circling the whole Jasper/Lapis situation. Who’s in the right? Will they ever form Malachite again? Should they ever form Malachite again? In order to answer these questions, we need to ask some different ones. We need to look at who and what Jasper and Lapis are, as well as what the concept of fusion means.

Let’s dig deep, children.

PART ONE: INTRODUCTIONS ARE IN ORDER

You can tell a lot about a character based on their introduction. In much the same way the first sentence of a book is meant to drag a reader into the story, first impressions in other forms of storytelling are incredibly important. To give you an idea of what I mean, let’s run through some examples within Steven Universe’s own first episode, Gem Glow.

When we officially meet the titular Steven, he is crying to his friends about the Cookie Cat brand of ice cream sandwiches being discontinued. His first lines of dialogue are: “No! This can’t be happening! This has to be a dream!” It’s an unnecessarily dramatic reaction to such a development, but given that Steven appears to be about ten years old, we expect this. In the same scene, he laments that people seem to prefer the rival brand of Lion Lickers, stating “Kids these days, I tell you what.”

After being presented with the special fridge Cookie Cats were stored in by his friends, we follow Steven home and are introduced to the Crystal Gems, his adoptive mothers. Here, we see the Gems engaging in combat with a hoard of monsters, acid-spitting creatures called centipeetles that disappear into clouds of smoke when they’re hit hard enough. We’ll get back to Steven in a minute, but for a moment let’s meet the Gems. Their fighting styles here tell us a lot about them, so let’s deconstruct them a bit further before moving on.

First, we meet Amethyst, catching one of the aforementioned centipeetles with her whip just before it tries to eat Steven, greeting him briefly before she nonchalantly hurls it over her shoulder to an unknown fate. This is a good way to introduce Amethyst’s reckless abandon and her relationship to Steven. It also shows us that Amethyst has a lackadaisical approach to life, and that she puts the people around her in peril, a theme that will come up often.

Next, we see Pearl, artfully dispatching creatures in a manner that reminds one of both ballet dancing and shaolin kung-fu. During the fight, she is positioned near the back, standing atop the warp gate the heroes use to travel around the world. Pearl is a character defined by grace and discipline, serving as the stuffy nanny of the group who tries to maintain some semblance of order around her and keep Steven out of trouble. As such, it would make sense for her to draw her foes as far from the others as possible, while also blocking the only other exit out of the house – the one that leads to the more exciting parts of the planet.

Finally, we have Garnet, the cool-headed bruiser of the group. Garnet catches an airborne centipeetle and breaks it over her knee, using to club a second before knocking aside a third and a fourth. The fifth lands on her head, and she proceeds to pull it right in half before casually walking away. Here, we have an image of Garnet as being brutal and powerful, but also in control of that power. Nothing seems to faze her, and it’s very true that throughout the show she seems to be one of the more seasoned Gems, and it will make the moments when she becomes emotional shocking and gratifying. Garnet pulling apart a centipeetle is also great foreshadowing for the big reveal that she’s a fusion, and the moment when her two halves of Ruby and Sapphire are forced to separate.

Getting back to Steven, his involvement during this display is to marvel over the monsters infesting his home, sad that the Gems have to get rid of them. When Garnet proposes going on a hunt for the centipeetle queen, he expresses excitement and wants to tag along, only to have the thought shot down by Pearl. Not long after, he discovers that the Gems bought and hoarded a bunch of Cookie Cats for him to enjoy. His immediate reaction is to break out into song, and recite the jingle/rap ballad of the mascot’s life, a quirky but extremely tragic story of war and abandonment.

In four minutes, we know what kind of person Steven Universe is. Steven is a child who becomes incredibly attached to the things around him, no matter how fantastical or mundane they might be. Whether it’s an ice cream sandwich or an acid-spitting monster, all of these things are beautiful to him and need to be both preserved and protected. He wishes to be seen as wiser than he really is, and be better respected by those around him. Plus, coming back to this episode wrapping up the first season shows viewers that his connection to the spacefaring refugee Cookie Cat might be deeper than we think. Did Steven perhaps see his mother in a snack food mascot? That’s another essay.

Anyway, so now you know where I’m coming from, and that means it’s time to ask what Lapis and Jasper’s introductions tell us about them.

PART TWO: HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER

We’re going to start with Lapis because she turned up first.

When we meet Lapis, she’s been trapped in a mirror for who-knows how long. Once Lapis is freed, we get this chilling back-shot of her materializing in front of the ocean. The colour scheme here is dark, adding to the air of mystery around this new Gem, and sets the tone for the sadness of her character. Lapis lands on the beach just before the angle shifts to show Steven staring at this bizarre woman that has appeared before him.

That first angle where Lapis’ Gem floats in front of the ocean is incredibly telling in of itself, because no-one else is in the shot with her. These seven seconds of animation tell me everything I need to know about Lapis: she is a dark character drawn to the water because that is her elemental power, who is an elegant but ultimately lonely figure.

This is immediately hammered home by her first lines of dialogue to Steven, who had been protecting her and vouching for her up until that point: “Thank you. You didn’t – You actually talked to me. You helped me.” Gratitude, hesitation, and genuine surprise that anyone would care for her plight. That’s Lapis’ arc in a nutshell.

Jasper, meanwhile, presents us with a completely different type of character. Jasper arrives on Earth in a warship shaped like a massive hand, a complex symbol if there ever was one (although the FLCL reference was not lost on me). The pod containing her, scientist Gem Peridot, and the reluctant Lapis rolls onto the ship’s index finger, which slams onto the shore with a thunderous noise. Jasper immediately stands out here, because she’s the only Gem we haven’t met up until that point, but mostly because she is enormous and towers over the other Gems.

Then we have her first lines of dialogue – “This is it? Looks like another waste of my time.” – spoken as she descends onto the beach and surveys the site with a dissatisfied look, with the eerie green lighting adding to the dangerous ambiance and aesthetic of these first shots.

Already, we see Jasper as a proud warrior, disinterested in battling anyone that doesn’t pose a threat to her. Once Steven reveals himself to be Rose’s scion, Jasper suddenly lights up, and her desire to fight the Gems comes through. She delights in battle, and is way too happy to split Garnet apart and head-butt a child, all the while with a wide, predatory grin on her face.

When we first see Lapis and Jasper together, it’s because Lapis is cowering behind the warrior Gem’s colossal form until Jasper grabs her by the arm and drags her into the scene. This not only further characterizes Jasper as something of a brute, but also sets the tone for her relationship with Lapis – and their fusion.

Fusion in the Steven Universe, er, universe is a tricky topic. The way it works is that Gems have the ability to combine together into a singular entity. Said entity not is only an amalgamation of the Gems’ powers but often has its own personality, which is itself born of its components. What’s interesting about these fusions is how they seem to represent the relationships these characters have with each other. We can see that in the surreal sense of beauty found in the greater fusions of Opal, Sardonyx, Sugilite, and Alexandrite. Their massive, many-armed forms remind one of Hindu deities like Kali or Durga, powerful and destructive protectors of humanity. However, they are able to move and function with ease. This tells us that, in spite of whatever deformations they have, they understand each other and are able to work with one another. This is what a positive relationship looks like. It isn’t perfect, but there is synergy here. It simply works.

And then there’s Malachite, who looks like a Bloodborne boss.

Let’s break down her design. Malachite has this wild mane of hair that sometimes obscures the two sets of eyes she has. Said eyes sometimes alternate in shape between sharing Jasper’s serpentine wickedness and Lapis’ perpetual wide-eyed wonder. Her canines are pronounced, which makes her mouth look considerably more bestial. While having an otherwise human torso, her lower half is most notable of all. Four arms spring out of an oblong thorax and provide the legs for the monster.

All at once, I was reminded of two things when I saw this design in full: the first was the centaur, the half-man half-horse of Greek mythology who were a notorious band of warrior-rapists that roamed the countryside; the second was the praying mantis, an insect that eats its sexual partners. Given that we’re talking about a fusion between an aggressive and forceful soldier and her broken but deceptively deadly water elemental companion, those comparisons are clear as day to me. In any case, Malachite’s appearance is monstrous and animalistic, lacking in the war-goddess looks channeled by the Crystal Gems’ fusions.

There’s also the fact that Malachite does not develop her own personality or voice, and if we follow the aforementioned comparison between fusions and relationships, this is important. Whatever relationships we form with others, be they romantic or platonic, there is a certain code or set of concepts that make up what that relationship is. These take the form of in-jokes, nicknames, a certain familiarity or understanding of one another’s needs. That which defines you remains, but there is a distinct dynamic that manifests. You become known as a unit.

Among the healthier fusions, this is demonstrated by having a separate voice actor. Garnet, for example, is voiced by Estelle, rather than Charlene Yi and Erica Luttrell talking over each other. She also has her own personality and opinions, her own likes and dislikes, and a unique temperament. She can get angry; she can be the voice of reason; above all else, however, she remains herself, and it’s in those times that we can see her components, Ruby and Sapphire, hard at work in maintaining their connection.

Malachite doesn’t get her own voice actor. That’s because with Malachite, there is no cohesion or compromise. There is no shared language. They are just Jasper and Lapis spliced together into an abomination. This is demonstrated perfectly in the episode Chille Tid, when Steven astral projects himself into Malachite’s dreams and witnesses Lapis and Jasper chained to each other, trying to keep their heads above water in an endless green ocean. As one rises, the other sinks deeper into the water, and Steven is forced to leave them there, fighting for control of this monster they’ve made.

PART THREE: TOGETHER AGAIN OR NEVER AGAIN?

Let’s go back to the questions I asked right at the beginning and answer them properly based on what we know.

First question: Who’s in the right?

First answer: Nobody.

Well, okay, Jasper did seize Lapis by the leg and slam her into the earth before proposing that they fuse together, and Lapis did accept the offer, only to cage Jasper in a watery tomb for months. I’m inclined to lean on Lapis’ side, and that’s not because she’s probably my favourite character in the show and I have a strong urge to defend my sadgirl aquawaifu. Although that’s totally why I’m on Lapis’ side.

Let’s be fair, though. Yes, Lapis and Jasper have done some odious things, but for different reasons. Lapis stole the world’s oceans, broke someone’s leg, and sold out the Crystal Gems to Homeworld, but being stuck in a mirror for thousands of years, unable to free yourself and see your family again would make you a little messed up. Jasper, meanwhile, knocked out a child, merged with Lapis by saying everyone else was out to get her, and then spent season three either stalking Lapis or assembling an army of Corrupted Gems. And yet, remember that Jasper was raised to be the best of the best, so every act of evil she performs feels like it is done more out of desperation and a need for validation rather than actual malice.

Second question: Will they ever form Malachite again?

Second answer: Not anytime soon.

Lapis already made that clear in Alone at Sea that she doesn’t want to be with Jasper, and Jasper only wants to fuse with someone because she feels weak without someone else’s support. It’s a bad idea. They hate each other. It wouldn’t end well.

However.

Third question: Should they ever form Malachite again?

Third answer: Maybe?

Forgiveness is a theme in the Steven universe (Ha! I knew I was going to do something clever with that). Steven’s mother Rose Quartz believed all life was precious and should be preserved. In flashbacks, she’s seen destroying Gem’s forms rather than shattering their stones, which would effectively kill them. Steven himself carries that spirit, showing empathy and love for everyone and everything around him, no matter what they are and what they do. He and the Crystal Gems reformed Peridot, helping her acknowledge how strange and wonderful the Earth actually is, and have been hard at work making Lapis feel loved and wanted.

This means it’s only a matter of time before Jasper gets redeemed.

If that were to happen, two things could transpire: they never form Malachite again because they’re simply incompatible, or they form again, but create something completely different. If that latter scenario were to come, maybe Malachite would take a different form, and look a little more complete and less monstrous. Remember, Garnet in the episode The Answer looked nothing like the way she does now. Her colours were off, one foot was bare, and there were holes in her garments. Perhaps Malachite 2.0 would change in much the same way Garnet did.

Or maybe it won’t be Malachite at all. Maybe it’ll be something else. Whatever it is, it will have to be on Lapis’ terms.

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