THESE PRECIOUS THINGS
A Feminist Critique of the Magical Girl Archetype as Seen in
Puella Magi Madoka Magica
He said you're really an ugly girl
But I like the way you play
And I died
But I thanked him.
Can you believe that?
Can you believe that?
~Tori Amos, These Precious Things
If you wish to watch the series, it can be found here on Crunchyroll. Secondly, this is an analysis of the first season of the anime series, based on subtitles. I understand that this means it is being translated and some word meanings may change, so it is best to view this as a critique from my understanding of the story. That should go without saying, but sometimes people need to be reminded. Also, spoilers. If you don't like spoilers, do not continue reading.
Introduction
When I first read about the magical girl series Puella Magi Madoka Magica, the author talked about how horrible it was. Not in terms of it being a bad series, but because it was so violent and emotionally horrible to the girls involved. It sounded ghastly. But as I read through the comments from others, I noticed a lot of them were defending the series and saying it was the best magical girl anime they had ever watched. It transcended the genre and brought a deeper perspective to it. I was curious, so I watched.
Understand, this is kind of rare for me. I usually avoid anything in the Magical Girl genre. More often than not, I found the story lines to be predictable, overly emotional, and all the big transformation scenes got on my nerves. There was only so many times you could handle watching Usagi turn into Sailor Moon. I was also usually kind of offended because these stories were aimed at girls, but lacked a lot of substance. Of course, I knew there were exceptions to this. I just never found any to be to my taste.
Part of the problem is that Magical Girl has its roots in the American series Bewitched. If I don't think about it too much, I love the show. However, Bewitched is about a stunningly beautiful immortal with practically infinite magical powers . . . who willingly submits to an ugly, mediocre human male so she can be married and live a "normal life." Which, yeah, that kind of sucks.
In most Magical Girl stories, the heroine and her usually color coded friends have a lot of power that they use to serve and protect the world. More often than not, they also have a fiction of a normal human life, usually as a student in some marginally fetished uniform. Their voices are very high pitched, they tend to be dramatic and emotional, and everything has a slightly dreamy quality to it. There is also quite often some cute animal that will make a really kickass plushy when sold.
Puella Magi Madoka Magica has all of these characteristics. Every single one of them. However, in the same way that a character can be a Mary Sue but still deeply readable and wonderful, a Magical Girl show can have all of the typical and annoying qualities of the genre and still be magnificent. This show is one of those rare exceptions that IS magnificent.
In twelve half hour episodes, the show takes Magical Girl, establishes it, turns it on its head, and begins to ask profound existential questions. It touches on the nature of heroism, of sacrifice, and on the idea of how these relate to the greater good and advancement of the universe. Kyubey, who serves as both plushy and Mephistopheles, at one point tells Madoka, "All the tears shed throughout history have laid the foundation for the life you have now." The central themes of the story are both the need for pain and suffering, for sacrifice, in order for reality to continue . . . and also the pointlessness of it.
What strikes me as most profound about Madoka is how, in many ways, it is an apt metaphor for the lives of most girls. The cycle of potential, temptation, seduction, transformation, duty, destruction, and breakdown that is experienced in the cycle of the Madoka mode of magical girl is very much what many girls go through during their teen years. It is a conversation about how young females often end up destroyed in an attempt to both save and be accepted by a world that is both culpable and insistent on their destruction.
Understand, this is kind of rare for me. I usually avoid anything in the Magical Girl genre. More often than not, I found the story lines to be predictable, overly emotional, and all the big transformation scenes got on my nerves. There was only so many times you could handle watching Usagi turn into Sailor Moon. I was also usually kind of offended because these stories were aimed at girls, but lacked a lot of substance. Of course, I knew there were exceptions to this. I just never found any to be to my taste.
Part of the problem is that Magical Girl has its roots in the American series Bewitched. If I don't think about it too much, I love the show. However, Bewitched is about a stunningly beautiful immortal with practically infinite magical powers . . . who willingly submits to an ugly, mediocre human male so she can be married and live a "normal life." Which, yeah, that kind of sucks.
In most Magical Girl stories, the heroine and her usually color coded friends have a lot of power that they use to serve and protect the world. More often than not, they also have a fiction of a normal human life, usually as a student in some marginally fetished uniform. Their voices are very high pitched, they tend to be dramatic and emotional, and everything has a slightly dreamy quality to it. There is also quite often some cute animal that will make a really kickass plushy when sold.
Puella Magi Madoka Magica has all of these characteristics. Every single one of them. However, in the same way that a character can be a Mary Sue but still deeply readable and wonderful, a Magical Girl show can have all of the typical and annoying qualities of the genre and still be magnificent. This show is one of those rare exceptions that IS magnificent.
In twelve half hour episodes, the show takes Magical Girl, establishes it, turns it on its head, and begins to ask profound existential questions. It touches on the nature of heroism, of sacrifice, and on the idea of how these relate to the greater good and advancement of the universe. Kyubey, who serves as both plushy and Mephistopheles, at one point tells Madoka, "All the tears shed throughout history have laid the foundation for the life you have now." The central themes of the story are both the need for pain and suffering, for sacrifice, in order for reality to continue . . . and also the pointlessness of it.
What strikes me as most profound about Madoka is how, in many ways, it is an apt metaphor for the lives of most girls. The cycle of potential, temptation, seduction, transformation, duty, destruction, and breakdown that is experienced in the cycle of the Madoka mode of magical girl is very much what many girls go through during their teen years. It is a conversation about how young females often end up destroyed in an attempt to both save and be accepted by a world that is both culpable and insistent on their destruction.
No comments:
Post a Comment