Manga Review: Before You Go Extinct

An incisive, heartfelt plea for the worth of useless actions

It's usually bad manners to make the review about the reviewer, but this time I'll ask for your indulgence, because this book has touched me on a very personal level. Because my parents had no imagination, they made me study for a business degree. Out of the options they could afford, that one sounded to me like the most dreadful. I melted in hopelessness every time I envisioned what kind of life I would have with that degree, burning my few decades of fresh vigor on this Earth for the Dark Art of transmuting money into more money. I would have given an arm and a leg to study history. Or cinema. Or psychology. Or archaeology. Gosh, how I dreamed of archaeology. But my parents' choice was incontestable, supported by their totally scientific method of reading the classified ads in the newspaper and taking note of which jobs were the most demanded. Their guiding principle, for their lives as well as mine, paid no heed to what was interesting to do, but to what stove off destitution. With a business degree, they promised, the rest of my life would be guaranteed. I tried many times to make them see that that wouldn't be a life worth living, but they didn't even have that concept. So I never let them know, because they didn't deserve to know, how much of my twenties was spent wanting to die.

All those ideas, about the seductiveness of the death drive, about the socially transmitted imperative to not do anything unproductive, about the anxiety that comes with the awareness of our finitude, about the fascinating nature of wasted time, about the tragedy of uncritically accepting a set lifepath, about our need to express a personal meaning in ways that reach beyond practicality, about the unacknowledged extortion that biological urges commit against our freedom, about the emptiness of mere survival, about time's perverse joke at our expense came cascading over me while reading Takashi Ushiroyato's collected manga Before You Go Extinct.

The plot is an extended philosophical dialogue held across six reincarnations between a soul that has bought into the game of animalistic survival, and thus eschews what seems useless, and a soul that safeguards its little private dignity by perfecting some or other pastime as a vehement yet futile protest against a universe that isn't listening. The genius element in this story is that it's told with talking animals. For us humans, the truism that we must create our own meaning has through repetition lost some of its impact. But we still think of animals as beings that exist primarily to obtain food and reproduce; to use their voices lends more impact to the message that we shouldn't feel compelled to abide by the ancestral template that prescribes birth-growth-breeding-death.

For added rhetorical effect, the animals we follow in this story belong to endangered species. These characters think of mortality in terms that exceed the dimension of the personal: every Hawaiian crow, every Japanese otter, every New Zealand kakapo that dies is a cosmic loss. The obligation to obtain food and reproduce nags at them like a ticking bomb, but the plot leads them, in each of those lives, to notice that they don't have to comply with that obligation. There's more to being alive than staying that way. Being a free person implies that you aren't required to find food and reproduce, even if your species depends on it.

We're introduced to a cute, murderous penguin who has figured out that penguins are disappearing, so he decides he may as well speed up the process. The point of this chapter isn't how a penguin manages to acquire dynamite and machine guns; it's why he doesn't kill his roommate, whose way of protesting against the future is to take care of a small rock (which is something real penguins sometimes do when they can't have an egg). In their next life, they're crows debating what's the point of honoring the dead if neither the dead nor the living get any benefit from it (spoiler: benefit is not the point). In their next life, they're otters captured by a circus who rebel against its system that assures their sustenance in exchange for obedience. In their next life, they're another species of otter, torn between fun and responsibility. In their next life, they're kakapos with a passion for music, learning that their song isn't wasted just because it doesn't attract a mate. And in their next life, they're penguins again, this time literally the last two, a parent and an adopted chick, and in their conversations they admit that parenthood isn't inherently heroic. Throughout that journey of spiritual discovery, they're accompanied by their favorite rock, a clear symbol of the useless things that nonetheless we defiantly choose to value.

The implied punch of this story, one comes to realize, is that it was written by a Japanese creator. Before You Go Extinct isn't just a rebuke of longtermism and its mandate to sacrifice the actual for the potential, but more specifically a response to the cultural panic over the demographic shift that is going on in Japan. Governments are treating depopulation as an existential threat that must be countered, but this book makes the case that it's fine if that happens. There's no law of the universe that says your nation has to exist. But rather than a flat "don't have kids," the book proposes that having kids (or not) is a choice that only has meaning if you make if for your own reasons, and you should be honest with yourself about having those reasons instead of pretending it's the natural or patriotic thing to do. To put it in Kantian terms, it's evil to make children exist if they're instruments of someone else's goals, like in this case state goals. And on a more individual level, it's evil to willingly turn yourself into an instrument of a system.

It's a curious feeling to read Before You Go Extinct and notice the usual devices of humorous manga in the middle of hard conversations about what's the point of living (spoiler: having a point is not the point). All the animals are adorable to look at, even while they're enduring full-body burns or driving an armored tank or rehearsing their own funeral or remembering a dead friend's love for ball juggling. That aesthetic choice is a statement by itself: the most hurtful experiences don't negate the possibility of finding beauty. Note that I didn't say finding purpose, or even finding meaning. Those are nice to have. But if you're serious about refusing to be an instrument, finding some beauty, gloriously useless beauty, shall be enough.

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Reference: Ushiroyato, Takashi (author), Abiko, Kanato (illustrator), Tejima, Yuki (translator), Grandt, Eve (letterer). Before You Go Extinct [Kodansha, 2025].

Book Review: A Magical Girl Retires by Park Seolyeon (translated by Anton Hur)

Magical girl manga meets millennial angst

CW: discussion of character experiencing suicidal thoughts.

I can't decide if this book is very deep or just very odd. It's quite possibly both.

A Magical Girl Retires follows an unnamed young Korean girl struggling with debt and a difficult job market, unable to live up to the promise she showed in her grandfather's jewellery shop, never having become the watch designer she dreamed she would be. At the start of the story, this drives her to a bridge in the night, contemplating jumping into the water below and hoping no one notices or is inconvenienced by her. Just as she finds herself unable to do it, a stranger appears to tell her that she is destined for greatness, not this, and to come away immediately. She is thus drawn into the world of magical girls, real-life magic-wielders like the figures from manga, who use their skills to make the world a better place.

Which sounds... well, there are some obvious places that story can go, and this isn't quite any of them, though it does follow some of their themes some of the time. But the narrative never quite sticks to any of the expected paths, winding in between them but never fully committing, and what you get at the end is instead a strange, dreamy and meandering study of a character reassessing her place in the world and her relationship to her self-image, to her abilities, and to what power means. The depth of it all sort of sneaks up on you on the way, presenting itself gently, subtly.

And that approach bears out in other aspects too—especially the worldbuilding, such as it is. It's a story that very much assumes you know what magical girls in manga are, how they transform, and approximately what they do, because it has little interest in spelling out the basics for you. If you've ever watched a few episodes of Sailor Moon, that's more than enough, but in the actual text of the book there's very limited interest in drawing that picture for you then and there. The focus instead is far more on the mundane sides of the job —because it is, in this story, very much a job— from conferences and job fairs to unions and international co-operation and jurisdictions. Without going full ham with it, Park does a lot of work to undermine the sparkle of it all, tying it back to the most uninteresting basics of life, money, food, housing, the day-to-day grind and what do you actually do. This becomes especially true through the protagonist's perspective, as her precarity, her knowledge of how precipitous her own situation is, casts a shadow of realism over everything she encounters. Her fridge —the source of a good deal of her debt at the start of the story— recurs at several points as a touchstone for these themes, constantly bringing the reader back to the realities of the story.

And in this lies its strength: it is, by and large, a story about all that angst, that daily life stuff, with the magic... not exactly sprinkled on top, because it's fundamental to how the story is being told, but ultimately in service to the angst rather than the other way around. It's not about magical girls, not really; they're just the way Park is making the key points.

And those key points live or die on how relatable —distressing to use this particular word, but needs must— you find the unnamed protagonist. If you've ever been stuck at a pointless, rubbish job with a ridiculous boss because you need the pittance it pays, if you've ever been stuck at a point where the basics you assumed everyone have start to seem more luxurious than you'd ever have expected —like a fridge, for example— then her motivations and her journey are incredibly effective. It's a story calling out to lost twenty-somethings who feel adrift in the world, no longer steered by the guidance provided in childhood, not yet acquainted with the more self-assured situation of the thirties and beyond.

And by using a framework intrinsically tied to childhood, as magical girl stories so often are, it really dials up the pathos, even as it twists those girls into something more mundane and adult. Only magic can bring you unionisation, a good credit score, and a well-paying job with long term prospects, it seems to say.

This is before we even get into the climate crisis part of the narrative, which is... well, it's blunt, let's say that. The magical girls are all well aware that the planet is doomed at its current rate, and are doing everything they can to fix it. As part of this, they know they need the magical girl with the power to control time, as only she can prevent the inevitable planetary apocalypse that's coming to us all.

Wow, that sounds miserable when I type it out. And I won't lie; it is, by turns, quite a depressing book. But those other turns more than make up for it.

Because the other main thread running through it is that of relationships, the need for people in one's life, and what they can bring, even to someone right down in the pits of it all. There are two that figure most strongly: that of the protagonist with her deceased grandfather, and his memory, and with the magical girl who finds her on the bridge, Ah Roa. Ah Roa has the gift of prophecy, and is our protagonist's cheerful, knowledgeable guide into the world of magical-girling. But she is also, instantly but quite understandably, very fond of her too. And throughout the story, that fondness, alongside the often-prompted memories of a loving, nurturing and proud grandfather, serve as a balm to all the grimness, and slowly, very slowly, pull our main character out of her hole and back into the world again.

Against the background of climate change and an unexpected, rather more immediate, magical threat to all of humanity, that's what this story is about: surviving precarity day by day, the solace we take in those around us, and one person steadily pulling herself out of a hole and remembering to dream of the things she can do with her tomorrows. Despite the glittery transformations and mirrors that see the future, it is a story about a little life, finding little steps into progress, in ways many of us will find something comforting, familiar or recognisable. It uses the trappings of childhood magic to highlight some very grown-up problems, and the delicacy of that contrast is beautifully handled throughout, ending up packing far bigger a punch than its short size might suggest.

Highlights: meaningful character relationships; intensely likeable main character; lovely art pages

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

Reference: Park Seolyeon. A Magical Girl Retires [HarperVia, 2024].

POSTED BY: Roseanna Pendlebury, the humble servant of a very loud cat. @chloroformtea.bsky.social

Review: Jujutsu Kaisen - Season Two

A nihilistic departure from the edgy optimism of the first season.

When Jujutsu Kaisen arrived in the anime world, it became an instant hit. Fans were drawn to show’s edgy, elevated execution of the traditional shonen elements. Shonen anime often contain a central protagonist who is optimistic and heroic (Naruto Shippuden) or cynical and heroic (Bleach), and who has an interesting ensemble cast of scene-stealing characters, along with layers of complicated villains, intense battles, devasting family secrets, and extensive and powerful character arcs. Jujutsu Kaisen Season One gave viewers many of the things they loved about Naruto, but delivered it in a sleeker, edgier story with incredible art design and fantastic music. But Season Two of Jujutsu Kaisen makes a significant shift in both tone and storytelling style.

Season One Recap – Pink-haired Yuji Itadori is a strong, athletic high schooler being raised by his dying grandfather. After school, he attends his friends’ “occult club” meeting where they accidentally unleash a violent monster who begins to kill his classmates. To save them he consumes a dangerous artifact, the mummified finger of Sakuna, an evil supernatural being. As a result, Yuji is possessed by the villain Sakuna but can also harness his power. To everyone’s surprise, Yuji is strong enough to bring the violent Sakuna’s psyche under control. He is able to save his classmates and work alongside his new ally, Megumi (a sorcerer / monster-slayer) to defeat the attacking cursed creature. “Curses” are murderous monsters created by the negative emotions of humans. It’s a fascinating commentary on human thoughts.

Unfortunately, like Naruto in Naruto and Naruto Shippuden, Yuji now has a violent demon sharing space in his mind and his body. This means he is going to be executed…eventually. In the meantime, Yuji is sent to Jujutsu High School to learn how to be a sorcerer (curse-slayer) and save the world along with his new first-year classmates: fierce, outspoken Nobara and moody, deadly Megumi, all under the guidance of Satoru Gojo, their blue-eyed, blindfolded, irreverent teacher and mentor. In the course of Season One, Yuji builds bonds with his teammates and mentors, connects with his other classmates, and encounters life-changing conflicts while he struggles to maintain control of the monster inside him. Despite the grim premise, Season One maintained an unexpected sense of humor—simultaneously edgy, likeable, violent, and clever, with great character development.

Season Two is such a significant shift in the tone and storytelling style that it almost seems like we are watching a different show. The season begins with a multi-episode prequel arc about Yuji’s all-powerful young teacher, Satoru Gojo, and his deteriorating best-friendship with soon-to-be villain, Suguru Geto. However, the friendship between the two men is mostly just told to us and Geto’s sudden pivot from “save all humans” to “kill all humans” is so abrupt that it requires more of a willing suspension of disbelief than the fantastical magic systems that define the show.

The best part of the extended prequel episodes is the story of Megumi as a young child, Megumi’s violent, cynical father Toji, and how the father and son intersect with Gojo in a life-changing way. After an extended set up of Geto as a remorseless, smirking villain we get a time-skip to the present where we finally reconnect with the Season One trio of Yuji and his friends Megumi and Nobara. However, we only get a brief moment with them including a confusing introduction of an old classmate of Yuji who then disappears entirely from the story. In a few scenes, we move into the bulk of Season Two, a nihilistic, violent series of multi-episode long fight scenes, minimally explained villainy, and such extreme violence that I felt like I was watching Attack on Titan. Season One and Season Two both have lots of violence, but Season Two lacks the character-driven plotting and humor that Season One so effectively wove into the main horror elements.

In Season 2, Gojo’s frenemy, Geto’s, body is now possessed by another villain but everyone refers to him as Geto for convenience. On Halloween night, Pseudo-Geto and his minions trap thousands of festively costumed humans at the Shibuya Train Station in order to lure and trap Gojo. Gojo is believed to be the only one powerful enough to stop them so they use the trapped humans as bait and hostages to capture him so they can destroy the world without Gojo interfering. The plan results in a lot of carnage which is made more surreal by the brightly colored and often humorous costumes the unsuspecting party-goers are wearing. This attention to visual detail is one of the many ways in which the art design of Season Two is outstanding and riveting. From the sweeping views of the nighttime cityscapes to a carefully animated shot of the wide, lengthy almost golden staircase of the Shibuya train station, Season Two is a feast of thoughtful and immersive animation.

The main problem of Season Two is the plotting. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara are no longer fighting as teammates but are separated from each other. Additionally, there are so many minor characters thrown into the narrative that viewers might repeatedly find themselves googling unfamiliar names. With so many key characters available, it’s confusing that minor players got so much screen time. Nobara, who is such a well-written, strong female character, is largely removed from the main story except for a few ill-fated fight scenes.

But, despite the gory, nihilistic tone of the second season, there are several elements and scenes that maintain the show’s intense appeal and explain its return as the 2024 winner of Anime of the Year.

In one story arc, the young sorcerer, Ui Ui, has an intense worship-like love for his super strong, monster-fighting older sister, Mei Mei. Mei Mei’s tone is always seductively calm regardless of the creatures coming at her or the creepy adoration of her little brother. In the midst of a fight, Mei Mei, needing a human sacrifice to succeed against her opponent, turns to her young brother and serenely asks, “Ui Ui, will you die for me?”

In another fight scene, a curse technique resurrects Toji, Megumi’s long dead father, and the two enter into a protracted battle unaware of the other’s identity. In another excellent scene, an injured, bloodied Nanami (Yuji’s business-like mentor) simultaneously walks through the haunting, dark subway station while also walking an uncomfortably bright beach, uninjured, wearing his business suit which is too warm for him. Both moments are overlaid on each other. After so many intense visuals, fight scenes, and overt horror, the simplicity of the overlaid moment is tragic and beautiful.

After protagonist Yuji sustains a near-fatal injury, the murderous monster Sakuna escapes Yuji’s control and lays waste to the Shibuya station using Yuji’s body as executioner. The close murders are shocking and terrifying and the final cataclysmic devastation is extremely powerful. At the same time, Megumi decides to sacrifice his life to create an avatar powerful enough to defeat the rampaging Sakuna. We see the epic clash between Megumi’s monster and the unleashed Sakuna. The lengthy battle is filled with astonishing visuals of the fighting and of the resulting destruction. Megumi’s strength, even though he’s unconscious, fuels Sakuna’s long-running obsession with him.

At the end of the battle with Sakuna, the art design of the devastation is terrifying in its controlled boundaries. Sakuna’s decision to inflict death and destruction go to an exact point, leaving a clear line of delineation between the survivors and the decimated. It’s a creepy way to show that everyone’s fate (of survival or death) is entirely in Sakuna’s hands. When Sakuna releases back to Yuji, the resulting emotional response is heartrending for Yuji as the panned out destruction blows him away. The music in this scene is fantastic. The haunting, driving beats of the show’s opening song circle back to the viewers as a devastated Yuji pleads for his own death.

Later, after Yuji regains control of his body, he has a final showdown between the long-time villain Mahito. During a climactic scene, the subway station transforms into a surreal winter-scape of desolate winter trees, deep white snow, and hunting wolves.

Overall, Jujutsu Kaisen’s powerful use of visual storytelling through its incredible art design make Season Two terrifyingly appealing, but the nihilistic change in both tone and plot may leave some viewers emotionally exhausted.

--

The Math

Highlights:

· A nihilistic departure from Season One
· Incredible art design
· Limited character development in favor of action

Nerd Coefficient: 7 

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Thursday Morning Superhero: New Year's Resolutions

 I hope I am not stepping on any Nerds of a Feather toes by posting my own resolutions, but they are multi-faceted and since I only post once a month these days this felt right.  2021 was an interesting year that marked what felt like the end of the pandemic, only to see it extend into 2022.  I watched a lot of anime with my son in 2021 and that proved to be quite the blessing.  I expanded my comic book reading into additional indie titles and read a lot more manga.  My board game playing was sadly down, but I have plans for 2022.

Resolution #1 - My first resolution is to expand my manga reading even further. I am currently working my way through Attack on Titan, but want to visit Black Butler and Prince of Tennis at a minimum.  I recently subscribed to Crunchy Roll and manga is part of that service so I am hopeful I will find some titles worth exploring.

Resolution #2 - I would like to re-establish a regular gaming group.  The pandemic made this difficult, but I was able to play Detective from Portal Games remotely and want to make a solid commitment to game with a consistent group on a monthly basis at a minimum.  My family is moving from Texas to Illinois and I think we have enough friends that this should not be a problem. This will allow me to reduce my pile of shame and play some of the games I love more.

Resolution #3 - It has been a long time since I have read some of my favorite Captain America arcs and this might call for 2022 to be the year of Ed Brubaker.  This would account for me reading his masterful work on Captain America, and revisit some of his earlier works. Scene of the Crime is about a slacker detective and I have sadly never read his work on Batman.  I should cap off the year reading his collaboration with the legendary Darwyn Cooke on Catwoman.

Resolution #4 - This is going to be my most difficult resolution, but I would like to start to cull the amount of collectibles I have.  This process has started in preparing to move, but I want to focus on the items that I feel I need to have.  I recently sold some of my Funko Pops in order to fund a Simpsons Arcade1up cabinet, and I feel I can purge more and become more active on eBay.

I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year and I remain optimistic about what it has in store.  While I wanted to put a return to in person conventions, I am not sure I am at the comfort level for that type of engagement currently.  

POSTED BY MIKE N. aka Victor Domashev -- comic guy, proudly raising nerdy kids, and Nerds of a Feather contributor since 2012.

Stranger Things: A New Dramatic Animal?

Within two days of Stranger Things appearing on Netflix, I had three separate friends reach out to tell me they'd binge-watched it and I had to see it. That I would love it.

So I did. And I did. But...

I want to be very clear at the outset and say this isn't a review. I'm not going to say bad things about Stranger Things, and I'm going to try to avoid spoilers. What I'm really interested in is more of a formal analysis.

One of the biggest appeals of Stranger Things is its retro-80s vibe. I mean, just look at this poster! It's amazing. 

And that font, which looked out at me from the cover of so many Stephen King paperbacks as a kid gives me all kinds of warm fuzzies. By the end of the first episode, I was hooked. But I turned to my wife and said, "If Hopper winds up in the Black Lodge at the end of this thing, I'm going to be pissed."

See, Stranger Things doesn't just have a retro poster and a retro vibe, it actually seems to be made up of Lego bricks taken from 80s and early-90s touchstones. It's really not enough to say that it's "inspired" by E.T., Twin Peaks, Akira, The X-Files, and the music of John Carpenter. It appears to actually be constructed of those things. There are moments lifted directly from E.T., dynamics transposed whole cloth from Twin Peaks, a key character and plotline from Akira, and at one point there was a scene so reminiscent of Stephen King's It that I was able to tell my wife what was going to happen before it played out onscreen. 

I love all of those movies and stories. Seeing them all in one place was pretty cool. But I felt an odd pull I've never experienced before — part of me felt that warm, familiar nerd glow of spotting references from beloved hallmarks I grew up with, but I felt a difference between spotting the posters for Evil Dead and The Thing on the walls in characters' rooms, and saying "oh, this scene is from..."

Now here, to me, is the really interesting thing: this is a Netflix show, and with the exception of Akira, every other work I've mentioned here has been available for streaming on Netflix. Netflix was very clear when it launched House of Cards, its first original, scripted show, that its programming decisions were based on user viewing patterns. So it's probably safe to assume that people are watching the hell out of E.T., The X-Files, and Twin Peaks on Netflix. And maybe Netflix's development team said, "Can we get a show that's just all of those things, but a mini-series?"

This could be a one-off thing, or it could be a harbinger of a new phenomenon that is a direct result of the time we're living in. With viewership metrics available on a level like nothing we've ever seen before,  the slow demise of the traditional network television model, and a trend toward limited series, rather than 22-episode-per-season non-serialized dramas or comedies, there is a very real possibility that Stranger Things is something like a new narrative form. The G referred to it in conversation as a bricolage, which may be correct. Or a four-dimensional version of Picasso's early experiments with collage. 

I suppose part of me is fighting the urge to be dismissive about a work that in some ways lacks originality, but the fact that I really enjoyed it is telling. I think it will be interesting to see where this goes. I argued in 2013 that Breaking Bad was the signature show of our time not just because of its content and narrative qualities, but because of the way it used streaming services and social media to expand its audience and change viewing patterns. Maybe something similar is happening right now.

Maybe we'll have a Western to look forward to where a Civil War veteran with deep hatred of the Comanche (The Searchers) gets wind of a coming confrontation, and when he can't get anyone in town to stand with him (High Noon), he must confront his racism out of desperation and recruit a team of seven Comanche braves to help him defend the town (Seven Samurai/The Magnificent Seven). Who knows? 

Also, I'm available for meetings, if anybody wants to talk about setting up that project...

Posted by Vance K - co-editor and cult film reviewer at nerds of a feather since 2012. Netflix subscriber since 2004.

Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation Tournament (Final Four)

By virtue of what I will assume was a generational divide, Jack Nicholson's Joker dropped Heath Ledger's Joker into a vat of Smilex to make it into the Final Four, and NoaF staff-favorite Dredd got a faceful of ugly from Hellboy and has gone to the great ink and pencil cubicle in the sky. No surprise that Captain America: The Winter Soldier is still riding high, nor that the atomic-powered Akira has made it to the big stadium.

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In the tournament to establish the Best Comic Book Movie Ever, I give you your Final Four.

Previous rounds here, here, here, and here.

Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation Tournament (Round 3)

And then there were eight. Or, seven really, since there are two Batmen (Batmans?) at this table.

I have to admit personally I'm very happy Hellboy has made it this far and fist-smashed Kick-Ass into the pavement. And handily. But we had some nailbiters, just like the last round. Nausicaa only just squeaked Ghost in the Shell, and Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy apparently had a dance-off, which left Iron Man et al. going for shawarma and Star Lord et al. advancing to the next round. With the exception of the Indie/Imprint Region, everything else has gone all-chalk so far.

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Next stop, the Final Four. We know Batman's going to be giving a Japanese cartoon character the stare-down, but the other half of the bracket is murkier. Will NoaF favorite Dredd overcome poor viewership and overcome a hellspawn only to get a faceful of vibranium? Time -- and your votes -- will tell.

Previous rounds here, here, and here.

Marvel Region

Batman (DC) Region

Indie/Imprint Region

International Region

Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation Tournament (Round 2)

My fellow nerds, in this time of contention and uncertainty, I want to assure you that YOUR VOTE MATTERS!

While there weren't a ton of surprises in Round 1 — a couple of 5-seeds over four-seeds, but no major upsets, despite Scott Pilgrim's best efforts — I can tell you that three votes prevented an All-Batman DC round. V for Vendetta defeated Batman Begins by two votes, and the Man of Steel held off the Dark Knight by only a single vote in the battle of franchise sequels (Batman Returns vs. Superman II).

While the campaigns go back to their war rooms for new talking points or the teams go back to their benches so the coach can draw up a new play, depending on which direction you want to take this metaphor in an election year, Round 2 begins.

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Staff-favorite Dredd barely held off the spirit of Brandon Lee to make it to this round. Can it power through? Which funny Marvel movie is the better-suited to square off against either Cap or a team of mutants? Kick-Ass looks vulnerable. Can Red drop the fist on it? And our International Region is now fully subtitled, but not fully animated. Can the one standing live-action movie make it to the next round? These questions and more...or, actually, really just these questions...will be answered next Monday.

Previous rounds here and here.

Marvel Region

DC Region

Indie/Imprint Region

International Region

Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation Tournament (Round 1)

The field is set, thanks to everyone who participated in the play-in round voting.

Are there any upsets waiting to happen? How many Batmen are too many Batmen? Have any of the box office bombs made enough fans since to bump a bigger hit?

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To recap: We invited all 13 of our writers to nominate their favorite big-screen comics adaptations in the Marvel, DC, Indie or Imprint, and International Regions. For the International Region, our requirement was that the source material originate outside of the U.S., even if the adaptation did not. From there, based on a point system built on the number of mentions for each movie and literally hundreds of emails between the team, we narrowed down the field. In the end, we got the field set and seeded based on everybody's input, and the public voting in the play-in round set the final spot in each Region.

Vote as many times as you like, and spread the word. Argue with everyone! We will post the final results of Round 1 and open Round 2 for voting next Monday.

Marvel Region

DC Region

Indie/Imprint Region

International Region

Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation Tournament (Play-In Round)

It's March Madness time again!

In previous years, through the votes of our readers we have crowned The Greatest Sci-Fi TV Show of All Time and The Greatest Sci-Fi Movie of All Time. This year, the tournament is for the Best Cinematic Comic Adaptation, and we've changed the way we do things to make this even more democratic.

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First, the selection process: We invited all 13 of our writers to nominate their favorite big-screen comics adaptations in the Marvel, DC, Indie or Imprint, and International Regions. For the International Region, our requirement was that the source material originate outside of the U.S., even if the adaptation did not. From there, based on a point system built on the number of mentions for each movie and literally hundreds of emails between the team, we narrowed down the field. I can't say there was blood, but there were arguments. In the end, we got the field set and seeded based on everybody's input.

But that wasn't enough! Oh no. This year, we've added a play-in round for the #8 seed in each Region. So readers get to vote on what the last movie included in each Region will be (and that way you guys can settle some of the toughest fights we had). The play-in fields are different sizes, and that reflects the various levels of competition and differing opinions in each of those Regions.

The play-in round is brief, so get to voting! It will be open for 48 hours, and then the final field will be set and voting on Round 1 will begin. Off we go!

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CYBERPUNK REVISITED: Akira Vol. 1 by Katsuhiro Otomo - Thursday Morning Superhero Edition

Welcome to a special Cyberpunk Revisited edition of Thursday Morning Superhero!

Dossier: Akira vol. 1 by Katsuhiro Otomo (1982).

File Type: Manga.

File Under: Cyberpunk. 

Executive Summary: In 1992 a new type of bomb destroyed Tokyo in World War III.  At the conclusion of the war, the world began to rebuild. Tetsuo and Kaneda are two unruly teenagers who are involved in a motorcycle crash with a mysterious child.  A military helicopter descends as the child appears to vanish into thin air.  Tetsuo is placed on the helicopter and carried away from the scene.  We learn that the military has been conducting experiments on human subjects with fascinating results. Some of the children have exhibited superhuman capabilities, but are unstable and one such experiment, Akira, resulted in the destruction of Tokyo. Kaneda, in an attempt to track down the child, gets mixed in with a group of rebels who seek to stop the human experimentation and military state.  When Tetsuo returns, he suffers from psychic headaches and goes on a rampage through the city and leaving behind a wealth of bodies and destruction. The first volume, of six, ends with Tetsuo returning with the General to the military facility.  He is dependent on the medication they provide and intrigued by his potential of being as powerful as Akira.

High-Tech: Kaneda's motorcycle.  Need I say more? It is one of the most iconic vehicles in pop culture for a reason.

  

The rest of the technology lies in the juxtaposition to what the military has compared to that of the citizens.  The medical experiments are conducted with cutting edge equipment, hover bikes patrol the cities, and a massive cryogenic chamber rests beneath the stadium grounds.

Low-Life: Clearly the rebuilding process has been difficult on the citizens and Neo Tokyo-City finds itself overrun with deviants.  Bike gangs rule the streets and there is much political unrest.

 

Dark Times: In their quest to create humans with weaponized psychic abilities, Akira was born and destroyed Tokyo.  Frozen in a cryogenic chamber beneath the Olympic Stadium, it is only a matter of time before he is awakened.  Despite the destruction and harm brought about due to these experiments, the military moves forward with its agenda.  

Legacy: The impact that Akira had on our pop culture landscape is massive.  While the manga is a critical success, it didn't have mainstream success until the movie hit the scene. The anime that was inspired by this series is one of the first to cross the ocean and have a meaningful impact on our culture.  It is the definitive anime with good reason.  While it does not go into the political strife and intricacies as in depth as the manga, it is true to the source material and helped put it in the hands of fans all over the globe.

 

In Retrospect: 

For its time: 5/5

Viewed today: 4/5

Cybercoefficient: 9/10

If you were curious how Akira and The Simpsons would mash-up check out Bartkira.