Editors’ Picks: Exploring the Imaginary in TV
In their ability not only to conjure visual narratives but also to imagine and effectively reveal new realities, films and TV shows often provide crucial moments of relief and joy. This month, members of the Review’s Editorial Board have compiled a variety of TV series, all of which invite us to delve into worlds that are at once unfamiliar and yet reminiscent of our own.
Nagi-Asu: A Lull in the Sea (2013)
In his poem “The Worm-King’s Lullaby,” Richard Siken wrote, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”
Nagi-Asu: A Lull in the Sea, a 2013 anime produced by P.A. Works, embodies this quote. The series focuses on four friends living in an underwater civilization who must attend a middle school on the surface after theirs closes due to low enrollment. On the surface, they have no choice but to navigate the manufactured separations between sea people and land people. Along with stunning visuals that convincingly show the shimmer of an underwater civilization, the worldbuilding of Nagi-Asu seamlessly integrates epic folklore with the quotidian. To most, sea gods and underwater cities like Atlantis are old wives’ tales; in Nagi-Asu, they are everyday life, and at times, a nuisance.
Entangled with the difficulties of reconciling sea people and land people are attempts to make sense of adult feelings and the striking fragility of adolescence. The young protagonists’ generational burden—to overcome the needless separation between land and sea—is the fulcrum that forces them to delicately balance their vulnerability against their tendencies towards restraint. Despite the high-concept premise of an underwater civilization carrying the emotional burden of breathing folklore, this is the story: that someone has to leave first, and someone will always, always be left behind.
— Anatole Shukla, Features Editor
Manhunt: UNABOMBER (2017)
“There’s a little bit of the unabomber in most of us. We may not share his approach to airing a grievance, but the grievance itself feels familiar.” – Robert Wright
The Unabomber first got his manifesto, which touted the downfall of humanity due to the Industrial Revolution, published when he backed the FBI into a corner, threatening to send more bombs unless the manifesto was published by a major newspaper. When it was finally published, it was a sensation. The bomber, who had warranted one of the biggest FBI task forces, was given a megaphone to a national audience, and the government looked more ridiculous and powerless than ever with their hands tied. The manifesto’s publication, however, would ultimately lead to the Unabomer, a.k.a. Ted Kaczynski’s, arrest.
Manhunt: UNABOMBER weaves the lives of the Unabomber (Paul Bettany) and the FBI profiler Jim Fitzgerald (Sam Worthington), who obsesses and ruins his personal life while investigating the Unabomber. This show gives us insight not only into the thrilling breadcrumb trail that leads to the bomber but also into the Unabomber’s psyche. The Wright quote above, though it may raise eyebrows at first, clarifies itself once we, as viewers, are offered a glimpse into the Unabomber’s life and his manifesto’s key points. Of course I couldn’t forgive the Unabomber no matter the sob story, nor do I expect anyone to, but it was exceptionally powerful to see how personally and vividly his story was told throughout the series. The show isn’t meant to make you suddenly love the Unabomber, although his ideologies of how we have chained ourselves to technology are all thoughts that we’ve had before at some point. Once you hear it, it haunts you. It haunted Fitzgerald and soon you’ll hear the Unabomber too, calling you a blind sheep to society when you stop for a red light at night when there’s no one else there.
— Angie Kwon, Asst. Arts Editor
Violet Evergarden (2018)
Based on Kana Akatsuki’s light novel series, Violet Evergarden follows the story of an orphaned former child soldier as she settles back into society following an intense war. Previously exploited as a merciless killing machine, Violet Evergarden struggles to find her place after losing her commanding officer and caretaker Major Gilbert Bougainvillea, whom she desperately tries and fails to save in a final deadly battle. Her arms, which she loses in battle, are replaced with metallic prosthetics. Traumatized and confused, and struggling to decipher Gilbert’s final words to her, “I love you,” she decides to work at the CH Postal Company as an Auto-Memory Doll, a ghostwriter for people in an age where the majority of people can’t write or need help to convey their emotions in letters. This reveals deficiencies in her own capabilities in identifying and expressing human emotions. But while traveling around the country and assisting others to convey their sentiments, Violet gradually connects with others and more fully understands the scope of human emotions, including that of her own.
Set in an alternate world akin to that of 20th century Europe, Violet Evergarden nevertheless grounds itself in the painful gravity of war, stunningly animated by Kyoto Animation and aided by a moving orchestral soundtrack. Violet’s newfound empathy, however, allows her to confront the weight of each life she took throughout the war—each one a letter that won’t reach home, and a person out there left mourning forever. As she parses through her post-traumatic stress and grows into her new life as an Auto Memory Doll, Violet develops meaningful friendships, both with her colleagues and clients at the CH Postal Company, that allow her to process her grief as well as show her what it means to reveal one’s feelings through letter-writing, an intimate and arguably lost form of communication. All in all, Violet Evergarden simultaneously paints a stark and brutal picture of war as well as a poignant, hopeful tale of healing, redemption, and the courage to live freely.
— Atziri Marquez, Arts Editor
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003)
While the habit of binge watching one show to the next was worsened by 2020—and didn’t seem to get any better by December 31st—it seems that, though the options feel limitless, we always find ourselves asking for others’ suggestions. Currently, I am watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, recommended by a friend, a show about a 90s Valley Girl turned legendary chosen one. The show’s aesthetics scream early 2000s, with the music, the fashion, and sometimes the jokes. Before watching, I had no idea just how influential this teen drama has been on television and fantasy film since its creation. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was one of the first serialized television shows which had both an overarching seasonal arc and plotline, along with smaller plots for individual episodes. This style of TV has since turned commonplace. While Buffy fights demons and vampires every episode, many of her villains and triumphs clearly carry metaphors for deeper meanings—abusive relationships, addiction, female friendship—all while her town is quite literally on top of the gates of Hell, the opening being in the high school. The show provides light, fun entertainment while simultaneously tackling some pretty heavy subject matters. Buffy continues to have quite the cult following, and not only influences popular culture still to this day, but was successful with various spin off series as well.
When I reached about season 3 of the show, however, recent headlines began to pop up about the show’s creator, Joss Whedon. Within the last couple of months, various actresses who starred on the show came forward with the disappointing news that Whedon perpetrated an unhealthy environment on set and made them uncomfortable. Other actresses and actors spoke out in support, showing not only the sad truth of the production but the lasting friendships it created as well. This situation also brings to light the age old dilemma of how to appreciate an art without admiring the artist, and if there is such a way to appropriately do so, if at all.
— Annie Wixted, Contributing Editor