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Same series Grisaia: Phantom Trigger Vol. Shares characters Idol Mahou Shoujo Chiruchiru ☆ Michiru Prequel Grisaia no Meikyuu -Le Labyrinthe de. Pescaderias Viral & Taikutsu Translations Outsiders can only laugh at them, not with them.Grisaia no Rakuen -Le Eden de la Grisaia-įrontwing & Sekai Project & Denpasoft & Prototype & The Math God By making fun of themselves, fans establish themselves as an in-group. Self-deprecating humour can also be indulgent and self-serving, though. In the fandom context, it can come across as a self-defense mechanism, a way of deflecting outside criticism while carving out a distinct identity for oneself. It’s good to have a sense of perspective and the ability to laugh at yourself. There’s really nothing inherently wrong with it. In general, people use self-deprecating humour to create an aura of approachability. You can see this in words like “waifu” or the common fandom joke: “Your favorite anime is shit!” It certainly makes sense that fans of anime would engage in self-deprecating humour themselves. Still, I did get to thinking about how “anime humour” and “fandom humour” overlap. If you’ve ever watched a Japanese variety show, you’ll understand that the tendency towards exaggeration and silly jokes is hardly confined to anime. And, of course, the gender bias in slapstick is a common media trope in general. I’m not going to pretend that anything about “anime humour” is unique.
He may be a brainless pervert, a loser geek, clueless about girls (and in many cases, all of the above), and he will often be teased by the female characters, sometimes even physically abused in a slapstick manner. This is especially noticeable whenever a joke centers around a male character. Whenever I think about anime humour, the first thing that occurs to me is that it is very often self-deprecating. How does pop culture (in this case, anime) reinterpret religious motifs? To what end?īefore I can discuss those questions in detail, we need to take a not-so-brief detour and talk about religion itself. Once again, I’ll point you to the good folks at Beneath the Tangles for various discussions and links. What I want to talk about in this post is the act of pastiche. Other bloggers have dissected a great deal about Noragami through a Christian lens.
That’s why the world it depicts comes across as both familiar and strange, especially to Western eyes. Once you dig past all the flashy battles and shonen shenanigans, Noragami boils down to a rather universal dilemma: In this (post)modern world, how do we humans find fulfillment? How do we tell right from wrong? Like Haibane Renmei, which I discussed not too long ago, Noragami is about spirituality, but it isn’t necessarily about religion in the organised sense. The protagonist is a stray god (or Kami) who strives not to be forgotten by humans, and the heroine is an ordinary high school girl who gradually comes to appreciate the Kami. You can see this reflected in the character designs, music and aesthetics, but the overall plot invokes this theme as well. Okay, so as I mentioned in my last post, I recently watched Noragami. Like many other anime series aimed at teenagers, Noragami is an urban fantasy, one that imbues old myths and traditions (in this case, Shinto gods) with a sense of hipness and adventure.