Welcome to the N-H-K!

I first read about Welcome to the N-H-K! last semester, as part of my Modern Japanese History class. The semi-autobiographical novel written by Tatsuhiko Takimoto became something of a phenomenon upon its publication in 2002, as an expose of sorts on the life of a hikikomori individual. The manga and anime became successful, if further fictionalized (particularly with the anime) versions of the story. Although the concept of "shut-ins" exist in the west, often such individuals' issues are associated with agoraphobia; regardless, the concept of hikikomori is certainly not alien to a western audience, but remains fairly specific to Japan.

Herein lies one of three major issues with the series: if one is looking for a quick, easy crash course in some prevalent social issues or tensions in modern Japan, this show fits the bill. But in doing so, it loses some of its focus: although otaku (intense fandom of manga and anime) and lolicon (pornographic or pseudo-pornographic depictions of young girls, always animated so not literally child pornography) cultures are certainly relevant and necessary parts of this story, the show extends itself into commenting on insular forum groups, suicide pacts, pharmaceutical dependency, cults, pyramid marketing schemes and online gaming. The show itself features no plot in a conventional sense, so it is unfortunately guided by a proverbial game of social-problem hopscotch, jumping on a series of hot-button issues. If one wonders why, if Neon Genesis Evangelion was really about depression, that it was couched in a complex sci-fi scenario, this show is a good answer. Some sort of forward momentum is needed in any series.

The second major issue is fairly simple: this series doesn't need to be 24 episodes long. A 13 episode formula would work perfectly for this kind of story, in which character development is the sole driving force of the episodes. The show's length leads to the aforementioned absurdities. How and why a reclusive individual such as Sato could possibly be caught up in all these situations and subcultures is apparently no object for the writers, who simply shove him into situations at a moment's notice. Finally, as a less crucial issue, for a series which is largely unafraid of lascivious content and exploring the inherent creepiness of sexual fantasies as conceived of by people who have a limited idea of how sex works, the show inexplicably removes all traces of drug use, which is a major element in the novel. However, Takimoto himself downplayed this element in the manga (which he wrote as well), but whether the reasons were purely artistic or to make the content more palatable is unclear.

It bears mentioning that Welcome to the N-H-K! is an undeniably well-intentioned show. It strives to humanize desperate, pitiful, creepy and unscrupulous people, putting the audience in their shoes while making it quite clear that such behavior does not come recommended. It is thorough and ruthless in exploring the sexism plaguing the otaku culture and Japanese culture on the whole, serving as a deconstruction and critique of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the process. It's a show which understands that mental health issues do not simply disappear and that the suffers are not at fault for their conditions, but also refuses to infantalize such people and claim that they have no moral responsibilities.

But what of the series as art? In that sense, the show varies wildly, rising and falling on its chosen theme. In the stunning first episode, all systems are going. The scrupulous animation (not present in mid-series episodes) focuses in on the small, realistic details in Sato's life. Indeed, I'd imagine that one learns a lot of things about their belongings and apartment if they never leave it; things they never would have noticed before. The soundtrack's eclectic mix (at times reminiscent of Yoko Kanno's stellar work on Cowboy Bebop) delivers each moment with force, expertly portraying how dramatic it is to perform everyday activities when one is a social cripple. The strength of Satoru Nishizono's writing- portraying horrific trains of thought and paranoid delusions- is also in full effect. When I watched Sato try to bring himself to function normally, practicing the simple act of speaking and introducing oneself, I felt the social anxiety of every job application, godawful orientation day and forced introduction in my life come rushing back. I feel that for any moderately shy and awkward person, there is plenty to relate to in N-H-K. But with this stellar first episode, the show kind of burns itself out, so to speak.

The next several episodes are strong in some aspects, but are ultimately unmemorable. When the chosen theme shifts from a harrowing look into the mind in isolation and the intrinsic human separation built into modern life to what is unfortunately a small-minded critique of the porn industry, the show loses steam. For all of the show's aforementioned good intentions in painting an ugly picture of the flaws in Japanese culture, it can sometimes paint in overly-broad strokes. The argument that eroge and hentai make Japan's young men view women as sex objects seems to be a bit of a chicken-and-the-egg scenario. Objectification and sexism has always existed; isn't it more likely that the gender politics issues in recent porn games and movies were created by sexist prejudices, rather than the other way around? As the topics become less and less relevant to the hikikomori condition, they lose the authenticity which drives the show's drama. When Takimoto wrote the novel Welcome to the N-H-K!, it came from a place of soul-baring honesty. Conversely, the anime sometimes feels like Nishizono and director Yusuku Yamamoto simply co-opted this story as a launching pad, especially when they delve into the evils (real or imagined) of multilevel marketing schemes and online gaming.

One of the show's strengths, however, is the balance which is brought to every character. The female characters, particularly Misaki and Hitomi, are portrayed somewhat more positively than Sato or Yamazaki, but are certainly not angelic. They have needs and wants, and while they seem to manipulate Sato at times, they do not devolve into misogynistic stereotypes of conniving women: they are just as unclear as he is as to what exactly they want from him. Like basically every character in the series, they are simply desperate to make their lives happy and meaningful.

While several characters seem to have some kind of sob story- Misaki in particular has a classic Mary Sue tragedy of a backstory- Yamizaki is a helpful character in his overall groundedness. He's not depressed, he wasn't raped or beaten or hooked on drugs as a child, he simply suffers from being a lonely young man surrounded by a culture which caters to his demographic with endless commodities. Alternatively, the show says that Yamizaki suffers from his own (minor) mental condition: otaku. The line between Yamizaki's neurotic, misogynistic, highly obsessive otaku lifestyle and that of Sato is so blurred that Sato's conspiracies begin to make a sort of terrible sense. Sato theorizes that "People who are drawn to otaku culture are already solitary or neurotic people; using anime and other media, the N-H-K has intentionally turned them into hikikomori." Give Yamazaki another year and a monthly allowance, and perhaps he'll go the same route.

The end of Welcome to the N-H-K! cleverly puts the secondary characters like Yamazaki and Hitomi at a distance, allowing the audience to wonder if they truly lead happy lives afterwards. As for the central two characters, the drama between them unfolds in a somewhat predictable but nevertheless powerful fashion. It also provides the right combination of conclusion, thematic resonance, and ambiguity. The show never sought out to answer the question of "what causes hikikomori?" Sato wanted to explain that to himself, to shove the burden of his life onto another entity. But the show goes out of its way to say that there is no blanket explanation, and that the causes and symptoms are different for everyone. Instead, Sato turns this self-rationalization in the form of a paranoid delusion into his strength. You need an enemy, he says: "it doesn't have to be the N-H-K. Call it anything. Call it God, if you want." More simply, however, "it's the basic assurances of staying alive which allow someone to remain hikikomori. In a way, it's a very luxurious lifestyle." The show doesn't presume to be a cure to the hikikomori condition, but gives a single case study: causes, symptoms, and eventual self-treatment.

The series is at its best when either being hyper-focused on one period of time inside Sato's head, or showing the progression of large chunks of time. The show notably focuses on the changing seasons, and truly captures the feeling of winter mornings, the bitter nostalgia of move-outs, and the relieving return of spring. It focuses on the parts of life that are inexplicably painful or difficult: introducing yourself to a stranger, actually working on a project even when you have plenty of time, getting out of bed in the morning, and so forth.

But for all of its topical allusions, stream-of-consciousness writing and psychologically damaged characters, the show only occasionally manages to achieve true poignancy. In its lesser moments, it combines the creepy and uncomfortable aspects of a tell-all memoir with the hackneyed and sentimental aspects of an unlicensed biography. At times it is reminiscent of an Oscar-bait film and at other times it borders on pornography. In trying to create a mature, relevant, "serious issues" drama, Yamamoto too often got lost in the social commentary and never reached the emotional or artistic heights which the source material allowed for. Welcome to the N-H-K! is certainly a show which says something, but falters in an attempt to say too much.