DEFYING DATAFICATION

TONY T. - Writer, 3rd Year, Economics and Data Science

"One could say that it feels somewhat… fresh."

I find that the point of no return for most franchises is generally when they start listening to their audiences. While responding to audiences or any outside forces is not inherently awful, as they provide good feedback in refining a work, too much results in pandering and a series feeling artificial. The existence of the later Macross entries which essentially copy the same formula as the original with one or two small changes (which in some cases retconned the very message of the entire series) is a good example. While I find Macross 7 enjoyable and Frontier passable (buoyed by its excellent soundtrack), their very existence comes from creators responding to the aspects of the original that fans were particularly enamored with. To me, they don’t feel complete in of themselves anymore, as to fully grasp the meaning behind these series, the viewer has to understand the metafiction. Hence, I find that series driven by fan appeasement results not just in more limited thinking, but an inherent dynamic of needing to “see behind the curtain” in a sense and thus they lack the magic that makes captivating narratives engaging. Frankly, this is definitely a personal complaint. I’m not trying to argue for why my perspective is the correct one or why people should agree with me; rather, this is just to illustrate where I come from when I discuss entries in franchises with numerous entries, like Precure.

Although, the dynamic I described earlier isn’t exactly the best way to talk about Precure in a chronological sense, if only because the series has always been made to pander in a specific way to its audiences. The original entry, Futari wa Precure, essentially existed as Toei Animation’s attempt to engage a broader group of viewers in a magical girl show in the same way that Sailor Moon had wider appeal in its mix of magical girl tropes and elements from more traditionally male-oriented media. Precure's way of going about this was to add aspects from battle shounen, namely the over-the-top choreography made famous in series like Dragon Ball or One Piece. To say that this formula was a success would be an understatement, as Precure has emerged as a huge cultural institution. Its audience consists not just of the directly targeted demographic of children, but also a wider otaku audience that has the disposable funds to spend on merchandise, perpetuating the corporate engine. Again, this feels reminiscent of how battle shounen have appealed to a wider audience beyond the main demographic of adolescent males. And yet, the first five Precure series, from Futari wa to GoGo! don’t feel nearly as “otaku” as more recent entries. A part of this could be some personal bias due to being born not two years before the first entry started – my view of Japanese geek culture will, after all, be more influenced on what I’ve personally observed in my lifetime. Still, I believe that the sixth entry, Fresh Precure, is specifically the entry that transitioned Precure into more of a crossover hit compared to its predecessors, which merely borrow elements from other genres.

I say all that, but Fresh isn’t all that different from other series in the franchise, especially in the context of media as a whole. It’s not like comparing, say, nuclear engineering and philosophy. Fresh still features two to five girls bestowed with the magic power to transform into super sentai-like heroines in order to fight great evils that threaten the fabric of the world. Where it differs is in its presentation, characterization, and tone. The most immediate difference one can see between Fresh and its predecessors are the far more complex character designs. One look at official art and concept sheets shows that the characters in Fresh have designs that I can probably best describe as being extremely “otaku”, with a large amount of frills, ribbons, and other aesthetic additions that the label implies. It doesn’t exactly animate too well, but Fresh’s intention for more wide appeal is obvious even in this aspect.

The aspect which I think best benefits from this, though, is characterization. Rather than featuring bland faceless monsters as villains, Fresh’s villains are mostly human. I say this both as a descriptor of their humanoid character designs, as well as the way their character arcs are written, although these two aspects are correlated to an extent. Previous entries mostly had their protagonists fight generic monsters, which didn’t exactly lend itself to deep character writing or interesting dynamics between the heroes and villains. In contrast, the villains of Fresh are not just “good for a kid’s show”, but outright some of my favorite villains in media as a whole. The most obvious example would be the character of Eas, who takes on a human identity of Higashi Setsuna. As a standard Precure villain for the first half of the show, Eas’ role mostly entails siccing monsters on the main characters on a weekly basis. Yet, throughout these appearances, she continuously finds herself interacting with the main cast, particularly Momozono Love, in her human form. This results in Eas continuously contemplating her purpose as an individual fighting for Moebius (the main antagonist). While this plays out somewhat slowly, it culminates in Setsuna eventually rejecting her identity of Eas completely, choosing to assist the protagonists as Cure Passion. The trope of an antagonist becoming a Precure would later be reused in many other entries, but the particular slow burn of Eas’ character arc is uniquely powerful and is a major strength of the show’s first half.

And yet, Eas is only my second favorite villain in Fresh Precure, as Westar, one of her allies under Moebius, outright steals the show every time he’s on stage. Admittedly, Westar’s arc is largely similar to Eas as a denizen of Moebius’ technological dystopia, Labyrinth. He initially starts out hostile to Earthlings as his assigned task is to conquer and assimilate them into Moebius’ network. Slowly but surely, he begins warming up to the main characters, eventually outright joining them against his original master in the final few episodes. However, Westar differs from Eas in terms of the way his arc unfolds. Where Eas became Setsuna and eventually Cure Passion by meeting the main heroes and having their influence illuminate the truth of their conflict to her, Westar’s shift is more gradual. Westar isn’t exactly brought over to the heroes’ side via some dramatic scene filled with tension and pathos. Rather, he simply begins to understand the flaws with Labyrinth and starts to enjoy his time on Earth. It should be mentioned that Westar is almost entirely a comic relief character, as his schemes to subjugate Earth involve, among other things, transforming a character’s wig into a monster, which makes everyone in their town gain strange hairstyles. And yet, this fact actually works in the favor of Westar’s characterization. Said wig example, for instance, really isn’t thwarted by the protagonists’ actions. The scheme fails because simply put, the denizens of the characters’ town find their new hair exciting and don’t really mind. This sort of dynamic with Westar’s failed actions give him a kind of “Team Rocket” dynamic, which really works in terms of his slow shift from an antagonistic and somewhat off putting “himbo”, to an individual unsure of how to balance his devotion to his master with his newfound appreciation of the world he must conquer, to an outright ally of the forces of good.

Neither Eas nor Westar’s dynamics are subtle, but they are done very effectively in slow burns that make use of the fact that each Precure entry runs through a full year and has around fifty episodes. Additionally, they show the effect that Toei’s slightly increased focus on a broader audience had, as the characterization is simple enough to be understood by children, yet powerful enough to where it can captivate adults. It is this balancing act between the child and otaku audience that Fresh Precure excels at as it conveys far more depth than a series of this category is typically capable of.

Fresh’s immediate successor, Heartcatch, perhaps walked the tightrope better. Fresh’s conflict is still a direct hero versus villain story, with the antagonist being a technological nightmare hellbent on conquering worlds and collecting individuals as data, opposed by the heroes who stress the importance of human individuality. It’s a fun themewhich gives the later episodes a very interesting visual aesthetic of an extreme dystopia run purely by a computer, but it’s mostly set dressing for the conflict of good against evil. In comparison, Heartcatch’s story is a generational conflict with large implications which it actually lives up to. It thrives not just as a story that is “good for what it is”, but a genuinely captivating tale of an individual trying to live up to the lineage that has been passed down to them. As I described in a previous article, Heartcatch isn’t so much a story of man against man, but rather man against time – its characters struggle in their attempts to be as great as their predecessors and ultimately leave a lasting mark on the world, becoming everlasting legends beyond their days.

Fresh just isn’t that. It doesn’t have nearly the grandiose scope that Heartcatch does. But yet, I like it almost as much, because it’s a refinement of what makes traditional magical girl storylines so good, with compelling heroes and villains. It uses the most narratively cohesive elements that appeal to otaku and rather effectively combines them with elements that Precure already possessed. While Heartcatch is probably the series I enjoy more of the two, it outright wouldn’t exist without Fresh, which defined the way the franchise would mix its two clashing audiences. At the risk of using a vaguely defined term that is hard to explain, Fresh also has a slight bit more “charm” to it. Heartcatch is an utterly refined work and is close to what I’d describe as perfect in its style, characters, and overall presentation. There’s a sort of amateurish effort in Fresh where it feels as though Toei Animation hasn’t exactly figured out their long term direction for the franchise. This is unlike modern Precure series, which feel almost too stale for mindlessly following the direction set out by Fresh and Heartcatch. In no better place can this be seen than Fresh’s first opening, which is a fairly catchy song that fits the otaku-esque feel that the series is going for, yet is sung completely out of tune. A musician friend of mine with no context described it as being mixed horrendously and questioned if anyone had actually properly listened back to it. In spite of that, I find its clumsiness charming in almost the same way I find Westar’s clumsy path from inept villain to goofy hero engaging. Fresh isn’t the type of series that would ever be considered perfect by anyone with its numerous flaws, but it has a unique feel to it. Without ever feeling like it’s pandering, as the production is far too clumsy an effort to effectively do so, Fresh Precure manages to surpass the original entry in terms of influencing the franchise’s direction, in its blend of different genres and demographic appeals. It possesses a charm that is hard to replicate, and that in of itself is rare in a sequel, much less a series that is the sixth entry in a large franchise. Much like its characters, Fresh Precure does not wish to be but a piece of data as it instead defines the entire trend.