Horus: Prince of the Sun - A Look into Studio Ghibli's Origins

After an incredibly optimistic writing session with Revolutionary Road, I decided I was in dire need of a mood lifter less I risk falling into a deep, brooding state that even a fluffy cat wouldn’t cure me of (unless it is the cat I am still without, but that is a different matter). So I perused the list of foreign films I’ve been wanting to see (thanks to various recommendations) and lo and behold – Horus: Prince of the Sun, as recommended by Allan Estrella, was exactly what I needed. 

Horus is a 1968 anime movie and is the feature film debut of Isao Takahata, director of the classic and haunting Grave of the Fireflies in 1988. The film is about a boy, named Horus, who is entrusted with the Sword of the Sun after pulling it out from the ancient stone giant, Mogue. Before his father dies, Horus learns that he and his father were the last survivors of a sea village devastated by a wicked sorcerer named Grunwald, and thus sets off to avenge his village and stop Grunwald once and for all. 

Watching the film was an interesting experience: there are a lot of Studio Ghibli thematics throughout – the enigmatic forces of nature, the strong female characters, the complexity of motivations and emotions – yet there are a lot of distinctly Disney thematics as well – the evil sorcerer, the bubbly side characters, clashing forces of good and evil, and so on. In a sense, Horus really establishes the distinct divide between the legacies of Disney and Ghibli regarding thematics, animation, aesthetics, and writing. The film is widely unknown outside of Japan because it only ran for 10 days in theaters (for business reasons I’ve yet to really understand) and at that point in time, most of popular culture and public awareness was overshadowed by student protests, civil rights movements and anti-war sentiments pervasive during worldwide political and social unrest. Here, I’ll be highlighting some distinct elements reminiscent of classic Western storytelling and classic Eastern storytelling that sets Horus apart from any prior and subsequent production by Disney and Ghibli, and why it’s quite a gem in the history of anime and animation. 

Animation wise, Horus is topnotch for its time. There are only a few scenes where there is no animation but simply a panning/tilting of the camera with an audio track (a clear sign of budget issues) but besides that, Takahata directs some of the most awe-inspiring scenes that even some of recent animated features don’t come close to. For one, multiple framing types are used throughout the film: 

High-angle shot

Low-angle shot

Establishing/master shot

There are also multiple fields of depth and focal points: 

Grunwald is also holding the axe that Horus threw at him. The rope that holds the axe is blurred since Grunwald is the main focus. 

Here, there are multiple depths of field, with Horus being the closest and Grumwald being the farthest – all indicated by their size relative to the screen. 

These composition traits were severely missing from the Disney (chronicle) colleagues of Horus, The Aristocats in 1970 and Robin Hood in 1973, both which relied heavily on minimal dimensions (the majority of the film was mostly in a linear horizon, with the characters simply moving left and right with respect to the screen) and repetitious animation (there is a set amount of movements each character performs, resulting in a rather limited characterization and performance of the animated heroes and villains). With regards to animation, Horus outdoes The Aristocats and Robin Hood by a long-shot, and is even auteuristic in certain ways: 

A technicolor-like effect was used in the Enchanted Forest sequence. 

Mogue, the Rock Lord. 

Grunwald’s Mammoth of Ice, fighting flames created by the villagers. 

The sequence where the artists animated the reflection of sun on ice was visually astounding, notwithstanding Mogue’s epic entry into Grunwald’s lair. 

Use of a soft focus on a particular person/object, further emphasizing the focus by blacking out everything surrounding the person/object. 

Overlap of animation cels. 

Snow-Ice Wolves flying down the mountainside; these reminded me of Haku in Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. 

The Ice Mammoth and Mogue battle sequence reminded me a lot of the Forest Spirit from Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke.

I don’t think anyone can ever outdo the animation of Monstro from Disney’s Pinocchio, but the Pike sequence in Horus does an excellent job on a lot of levels; I liked this screenshot the most because of the field depth inferred from the unfocused branch/tree/rocks in the foreground with Horus and the Pike in the background and in focus.

Gorgeous yet frightening sequence where Hilda unleashes mice upon the village in an act of terror.

Hilda’s Owl reminded me of Archimedes from Disney’s The Sword in the Stone - except not funny, less floofy, and white. But back to my main point: evil characters are drawn menacingly, like this here owl (who is the less hilarious version of Archimedes)…

… and good characters are drawn with a charm! (also, they are floofy)

Comparatively, Disney animators used strikingly similar animation in both The Aristocats (right) and Robin Hood (left)

Technical aspects aside, Horus presents some interesting Western and Eastern thematics in its narrative as well. Set in Iron Age Scandinavia, the story is a classic Western fable rich with mystical powers of good and evil that tamper with humans. Foremost, Horus is a very pure and very pious protagonist: no evil thoughts cross his mind, and he’s the perfect archetype for the Western hero; in fact, the first scene revolves around him fighting a pack of vicious wolves, and he is only saved by the rock lord Mogue. Mogue’s first appearance is the classic set-up for such an adventure, the random encounter with a powerful entity who sets forth a goal for the protagonist to strive towards, and warns that there is an evil entity which Horus must be wary of. Additionally, the death of Horus’s father lends further momentum to the story and protagonist’s motivation: the same evil entity Mogue spoke of is who Horus must take his revenge upon. Good and evil are established very early in the film, and while we know Horus will persevere we also know he will encounter numerous barriers that may prevent him from attaining his ultimate goal. Horus includes song and dance like Disney films as well, though I felt that these were less like musical numbers and more like natural characteristics of a small village that has distinct customs and practices; also, singing is a distinct characteristic of Hilda, the main female protagonist, and this characteristic plays a role in how the plot progresses throughout the film, and is less of a classic depiction of femininity. There are also some side characters that are Disney-esque in their animation, but not quite to the extent of candy-covered nudnik that becomes so obnoxiously giddy and uplifting as to induce mental diabetes (I’m looking at you, Cinderella – and don’t think I won’t go and sic my cat that-I-am-still-without on your singing mice if they start messing with my pumpkins). 

Trials of character, essential to Western lore, are also present: there’s a scene where Horus confronts a giant Pike terrorizing the fishing village that saved him after his front encounter with Grunwald, and it’s a scene that echoes of classic fairy and folktales of the Brothers Grimm where a hero/heroine must destroy a elemental force in order to restore natural order (i.e. The Twelve Brothers, The Seven Crows, The Glass Coffin, The Nix in the Pond, The Ball of Crystal). Characters of good are drawn in friendly manner while characters of evil are drawn in poor disposition – the good look good, the bad look bad (for instance, Grunwald’s henchmen wolves are drawn menacingly while Horus’s bear, Coro, is drawn amicably); in a sense, the extremities of morale are personified almost literally, just as Jiminy Cricket was animated as Pinocchio’s conscious in Disney’s 1940 film. Then there’s old Grunwald himself, who simply wants to eliminate all humans in his sight because he’s a pleasant fellow like that. 

The villagers collectively decide how to deal with Grunwald’s antagonism. 

However, there are distinctly Eastern elements to the story as well. Various elements of nature are personified into distinct personalities: Mogue, the rock lord, is booming and almost Ent-like from J.R.R. Tolkien’s universe; Grumwald, the sorcerer, specializes in ice magic and sends out spells of snow-ice wolves; the collective, not the individual, is necessary to accomplish any feat; the environment is distinctly beautiful, dangerous, and omnipresent, trumping over all human attempts of control (in fact, Hayao Miyazaki was responsible for “Scene Design” during production; his painters hand can easily be seen in his famous works, such as Spirited Away in 2002); and most important of all, not all characters are solely evil or good without motivation. 

This last characteristic is particularly important and poignant in most of Studio Ghibli’s film to date (I say most because I haven’t seen all of them yet – I’ll get there soon though!) This is a sentiment I agree with very much so: I’m of the opinion that there’s no absolute good or evil without motive, and even then the term “absolute” is difficult for me to fully endorse at face value; instead, I usually try and analyze the narrative or psychological significance of moral extremes. Even then I feel that absolutes are much more common to Western narratives than Eastern narratives: Eastern stories commonly deal with undertones of actions rather than the actions themselves, and thus the stories often lend themselves to more nuanced (“grey”) characters regarding personalities of good and evil. In Horus, there’s a corrupt deputy named Drago who manipulates everyone so he can gain power and dispel of Horus; purportedly a spy for Grunwald, Drago is obviously not a “good guy,” but his motivations for power and prestige are very much human. Even more interesting than Drago is the character Hilda, who marks a very important thematic in Ghibli’s most famous productions – the strong, independent, and nuanced female character. 

It took Disney 52 years to progress towards strong female characters, beginning in 1989 with The Little Mermaid after starting with the classic damsel-in-distress princess archetype with Snow White in 1937. Takahata included a strong female from the very start with his directorial debut in 1968 with Horus, a philosophy and tradition that has additionally spearheaded by his contemporary, Hayao Miyazaki, with many subsequent Ghibli films such as Nausicaa and Princess Mononoke. In Horus, this character is none other than the solemn and tormented Hilda: though she is initially under Grumwald’s control, it’s obvious that she’s neither pleased or happy with her choice for immortality; in fact, a good portion of the film focuses on Hilda alone (at one point I wondered if Horus had gone M.I.A. just for the heck of it), and generously fleshes out the internal conflict she feels when she’s ordered to wreak havoc upon and kill the very villagers she’s grown attached to. There might be a bit of the damsel-in-distress characteristics – the siren-like singing, her daisy-like physical appearance – but beyond looks Hilda is an mentally and emotionally strong individual, especially considering with the personal conflicts she deals with for almost the entire span of the movie. Comparing Takahata’s Hilda to her earlier Disney counterpart, Aurora/Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty, 1959), is like looking at two different eras of social progress – the former the more progressive advocate of gender equality and the latter bent on chivalry and perpetual D.I.D.s who like being swept off their heeled-toed feet. 

Hayao Miyazaki on the left, Isao Takahata on the right

I like to believe Horus: Prince of the Sun marks the beginning of Takahata’s (and Miyazaki’s) conscious effort to move away from traditional Disney fare, storytelling, and animation aesthetics; yet ironically Horus has numerous elements in vein with Disney productions, which makes it an interesting hybrid: a product highly influenced by Western endeavors while actively trying to establish distinctly Eastern foundations – all with regards to animating stories and the characters within. Horus may easily be one of the most exceptional and overlooked gems in the world of animated films, and it’s a film I can’t recommend enough to those interested in animation, anime, Studio Ghibli and Disney productions. 

Additional Reading/Links for Those Interested

• Notes on Horus and its production history

• A nice video comparison of Disney’s linear animation (also shows how some animation was recycled between Mr. Toad and The Jungle Book)

• Opening credits of Disney’s Robin Hood: here you can see a prime example of linear animation in which the characters primarily move to the left or right, but not away or towards the screen to establish a sense of depth

• Peter Schneider and Don Hahn interview on Waking Sleeping Beauty, the documentary about Disney’s rise, fall, and comeback during the years 1984 to 1994

• Online resource for short stories in Grimm’s Fairy Tales, for those interested in the short stories I listed in this article

A Broth of Both

It’s my third time back in Vietnam and things have changed in the four year gap since I last visited. By the looks of it, helmets for scooters are now mandatory; old school J-walking gets you a ticket; there are more cars than ever as failing corporations try to salvage their remaining investments in developing countries, resulting in increased congestion in a country heavily designed with French infrastructure; Xe xích lô’s are now considered antiquities instead of classic transportation; buildings are being being torn down and rebuilt into sleek, modern buildings catering to Western tourists; foreign letterings and shops are becoming more prevalent, from 日本語 to Français to 한국어/조선말 and unsurprisingly, English. 

At the same time, things haven’t changed so much. Street vendors flood the streets with offerings from nước mía to cơm tấm; the streets are as amazingly chaotic as they ever were; the monsoon season is as brutally rapid and transient as before; people are still going about their lives per usual. In lieu of everything that has happened, everyone is living about their business regardless. 

Of all the things possible, this third trip reestablishes why I’ll never be fully accepted in either Eastern or Western culture by default of my own heritage and environment that I grew up in. 

My Vietnamese is rubbish – comparatively so. Listening and reading skills have improved and writing abilities are slowly inching upwards, but otherwise I tend to grunt tacit responses to questions, and by all means I know it’s bejeweled with a terrible accent. And it’s not my Vietnamese that makes me stand out – it’s my physical appearance too. I’m taller, stronger built, and my clothes are distinctly different than what the locals wear. 

But I’m Vietnamese too, a foreigner from abroad that shares the same ethnic roots with everyone here. This sets me completely aside from all other visitors and tourists who are distinctly non-Vietnamese (Americans, Englishmen, Germans, Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, the lot). I’m something else, a mixture of person fortunate enough to travel and someone who stems from the same bloodline of everyone here; I’m a amalgam of Eastern and Western hemispheres, a product of the Fall of Saigon in 1975, a somebody who’ll continuously bounce back and forth between two distinctly different cultures for the rest of my life. 

Is it a curse or a blessing? I’m more inclined to believe the latter, but realistically it’s a broth of both. Simultaneously I’ll be blessed to understand both schools of thought and cursed to never fully fit into either. It’s not a bad or good thing – it’s just reality. And who am I to blame my birthright for this condition? 

I live up to it – hell I embrace it. This is my life, and I’m grateful for it. 

It means that I’m lucky enough to be born into a life filled with endless support and love from family and friends; that I can empathize and sympathize with people from both culture hemispheres; that I have the sensitivity for culture humility and respecting differences; that I’m able to appreciate and learn from both Eastern and Western realms of thought, and perhaps have a distinct outlook unique to conventional ideas. 

It also means I’m unlucky to constantly experience misunderstandings, prejudices and self-mediated racism between both hemispheres; that regardless of my capabilities I’ll still be shunned in some form or a way either for my mispronunciation, my skin color, my background, my name or so on; that I’ll have a harder time finding a sense of community that doesn’t relinquish my own idiosyncrasies and feelings regarding my own heritage and upbringing. 

This is reality. It’s neither hot nor cold, good nor bad, happy nor sad – it’s pretty boringly lukewarm, in fact. But probably the best part of it all? 

I get to appreciate both the deliciousness of a breakfast croissant and a lunchtime bowl of steaming phở. So time to get on with life and love it for all its lukewarm brothiness – and I plan to live up to it well. 

Anime – the Medium

Let’s get this straight: anime is a medium, not a genre. 

Specifically, anime is a style of animation, spearheaded by Japanese animators as early as 1917. The famous characteristics – large eyes, small mouths, sharp penciling, action lines, facial expressions – shot forward with work of Osamu Tezuka, creator of legendary series “Astro Boy” and “Metropolis.” With the advent of video cassettes and eventual internet revolution, anime became more and more well known outside of Japan and is possibly one of the most thriving and influential animation industries possible. Most notably, many recent American animated programs and films are showing signs that anime’s popularity is beginning to seep into the minds of American animators. 

From the directing to the composition to the art to the cutting, anime’s influence is profound and prolific in much of modern American animation. The opening of “Toy Story 3” had distinctly sharper cutting that was immediately reminiscent of anime action-cutting: the zoom ins and outs, the close ups and pan outs, the Dutch angles – it was interesting watching the film, seeing how Pixar was subtlety celebrating the anime boom in America. And only a couple of years ago with Dreamwork’s “Kung Fu Panda” did we also see the same techniques employed, where a visually fantastic and comedic effect swept over the film’s premise with sweeping camera movements and razor-sharp shots and cutting. 

Then there’s the most obvious influence – the art style. Big multi-colored eyes, spiked hairstyles, unusual body proportions, exaggerated/default expressions – this is what we think of when the term “anime” pops up in conversation. American animated series have transitioned towards this stylization, away from the Golden and Silver age of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd and towards projects like “Teen Titans” (2003–2006), “Totally Spies” (2001–2008), “The Animatrix” (2003), “Halo Legends” (2010), “Batman: Gotham Knight” (2008), the “Ben 10” franchise (2005 onwards), and most famously “Avatar: The Last Airbender” (2005–2008). 

Whether or not one considers these American productions as anime is up for debate – what is undebatable is that these productions were obviously influenced by anime in stylization and perhaps composition and directing. The influence is there, and you’d be hardpressed to believe any animator who’d claim otherwise. 

Now after writing the article “FacePainting,” I got a lot of responses that claimed the original series “Avatar: The Last Airbender” was racist in itself because Americans were taking an Asian convention (anime) and using it themselves, and had therefore created a whitewashed version of anime into a American storyline. 

It must be reiterated thoroughly that anime is a medium, not a genre. So while it is a product of Japanese animation and invention it is still a means for which a story can be told and visually presented. What is distinctly Western or Eastern is the narrative intent and driving force of a story. 

In fact, some of the best and most well-known Japanese anime are either inherently Western in narrative or borrow several elements from Western lore. Shinichirō Watanabe’s “Cowboy Bebop” (1998) frequently alluded to American jazz and bebop culture, taking numerous narrative and characterization cues from classic film noir, pulp fiction, westerns and crime stories. Naoki Urasawa’s “Monster” (2004–2005) takes place in Eastern Europe in which a Dr. Kenzō Tenma pursues a sociopath/psychopath he saved years ago. “Gunslinger Girl” (2003–2004) takes place in modern-day Italy in which a Social Welfare Agency exploits its rehabbed patients and turns the girls into counter-intelligence and counter-terrorism killing machines. And Hayao Miyazaki’s “Kiki’s Delivery Service” (1989) takes place in a northern Europe-inspired universe where the young witch, Kiki, deals with misconceptions and prejudices while trying to establish herself as a successful witch. 

I find it hard to call these listed anime productions “yellow washing” because at their core, each narrative either strongly understands or alludes to distinctly Western culture and aesthetics. “Cowboy Bebop” is about as American as it gets, and its entire production team was Japanese – director, producers, composer, animators, voice actors, and so on. “Kiki’s Delivery Service” borrowed heavily from northern European environment, from its Mediterranean-like coast towns to its forrest enclosed cottages, and it too had an entirely Japanese production within the doors of Studio Ghibli. 

So with regards to “Avatar: The Last Airbender”: the anime-inspired style and Eastern influences in the developed Avatar universe – outfits, traditions, implied ethnicities, philosophies, etc – are an American production team’s homage to “Avatar’s” aesthetic roots. Claiming that it is “racist” because it is an American “whitewashed” anime version implies that anime is exclusive to Japanese animators while in reality, art styles are not bound solely by race or ethnicity. If this were the case, modern graffiti would have stayed where it was originally born – the ancient Greek city Ephesus (or modern-day Turkey). 

Anime is a style, and while it is prolific in Japan the stylization is not exclusive to Japanese animators. “Avatar” was animated in this style and vein primarily due to the series creators Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko drawing heavily from Hayao Miyazaki’s “My Neighbor Totoro,” (1988) “Spirited Away” (2002) and “Princess Mononoke” (1997), Shinichirō Watanabe’s “Cowboy Bebop” and “Samurai Champloo” (2004), and Gainax’s “FLCL” (2000), as well as other studios like Production I.G. (“Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex”) and Studio 4ºC (“Transformers Animated”). 

What matters most in the debate of “racist or not?” is the narrative function and presentation, not the animation or drawing style itself. For instance, Belgian artist Georges Rémi’s series “The Adventures of Tintin,” while drawn in a graphic friendly style, is arguably racist by modern standards because of how non-European/Caucasian ethnicities were presented in narration: their narrative function was generally secondary, arguably even caricatured and ignorant. 

Stories are a crucial component of society. Fictions indirectly and nonfictions directly reflect various shades and hues of social and technical constructions at any given time. They are told through various media of choice – writing, photography, film, music, sculptures, poetry, animation – and though each medium offers its unique narrative characteristics of strengths and shortcomings it is essential to focus on the core components of a narrative and what it entails – directly or indirectly so.

By focusing on style over substance, you invariably lose focus and detract away from the bigger issues at hand whether it be racism, sexism, politics or religion. So while narration and its implications employs a style in a medium, style is not bound to reciprocate this back. 

Anime is a style. It has never been a narrative genre, and it never will be. 

FacePainting

As some of you may know, Paramount commissioned (in)famous director M. Night Shyamalan to adapt the popular Nickelodian series “Avatar: The Last Airbender” into a movie trilogy. The TV series revolves a fantasical, Hayao Miyazaki-inspired universe that deals with individuals capable of controlling and manipulating (aka “bending”) one or several of the earth’s elements – Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire – and how the main protagonist, Aang, the Last Airbender, is destined to bring back balance when the Fire nation’s imperialistic and war-mongering desires get out of hand. The movie is slated for release July 1st this year, and its production has led to a lot of controversy specifically with regards to its casting. 

Though I’m not a particular fan of the show (nor do I dislike it) and am simply neutral overall, I feel that it is necessary to state for several reasons why I will not support this movie for professional, philosophical and personal reasons. 

History of American Facepainting

Americans have a long standing history of playing other ethnic minorities, starting as far as 1829 with the play “Metamora.” The play is about an Native American chief who at first befriends White settlers but through politics and a series of betrayals, eventually retaliates against the impending colonists, ultimately dying in a climatically melodramatic scene. The main character, Native American chief Metamora (who happened to be based off real Native American Metacomet, aka King Philip) was portrayed by Edwin Forrest, marking one of the earliest practices of Redface in which White actors played Native American roles. 

The humble beginnings of Redface lead up to the infamous time period of popular Blackface in which White actors smeared their faces with black paint and depicted racist driven caricatures of African Americans such as Zip Coon and Jim Crow. These caricatures were depicted in minstrel shows to much popularity, a popularity distinguished by the first movie with a soundtrack, 1927’s “The Jazz Singer” in which Al Jolson portrays a Jewish son who dives into Broadway and the show business via blackface; in fact, the climatic scene involves Jolson putting on his make up, transforming his very Jewish distinction into a character popular to a widely racist White majority. 

Eventually, Blackface gave way to other and more subtle racist interjections, a prime example being the 1961 film “West Side Story.” The studio opted to cast Natalie Wood as Maria, the Puerto Rican love interest and female lead. This was blatant Brownface in which White actors were favored over Latin actors, and a further criticism was how Puerto Ricans were depicted in the narrative. In fact, when approached for a possible remake, Ricky Martin downright refused, stating that he could not endorse what he believed to be an ethnocentric depiction of Latin cultural roots; Jennifer Lopez, also approached, disagreed with this sentiment and was enthusiastic about the project’s prospects. Though the basis for the ethnocentricism of “West Side Story” is still up for debate the fact remains that in the original 1961 film, a White actress was favored over a Latina actress, which is enough to argue a blatant Hollywood practice of Brownface. 

These three history examples lead up to my foremost argument about Hollywood’s tradition in racebending, exemplified by two examples currently in the spotlight – Disney’s “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time” and Paramount’s “The Last Airbender." 

Racebending in Practice - Modern Edition

Both "Prince of Persia” and “The Last Airbender” are great offenses that demonstrate a longstanding Hollywood tradition of racist undertones: both cast White actors to portray ethnic characters over respective ethnic actors. However, I believe that “The Last Airbender” offends more greatly than “Prince of Persia” for a few more reasons than expected: 

“Prince of Persia” at least had some twisted Hollywood marketing sense in that they casted a A-list actor, Jake Gyllenhaal, to portray Prince Dastan; despite the movie being uncannily silly in premise and narrative function (foremost, it’s based off a video game franchise) a well-known actor on the list would invariably pull in the numbers. 

As a disclaimer, I do not condone the casting for “Prince of Persia,” but for the record is was already a stupid idea to begin with and starred an actor that many Americans are familiar with. Given how it is a Jerry Bruckheimer production, I’m sure big money was involved with intent of creating another hit like Johnny Depp did for the “Pirates of the Caribbean” franchise, a franchise that was in itself silly and based off a classic Disneyland attraction. 

So while “Prince of Persia” offends with its casting of a A-list White actor for marketing reasons, “The Last Airbender” offends even more with its casting of newcomer/lesser known White actors over equivalent Asian actors to portray its starring Asian characters. The marketing reasons attached to famous actors does not apply here; instead, the marketing assumption is that White actors are more “capable” than Asian actors for pulling in viewers, with a possible secondary assumption in their “superiority” in acting abilities. This overarching assumption is the basis for an institutionalized racism innate to Hollywood’s long, long history of ethnic narratives. 

Why Paramount Pictures reinforces an Institutionalized Racism

In her paper “Levels of Racism: A Theoretic Framework and a Gardener’s Tale,” Camara Phyllis Jones (MD, MPH, and PhD) postulates that there are three levels of racism: internalized, personally-mediated, and institutionalized.

Internalized racism is how one personally feels about race and its meaning, though they may not necessarily act out on these underlying and internalized assumptions it most definitely affects them at the subconscious level (eg. “It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights-if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different.” – Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye).

Personally-mediated racism maintains social-structural barriers, the result of assumptions held by people or a community (eg. “This town was so much better before those goddamn ___ moved in. It’s their fault the town’s economy has gone down so much”).

Lastly, institutionalized racism is racism at the highest infrastructural level, in which policy is dictated by racial assumptions and discrimination (eg. South Africa’s long history of Apartheid in which black South Africans were politically and legally segregated from whites, spearheaded by the South African Nationalist Party from 1948 to 1994). 

Herein this last level of racism lies Paramount Studio’s greatest offense of reinforcing institutionalized racism within the Hollywood business. 

By openly preferring Caucasian actors over Asian actors in an open casting call, Paramount demonstrated their innate racist assumptions – that a no name White actor was more capable of increasing box office numbers and (perhaps) “acting” than an equivalent Asian actor regardless of the Eastern-based characters in the series. Additionally, by casting Asian actors as secondary or supporting characters, Paramount clearly wished to create an “authentically diverse” universe, one that is distinctly Eastern and non-Western in its roots. 

This assumption is wrong, unfounded and offensive on so many levels. Who is to say a Asian American boy is less articulate in English and capable in acting prowess than a Caucasian boy? Pixar casted Japanese-American Jordan Nagai to voice act Korean-American inspired Russell in their 2009 film “UP,” and it was arguably one of the most commercially and critically acclaimed successes of the year. Obviously this assumption can’t be the case, especially considering the success of other Asian American cinema such as “Better Luck Tomorrow” in 2002 and “The Joy Luck Club” in 1993. 

And who is to say Asian actors in distinctly Asian narratives are any less capable of drawing in American audiences? Ang Lee’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” in 2000 opened the gateways to a Hollywood flood of Hong Kong and Asian cinema that had been established by star Asian actor predecessors such as Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. These legacies proved that American audiences do enjoy Asian cinema, and though they were heavily based on martial arts lore they were nonetheless marketable and a great potential for Hollywood to spread out and include more Asian actors in their films. 

Perhaps the greatest offense that the “heroic” characters are portrayed by lily White actors while the “villainous” characters are portrayed dark-skinned Indian actors in lieu of the fact that all the characters have distinctly Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian and Inuit characteristics regardless of their “good” or “badness." 

This purports my conceit that Paramount blatantly reinforces racism at the institutional level, driven by innately racist assumptions and an ethnocentric desire to bundle Eastern culture – rich in history and human stories – into a big old Yellowface bowtie. Make it as pretty and shiny and "Asian-y” as you want – in the end, this movie is racist and a disrespectful slap in the face of the Eastern heritage it so wishes to profit off of. The studios underlying assumption about marketability and acting capability of White over Asian actors is insulting, and to claim that their production is “diverse” because they cast Asians as secondary and supporting characters ignores the bigger issue at hand – the starring, main Asian characters are portrayed by White actors instead of Asian actors. 

Shyamalan – Sold-out, Oblivious, or both? 

Indian-American director M. Night Shyamalan has consistently defended the movie as “diverse” much in the same vein of Paramount’s assertions, citing that the production team took careful means to create a film rich in Asian culture and aesthetics – and like the studio, not once has he addressed the bigger issue at hand, that White actors have been favored over Asian actors to play Asian characters. 

He completely misses the point about ethnic and racial diversity: dress it up all you want, but at the end of the day it’s Yellowface all over again. It’s an insult to assume that Asians and Asian Americans will be ok with White actors once again taking on the starring roles that are Asian archetypes, and worse that Shyamalan seems peachy keen on the whole premise. 

Shyamalan has even stated that he desired to work with Nicola Peltz, the Caucasian actress slated to play the water bender Katara. This statement highlights my other postulate that Shyamalan is not a dumbfounded, overridden director force fed to direct a Yellowface film – that instead he obviously had a say in who he wanted casted, that he fully endorse White actors over Asian actors to play the main parts. 

Was he bought? Is he oblivious to the institutionalized racism he’s endorsing? Or is it a bit of both? Whatever the reason, it’s clear Shyamalan is in love with his cinematic vision despite the social implications at hand, and for that I’ve lost all respect for him, especially considering that he himself is a minority director and would presumably empathize with minority actors barred from acting roles due to Hollywood’s underlying racial assumptions. As of now, this director is unredeemable – in screenwriting, in career, and in a self-indulgent streak that ignores world issues for his own self-fulfillment. This is simply shameless. 

“Fantasy Universe”

Defenders claim that this just a fantasy universe, some stating that they saw main protagonist Aang as a “White guy” and that the casting is simply “interpretational.” This again misses the point completely – this is a narrative based explicitly on Asian roots, and for a movie that lavishes in the history and beauty of Eastern culture its casting of White actors in the lead “hero” roles is racist and ethnocentric. “Avatar: The Last Airbender” creators Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko have stated multiple time that the story is Asian inspired – characters, costumes, scenery, everything. They envisioned a fantasy universe that dealt with Asian folklore, with cultural and image aesthetics derived from their respective Eastern roots. 

An additional angle of the “fantasy universe” defense is that this narrative is fictional and thus subject to interpretation in any adaptation – so why should “The Last Airbender” be sideswiped as an offense in its film adaptation? 

Foremost, a great many narratives are fictional regardless of the universe they occupy. Period pieces/history-based, science fiction, epic fantasies, thrillers, romances, psychological – these are all human narratives with fictionalized characters in their respective universes (the exception would be for nonfictions and autobiographies, but even the factual legitimacy can be called into question). When critics lambasted “Inglourious Basterds” as inaccurate and a rewriting of history, director Quentin Tarantino replied: 

“My characters don’t know that they are part of history. They have no pre-recorded future, and they are not aware of anything they can or cannot do. I have never pre-destined my characters, ever. And I felt now wasn’t the time to start. So basically, where I’m coming from on this issue is:

(1) My characters changed the course of the war.

(2) Now that didn’t happen because in real life my characters didn’t exist.

(3) But if they had’ve existed, from Frederick Zoller on down, everything that happens is quite plausible.”

Extending this to “The Last Airbender” story, the characters are presumably in a universe that is centered around what we otherwise identify with as Eastern culture. The characters themselves may not know it, but we know full well that they are analogous to many aspects of Asian culture. From the philosophies to the customs, the narrative of elemental benders lends itself to Eastern heritage; these characters don’t exist in real life, but in their universe they are very much Asian in roots, and with their existence comes the story popular and beloved by many fans of the series. 

With this in mind, Paramount’s casting is even more offensive and disrespectful. If they had any sort of cultural humiliation and decency, the studio would understand that they are in fact depicting cultures that have histories and legacies of human stories and accomplishments specific to the Eastern hemisphere in this narration, and to bundle it all up all nice and pretty with a Yellowface frosting is nothing short of ethnocentrism and institutionalized racism. 

But the voice actors spoke English in the original television series!

Of course they did. English is the predominant language in America, and let’s face it – most viewers prefer to watch instead of watch and and read at the same time. On the opposite fold, the anime series “Fullmetal Alchemist” is Western inspired with some Chinese and Middle Eastern characters – and yet they speak Japanese, simply because the production is Japanese and primarily marketed to a Japanese audience. Similarly, “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is an American production that was marketed primarily to a American audience that is predominantly English-speaking. 

Does this make “Avatar: The Last Airbender” any less Eastern or “Fullmetal Alchemist” any less Western?

No. The creators of each series have explicitly stated their respective influences: “The Last Airbender” creators DiMartino and Konieztko listed Asian culture and Hayao Miyazaki’s cinematic legacy as main influences for their narrative premise; “Fullmetal Alchemist” creator Hiromu Arakawa detailed how she researched the European Industrial Revolution and Western-based hypotheses on alchemy in order to flesh out a convincing world. 

Their narratives may be conveyed in the non-traditional language, but the narrative structure and influences are true to their origins in both series. This is what matters the most, and it’s what Paramount and Shyamalan completely misunderstand when they so thoroughly believe they are being “true” to the series’ distinctly Eastern cultural and aesthetic roots when they’ve casted White actors for the main roles. 

“Isn’t it time we stopped looking at race?”

NO. 

This argument flies from the ends of Shyamalan and Paramount defenders, who believe that in this day and age we should all be colorblind to race and its associated implications.

However, as presented in the PBS award-winning documentary “Unnatural Causes,” it’s been proven that ethnic minorities, compared to White Americans in the same socioeconomic statuses, have higher rates of chronic illnesses such as cardiovascular diseases and heart attacks than their white counterparts. 

These higher rates are the result of allostatic load and weathering – the resultant and combined stresses that can result from differing levels of racism that are either explicit or implicit. For instance, a Mexican lawyer with a degree from Yale who is followed around in a store would experience self-mediated racism; another example would be a African American doctor with a MD and PhD who sees a woman gripping her purse tightly when they ride the same elevator together, in which case he would also experience self-mediated racism. Both examples highlight how ethnic minorities experience a day-to-day incident of racism, and presumably these incidents activate a certain amount of distress (stressors) that subconsciously build up and cause them to be more susceptible to illnesses when the stressors inadvertently compromise their immunity. 

Consequently, ignoring the effects and significance of race, while a ideal vision, is inapplicable and inappropriate to current social and political infrastructures at hand. We must consider race as a factor in any case since racism still plays a active role in how people operate on a daily basis. 

This is not to say that we simply cast aside all inhibitions: if you’re in the projects, it’s generally a bad idea to assist anyone “find their lost dog in the alleyway.” What is important and relevant is understanding our own racist tendencies in order to begin rising above them; furthermore, comprehending that other ethnicities are people jut like ourselves, that their behaviors and lifestyles are governed by their own culture, histories and respective political and social infrastructures that they occupy. 

For these reasons, I was never a fan of the original “Karate Kid” because despite it’s casting of Noriyuki ‘Pat’ Morita as the famous Kesuke Miyagi (aka Mr. Miyagi), the story was a classic Western-style coming-of-age parable that, in a sense, shallowly alluded to Eastern philosophy for Western application and usage.

The newer adaptation with Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan – while not without its editing faults – dealt not only with a coming-of-age story but also with a universal message of humane goodness that unites us all despite cultural differences. The 2010 remake went even further to highlight these differences, and instead of exoticizing such discrepancies breaks away from traditional ethnocentrism and endorses cultural humility, a willingness to step away from an “all-knowing” outsiders approach.

This deep respect for Eastern cultural roots in the 2010 “Karate Kid” is gapingly missing from Paramount’s and Shyamalan’s approach in “The Last Airbender,” in which they so thoroughly believe in the appropriateness of their sidestepping Asian actors for White actors in the main roles, actors who could never fully empathize with the Eastern philosophies and aesthetics they are set to act out. 

A Personal Argument

There’s a reason why “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,” despite its untimely silliness, was so successful when it first launched in the US: for one, its cast was ethnically diverse alongside the awesomeness of gigantic monsters blowing up cardboard buildings and grey putty minions sidestepping haplessly as the rangers whooped their respective butts.  

I knew many Asian children (especially Asian American girls) who loved the Yellow Ranger Trini Kwan because she was played by the late Vietnamese-American actress Thuy Trang. They loved her not only because she kicked ass, but additionally because she was Asian. Many of the same girls also loved Fa Mulan in Disney’s 1998 “Mulan” for this same reason, and it was a major plus that she was voiced by Macanese-born American actress Ming Na. These women, these characters – they were them, they empathized and sympathized with their cultural roots, they were heroes. 

The point is that they had an Asian hero to look up to on the big movie screens and television series, that with these heroes they were assured that as Asians, they had value to some Hollywood and network executives. Above all, they were being represented, which meant that someone understood that as Asians they too comprised the American public. 

I can only imagine how many disappointed Asian American children will flock to the theaters only to see that their animated heroes are now depicted by White actors who could never truly empathize with their distinct Asian cultural roots. This is a movie that casted actor Jackson Rathbone, who believes that being Asian means “[pulling] my hair up, [shaving] the sides, and definitely [getting] a tan. It’s one of those things where, hopefully, the audience will suspend disbelief a little bit.”

Suspending belief, Mr. Rathbone? I believe the term you’re looking for is Yellowface. 

Closing Remarks

“The Last Airbender” had so much potential to break Hollywood’s tradition of racebending. Paramount disappointingly chose not to, and Shyamalan shamelessly agreed to the terms at the expense of his own cultural roots. 

I don’t blame the actors – they are simply looking for work in an unforgiving business, trying to make a name for themselves. And while their comments can be idiotic it must be noted that they were recruited by a larger institution that revels in racist assumptions. 

For these numerous reasons, I will not endorse this film. As a Vietnamese American, I find “The Last Airbender’s” production and casting a great offense to my cultural roots, and believe that Paramount – and especially Shyamalan – should be ashamed of themselves. Frankly, I hope they go down in film anthropology as infamous practioners of self-indulgent, self-delusional ignorance, stupidity and racism. 

I only hope that one day, if I happen to have a kid, that they will have someone to look up to on the big screen, someone that shares their innate empathy and understanding of their Eastern (and perhaps mixed) cultural roots. If not, I’ll be damned to get Hollywood away from wallet when they try to profit off of racebending and that blasted 3D gimmick they seem to love so much.  

For more information on the controversy, go here. For a satirical take on the issue, go here. 

YouTube series of personal reasons and messages in boycotting “The Last Airbender” film. 

Link to Roger Ebert’s response in the December 23, 2009 Answer Man column regarding “The Last Airbender” casting controversy. 

…

Edit on 7/9/10: A little over a week has passed this article has been published, and from the responses I’ve been getting it seems I may have missed a few key aspects about the controversy initially. For supplementary readings, here are a few links: 

Sunday Roundup 7/4/10 – Q&A for a lot of the feedback I received. This clarifies a lot of misunderstandings and misconceptions about what I’ve written. 

Cats, Cows, and Pies – A guest post by Viet Le of word/game, who perhaps articulated the most important point I missed in initially writing this article. I’m fortunate enough to be of his acquaintance and continuously bounce ideas off him and back.