That’s a Star Wars reference, for those plebians among you.  Episode six of Maria-Sama ga Miteru does indeed mark not only the halfway point for the newest season, but also the darkest hour (though perhaps that’s actually the next episode), in which the characters are backed against the wall.  I started typing this with no clue as to where I was going, having exhausted most of the critical avenues that seemed to make much sense regarding the show — however, I have realized a look at the structure might be fun, or at least wile away time better spent on my thesis.

If you’re still wondering about The Empire Strikes Back reference, that movie traditionally marks the point at which, colloquially, shit gets real.  The title has always been deemed appropriate, because the Empire wins the movie – Star Wars: A New Hope is won by the Rebel Alliance, plain and simple.  They get the medals, the gags at the end, happy-fun-time for everyone.  Except Grand Moff Tarkin, presumably, as he’s dead.  Empire, however, is dark, horrible, and grim: Luke loses his hand, making him more like his father, who is, incidentally, Darth Vader.  Han Solo is a popsicle, in Boba Fett’s hands, Leia has admitted her love only to have her love, uh, turned into a popsicle, and everyone’s all-around sad.  When you see these analogous signs in your show/movie/book of choice, you know you’ve reached the halfway point.  The protagonists must be fucked at the halfway point, or else there’s nowhere for them to go.  Story is always a downswinging, following by an upswinging — this is the mythic system: your experience may vary, as individual pieces may begin or end at any point on the arc, but the arc is always there.

Strangely, I don’t think it’s Star Wars that has structure on my mind; instead, I believe it’s Friday the Thirteenth.  I went to see the remake/reboot last night.  By the way, if you’re into that sort of movie at all (and I am only a bit), go check it out, it’s the pitch-perfect example of the genre, really.  I bring it up here because I could watch the machinery of the movie structure slot into place.  I won’t belabor how, as, if you’re into that sort of thing, you’ve already seen Scream.

Now to Marimite.  Its structure sometimes shows through the skull as well.  This is not a problem necessarily, though it is always better, unless the product is post-modern, if the mechanics are effaced by the time the audience gets to it.  All the characters of Marimite are positioning themselves for catastrophe.  Rei means to step out of Yoshino’s life at just the wrong moment, as Yoshino is seeking Rei’s approval of her non-standard soeur choice.  Sachiko, for her own good, plans to cling to Yumi at a time when she (Yumi) can’t handle any distractions, as she is busy working out how Touko works.  Yes, Yumi, you’re thinking of Touko as though you know her, because you do, pretty well.  You don’t know yourself.  This is the pretty typical problem for stories like this one, that the protagonist must learn him- or herself to successfully navigate the thorny maze of social issues that grow up around him or her.  I cite Skip Beat (which I have by no means given up on, I just seem to always find something more pressing to watch.  Perhaps my next hardline-weekend will be catching up on SB).

I think it’s interesting — given that many of us who love Marimite best still, at times, think of it as noodling around in a girls’ school in the same way Phish noodles around on stage — to examine Marimite’s plot, which appears to be quite carefully constructed.  It’s something to remember, I suppose.

This allows me to expand a little, in fact, and touch a bit on the apparently-somewhat-reviled series of posts I made here regarding Haibane Renmei.  Even slice-of-life shows (which Marimite is not) still adhere to a constructed line of events.  Hidamari Sketch maneuvers its events in such a way so as to get the maximum emotional response from each.  If the show allowed its events to occur in order then several of the nostalgia-, sadness-, or celebration-inducing scenes would fall flat, as some happen pretty early chronologically and we wouldn’t be attached to the characters in the necessary way yet.  This also reveals some of the meaning behind Haruhi Suzumiya’s whacked-out chronology: the climax of the show happens earlier than midway in the chronology, but putting it at the end, after several things that are later in the chronology, allows us to get to know the characters more, so we can fully sympathize with the sadness behind their final messages to Kyon when he’s in the other world shard.

Haibane Renmei, in my opinion (and it is apparently necessary to remind you that everything I say in a post reflects my opinion, and not some unequivocal truth or hateful attack on your beliefs) tries to do this very thing I’m describing, but fails.  The events we are supposed to file away as character development and attachment are simply too generic and too empty of actual character to do anyone any good.  No character in HR stands out to me, I couldn’t connect to any of them.  I was, thus, left adrift with the events and the setting with which to amuse myself, and they’re not very innovative, well-crafted, or well-explored (I do not require all three, but one, at least, should show up at some point).

I suppose I should set out a bit of my personal history here; this problem perhaps stems, at least in part, from the little you know about me.  I thought I was pretty transparent, but it does strike me that my posts could be read as pretty impersonal.  So: I am a creative writer, focusing primarily on fantasy, science-fiction, and horror.  Being scholarly as well as creative, I have studied these fields as well as working in them to the best of my ability.  The thesis I’m working on right now, which you’ve heard me mention several times if you keep up with my posts here, is an homage to Washington Irving, set in a world where magic exists; it has also ended up being an alternate history, as I thought it wouldn’t make any sense for world events to be exactly the same if magic were around (I love, love, love Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, but why are politics exactly the same, given that at one time magic was prevalent?).  For example, in my thesis Louis XIV is still alive in the 1800s, and because of that the War of the Spanish Succession is still going on.  America is still a British colony, because it is so sparsely populated by European settlers (the American Indians, having the recourse of their local gods and magic, didn’t allow for much in the way of expansion) to have ever gotten up the steam to rebel.  In all this I have a character I think is sympathetic and interesting.  Whether you believe these elements, and the others I haven’t mentioned (it’s a novel, there’s a lot of stuff in it) meet the requirements I listed above, I am doing my level best to get them there to the best of my ability.

The reason I mentioned all that is to illustrate this: that I have very particular ideas about how fantasy works.  I do not like all fantasies.  I don’t even like all fantasies that adhere to my theories, because of other things involved (writing, likable characters — where applicable — so on, so forth).