Also, after reading The Voyage of the Space Beagle and Slan I can say that A.E. Van Vogt actually managed to live up to his stated dictum. Sometimes nigh on arbitrarily.

I’ll have to place this in the ponder queue, but I do think using these constructively may [new] open points of argument for some central works (mainly via the subjective nature of this classification).

I distinctly remember Canaan from this year’s summer season; a show which I had dropped due to what I deemed to be terrible story and storytelling, but got browbeat by a few of its outspoken fans who kept raving about Alphard, the unconventionally very attractive chief villain.

I actually finished the show, and my opinion of it didn’t change. It does suck. But I do like Alphard.

In contrast you have Bakemonogatari, who did a version of ‘case of the week’ in terms of story structure, but IMO did so many other things with it — almost a red herring to a part coming of age tale and part love story. But even still, this is less important to most of its ‘fans’ who flock to it primarily through the almost by-numbers entries it made to the character database, save for Senjougahara who appears to be rather exceptional.

In Bakemonogatari I did enjoy a lot of ‘reading’ into its text. It’s very, very fun; and is quite difficult to match as an episodic blogging subject in the manner I executed it.

A. E. van Vogt (a famous SF writer) used to claim that something interesting had to happen ever 500 words in his work, which is roughly every 1.5 pages.

So you’re definitely right, the two things have *typical* outlets, but they don’t always reveal themselves in those places. Though I can say that I certainly have trouble, personally, if I can’t sympathize/empathize/identify with someone, somewhere. The Damnation of Theron Ware has fascinating ideas, really awesome ones, but I was miserable partway through it, and from then on, because all the characters are terrible people.

I think we all generally appreciate something more if it features both “smarts” and “fun.” But I think our secondary discourses tend to ignore one or the other. There are weird systems, too. For instance, most people within formal academia assume someone writing an article on X enjoys X, so the article typically doesn’t feature anything about the “fun” aspect. If you’re not used to that assumption academic writing can seem dry and pointless — why do they bother, one might ask.

On the other hand, fans often put to one side the “smarts” side, either because they don’t want to bother, or more likely, it’s the place where opinions can differ more wildly. There’s really either entertained or not entertained, within the “sublimation” side (typically; as I said, we sometimes try to examine how that side of things works as well). On the “intellection” side there could be as many “readings” as there are people, and it sounds more like you’re trying to get into an argument if you go on talking about what you saw there. Which isn’t necessarily true, but I wonder if that’s why, as fans, we often leave the “smarts” to the side.

Let’s say I accept all of these ideas, which I’m inclined to do. I was already looking for examples to work this on until I god stumped by Kaiji. What’s interesting in this case is how the elements of ‘fun’ and ‘smarts’ aren’t where one would usually look in a show, or at least it would appear that neither is present until one reflects on the experience of the show.

I argued that the show was eminently unrelatable [->] and yet morally (ergo intellectually compelling). But Baka-Raptor responded with something compelling himself:

It’s ok (and often preferable) to watch anime detached. Kaiji is a story about a guy who isn’t you, your mom, or the guy next door. It’s a story about people with problems being forced into crazy situations and doing crazy things. “That was awesome!” is a much more relevant reaction than “I totally relate to him!” If there’s anyone we should feel connections with, it’s the rich guys watching Kaiji’s struggles for their own amusement.

[->]

When he says it’s awesome, I take it to mean that one is in an entertained state of awe in the midst of viewing, despite his following statement that contributes more to the ‘smart’ way of appreciation.

This is supported on the one hand, by how you’ll see the show doesn’t have attractive character designs; and that it’s characters are either outright evil, or are the dregs of society. The whole experience is like watching maggots finishing off a carcass while being preyed on by rodents from above, and ants from below (and cannibal maggots too!).

However, the confluence of the bifurcated ideas occur to me (now) in that the structure of Kaiji relies rather heavily on the cliffhanger. That is an emotional hook within the scope of fun and entertainment if there is one. “What I’m witnessing here is horrible, but I can’t not see how it resolves… and I can’t wait to see it!” The narrative throws you in a captive state to its manipulations more than most shows I think, and this must be well within the realm of an entertaining experience I believe.

So taking that definition into account, the works that I find the most stimulating – and which Scholes specifically focuses on – can be described as a sort of “artertainment” (if you will forgive the ugly combination of terms).

Also, I’m glad to see that you touched on the pitfall of separating smarts and fun, which seems to be the biggest problem with Scholes’ argument. I often enjoy (as do many others) the intellection of films simply for the joy of understanding hidden meanings and recognizing subtleties of writing and direction.

Yeah, the shouting matches, which I’ve probably been guilty of myself, aren’t really very productive. I think a really, genuinely good piece of entertainment will have at least something of each in it, though certainly participatory culture is a great way to beef up one side or the other after the fact.

I also think Scholes’ terms help a lot here, because they don’t have a knee-jerk emotional content so far as I know. Sublimative refers, I believe (in the selection he doesn’t directly define them) to the emotional and psychological responses we have when we connect with the plot and characters of a piece, in that they strike chords with something internal to us. The intellection is a little more obvious, I suppose, but it has to do with things like theme and pattern, the appreciation of stuff.

The lines really blur all the time. Something shot, animated, or narrated beautifully seems more like “intellection” but I usually have deep emotional responses to such things — hence my love for a writer such as Dunsany and a director such as Shinbo.

I do think Mazinger Z hits up on issues of morality in its original incarnation as manga and even in the 70s TV series; as far as I know the Imagawa remake is a straight-up retelling of the original manga (plus bits from Violence Jack because Imagawa) and the 70s had a lot of series that delved into the nature of morality and such. I can say that because I just finished Space Battleship Yamato finally!