Can an otaku’s attempts to bring Japanese popular culture to another dimension result in anything but disaster?
What They Say
Shinichi’s mission is to bring “otaku culture” to this new world in order to facilitate effective commerce between the two worlds. As an expert in anime, light novels, manga, and dating sims, Shinichi is revered and admired in the new world, and an unexpectedly fulfilling real life awaits him!
Content: (please note that content portions of a review may contain spoilers)
As ridiculous as it might sound, Outbreak Company’s premise, that of a “thoroughbred otaku” working on behalf of the Japanese government to share otaku culture with another world, has the potential to be an interesting bit of social commentary. The series, based on a light novel by the author of Scrapped Princess, seems to be poking fun at, or at the very least, expanding upon the premises of the Japanese government’s own “Cool Japan” rhetoric.
The idea centers around the concept of “soft power” as coined by Joseph Nye. Soft power, as opposed to the hard power of militaries and economics, is the more persuasive face of diplomacy and cultural exchange. In Foreign Policy magazine, Douglas MacGray wrote an article about Japan’s “Gross National Cool” (and this was back in 2002, when anime actually seemed to have a chance of being authentically cool, outside of its own fanbase: think FLCL). In spite of Japan’s political and economic stagnation of what had been its lost decade, Japan seemed to have influence because its pop culture exports were so widely accepted. The Japanese government jumped on this idea as a way to increase Japan’s soft power, but its results, a decade later, haven’t been anything to celebrate. Many in the government seem to have no idea about what makes Japanese popular culture “cool”, which, I suppose, shouldn’t be that surprising to anyone who has ever seen a Japanese politician.
But here is where our anime comes in: One Shinichi responds to an ad that states “otaku wanted” and is faced with an examination on his knowledge of pop culture trivia. After scoring highly, he’s given an interview, where his shutting himself off as a hikkikomori, and his love confession’s rejection by his childhood friend are looked upon as evidence of his expertise. He’s then given a drugged cup of coffee, is knocked out, and then taken to another dimension, where he can work on behalf of the Japanese government to assist in the spread of culture.
In a convenient twist, this other dimension is reminiscent of the fantasy European-style kingdoms of, say, Scrapped Princess. With elves, maids and princesses all around him, Shinichi can’t help contain his excitement. He’s also pleased to see that his SDF bodyguard, herself a fujoshi, has large breasts as one of her character traits. So: If we have a light-novel based series, starring an everyman otaku character, surrounded by an attractive group of women (that one might even term a “harem”) with varying bust sizes, why do I expect that this show can be anything but a disaster of Dog and Scissors-sized proportions?
First of all, Shinichi appears to be part of the joke. The story is not narrated by him, and therefore the world is not forced to exist only through his interpretations. He makes the standard lewd remarks and references that one might expect, but the joke is not just the references themselves, but also the other characters’ reactions to them. When he speculates on the reason he has ended up in this strange, new, world, the fujoshi blankly asks him, “Oh, what is that from?” as though she knows he’s just reciting plot points from his otaku database. Even if it’s slight, the ability to laugh at otaku culture sets the best otaku shows apart from the very worst.
Second, the production values of the show are fairly high. Though I did not find the character designs initially that attractive (as they have the trendy kind of pointy chin that I wish would go away already), the almost watercolor look to the coloring and fluid animation set aside my initial misgivings. The world-building also seems to have a logic and depth to it, suggesting that there will be development outside the central harem, and into the world itself.
Finally, there are little touches to the writing that give me confidence. The otaku character is not given carte blanche to run his own show. Japanese government officials and the fujoshi herself act as checks on his power to control the narrative. The way the Japanese remove their translation rings before speaking in front of an otherworlder is an interesting touch that a lesser series would have overlooked. The irony in the conversation between Shinichi and his half-elf maid, where his excitement at her ears is misunderstood as disappointment in her lowly half-breed nature suggests a decent understanding of character in prose writing.
It’s faint praise, to be sure, but in a season where other shows squander their premises in the first episode, if not the first ten minutes, Outbreak Company remains a bright spot. It’s silly, yes, and it’s crude, but I’m willing to see what the show is willing to do with the ideas it engages.
In Summary
Outbreak Company starts with a premise that suggests a goofy sort of cleverness, and the first episode lives up to this. We’re introduced to our hero and his task to spread the love of anime throughout a whole new world. But we’re also introduced to a potential harem of love interests. There are reasons to expect promising things, and reasons to fear terrible cliche. For the time being, however, Outbreak Company at least deserves a chance.
Grade: B-
Streamed By: Crunchyroll
Review Equipment: Sony VAIO 17″ HD screen
