Ramble: On Ranma 1/2

I suspect the Venn diagram of those who like stories like Constant (and maybe TG fiction in general?) overlaps with those who enjoy anime and manga. It’s not a perfect match, obviously. But as anime has moved into the mainstream over the past few decades, I wonder whether it’s introduced many young, impressionable minds to a range of themes not as openly explored in western media.

My earliest memories of anime predated knowing these cartoons were foreign: things like Gatchaman (or Battle of the Planets) and Goldorak (UFO Robo Grendizer) and then, of course, Robotech. Eventually, I discovered Akira: the first time watching it, I got hammered and couldn’t make any sense of the ending; next time I watched it sober, and still didn’t understand what the hell was going on. But dear God, the animation was gorgeous.

It was at university that I really discovered anime. This was before it went mainstream, and the main source was dodgy little shops—usually connected to comic book stores—that rented knock-off copies, often with dodgy subs or dubs. I discovered Record of Lodoss War, various Macrosses, others I can’t remember as they started to blur together. There was Sailor Moon and Dragonball—these broke through into the mainstream.

And there was Ranma ½.

Rumiko Takahashi’s classic has kind of faded from popularity, and I doubt the recent Netflix remake will bring it back. I loved it, back in the day, though looking back I can’t deny it’s a funny old story. The gender-bender element must’ve been what brought it to my attention at first. If you don’t know the story, it’s about a cocky sixteen-year-old martial artist named Ranma, who transforms into a girl whenever splashed with cold water; hot water changes him back. His dad transforms into a panda, and his various rivals into a pig, duck or cat.

It's very silly stuff. It’s also—at least the first series—brilliantly written. Ranma’s primary love interest, Akane Tendo, and her sisters are quickly and deftly presented to the audience. The teenage soap opera of those initial episodes is great fun. One by one, lunatic characters are introduced: Tatewaki Kuno, his sister the Black Rose, Ryoga the perpetually lost rival. Episode by episode, the martial arts mayhem escalates. Episode one, Ranma and Akane spar in the dojo; by the end of the final volume, Ranma’s battling a demi-god. All this, set against a remarkably well-drawn, mundane background of a Tokyo suburb: canals, high schools, ramen shops and suburban homes.

Through it all, the gender-bender stuff is there for titillating fun—quite literally, as Ranma often finds himself female and running around topless. It’s never a serious exploration of gender roles in Japan, for instance, and yet sometimes it still lands a solid blow: his first kiss is at the hands of a boy, a martial artist skater, and the shame of it is palpable. There’s a side-plot involving his mom that could easily turn tragic—she’ll force him to commit suicide if she discovers his gender-bending curse, due to a promise his father made—but the series always keeps it farcical. And over time, his familiarity with femininity grows. With clothes: first, a gymnastics leotard; eventually dresses and bras, a bikini, even a corset as a consequence of another insane martial challenge. He’s quick to exploit his femininity if it gets him freebies at a shop, or an advantage over an opponent.

I don’t know if the series ever quite lived up to the promise of its initial run. There’s a real sense of progress in those first episodes of the relationship between the main two characters drawing closer together despite (or because) teenage obstinance and insecurity—but thirty-six volumes later, they’re pretty much still in the same place. Along the way, it becomes a bit of a harem anime—a term I only recently realized was a thing—as more and more girls queue up for Ranma’s affection, and rivals for Akane’s show up, too.

So how was any of this influential?

I don’t think I realised this until I started watching the Netflix remake, but there’s more than a little Ranma Saotome to David Saunders. There’s the martial arts, obviously, the stubbornness and cockiness, arrogance and yet inexplicable allure to the ladies. There’s even the gender swap. David’s half-Japanese, too, an easily missed detail introduced in early chapters. You can imagine Ranma all grown up, becoming increasingly misogynistic over the years perhaps as a consequence of losing the love of his life. Settled down, but still yearning for the good fights of his youth. Miserable in adulthood, until a final adventure forces a reckoning and new outlook in life.

I don’t know. By the time I started Constant, I’d long moved on from Ranma ½ and anime in general. (Though I still love me a good Studi Ghibli movie, or outstanding films like Your Name.) It’s just seeing it on Netflix again that’s brought about this ramble. If you haven’t seen it before, it’s an easy recommend. The remake is really well done. I don’t consider myself generally very nostalgia prone, but rediscovering the series, especially these first episodes, has been a lot of fun. It’s a pity later series don’t quite live up to the same standard.

(With a few standout moments in later episodes, like when he discovers his Chestnut Fist, or Dragon Heaven Blast, or the hilarious Cat-Fist. There’s the episode where he gets knocked on the noggin and forgets he’s a boy (anime only) or the sequence in which he’s robbed of his strength.)

So, yeah. If you’ve never checked out Ranma before, give it a try—and see if maybe you can spot a little of the titular character in our David Saunders.