by Dustin Kramer

As I sit here and try to think about what Masayuki Yoshihara’s The Eccentric Family has to say, I find myself profoundly inept at finding a fitting focal point for this introduction. It would be a disservice to say the 13-episode adaptation of Morimi Tomihiko’s novel is purely about the importance of family, because its scope feels so much wider than that. However, I hesitate to claim that its central themes examine the meaning of life itself, a concept so large and overdone that it implies pretension–something that this story truly has none of. But to denounce both of these examinations is equally dishonest, because this animated drama has plenty to say in each arena and much more.

The show begins with the voice of our protagonist, Yasaburou Shimogamo, narrating over images of himself running through the streets of Kyoto, Japan’s former capitol and a city known for its historic relevance. He enlightens the audience to the balance that is maintained by the city’s three intelligent species: tanuki, Japanese raccoon dogs mythologized in folklore as having the ability to transform; tengu, humanoid creatures with black wings and the power to fly; and humans, the only species seemingly unaware of the fantastic creatures with which they coexist. Yasaburou is a tanuki that seeks only the most joyous experiences in life, but he makes it clear that he isn’t interested in being a “mere tanuki.” He “admires tengu from afar and loves imitating humans,” hinting at a thread of cultural tolerance that runs through this piece.

The events of the narrative revolve around the death of Yasaburou’s father, Souichirou. Years prior, the tanuki patriarch had been killed and used as the main ingredient for a traditional dish called “hot pot” that the human fraternity known as the Friday Fellows indulge in at every New Year’s celebration. This sets the stage for every dramatic turn that we encounter throughout this journey, but each of the Shimogamo family members has already undergone major character changes in light of Souichirou’s untimely demise before the series even begins.

The mother of the four brothers attempts to step in to a more masculine role by literally dressing up as a prince. Yasaburou’s answer to his mother’s transformation is to become a feminine presence within the family via cross-dressing. The oldest of Yasaburou’s brothers, Yaichirou, has spent the time since his father’s death attempting to emulate the leadership and nobility that Souichirou exuded. Yajirou, the second oldest of the Shimagamo siblings, has lived life transformed into a frog and dwells at the bottom of a well, giving advice to any and all who drop a small donation into his dank abode. When it is later revealed that he was out drinking with his father on the night of his death, his retreat into doleful solitude is finally understood. The youngest of the bunch, Yashirou, has regressed into a childish state of arrested development whereas his brothers have sought some solace in early maturity. He is still quite young, but perhaps too young to be hiding in the shadow of his family’s elders as he does.

In their tanuki forms, the Shimogamo boys bear markings that reflect the four suits in a French deck of playing cards. The two elders, Yaichirou and Yajirou, are the spade and club respectively. The black color of these suits is representative of a darkness within these characters that their siblings don’t carry. Like a spade, Yaichirou is sharp and offensive. Yajirou’s club brings to mind the image of a clover, the diminutive plant’s natural color and shape mirroring that of his chosen amphibian form. Yasaburou and Yashirou, on the other hand, bear the red suits–a color that symbolizes warmth and zeal, something their older brothers have clearly lost. Yashirou is the heart, and he certainly has the most of it. Yasaburou’s diamond is the only shape with four sides, representing the centrality and connective nature of his character in relation to his three brothers and mother. Those who share a suit color exist as pairs. Yashirou seeks emotional refuge in Yasaburou over anyone else (except perhaps their mother), and Yaichirou’s strong empathetic reaction to the revelation that the guilt-stricken Yajirou may have been the last one to see their father alive suggests a much stronger bond between the characters–despite rarely communicating with one another–than the audience had been privy to up to that point.

The first half of the show occurs in a series of brief arcs detailing the relationships between the Shimogamo tanuki clan and their relatives (the Ebisugawas), an aging tengu professor named Akadama, and the largely clueless Friday Fellows. Akadama requests that Yasaburou summon Benten, a human woman to whom Akadama had previously taught the tengu’s signature skill of flight. Her uncommon power serves to blur the line between these hierarchical groups, strengthening the theme of cultural borderlessness. Yasaburou agrees to deliver Akadama’s letter, but he does so with trepidation. You see, Benten is member of the Friday Fellows, the mysterious organization that cooked and ate the young tanuki’s father years prior. It becomes clear that both Yasaburou and Akadama have feelings for the human woman. Once the rivalry between the Shimogamos and the the Ebisugawas is established, the show builds in the final half toward an election to determine who will lead the Kyoto tanuki community as the “Nise-emon,” a role that Souichirou was filling when he died. Yaichirou vies for the position against his uncle, Souun.

The Eccentric Family is a gorgeous piece of entertainment art and yet another bright spot in studio P.A. Works’ ever-growing portfolio of visually impressive projects. The backgrounds are so painstakingly detailed and given touches of realism that many of the studio’s peers would disregard as unnecessary minutia. They seem to be painted on a textured surface not unlike a watercolor block. The characters themselves are heavily stylized and drafted with straight, clean lines and solid blocks of color. This gives the entire presentation a very distinct visual flavor while serving another more practical goal — when the story calls for action, budget can be easily moved around to ensure that money goes where it needs to. More static scenes of dialogue can be trimmed without the animation quality appearing to have been affected. This works out well for the series, as a moment where a notable dip in aesthetics is rare.

I’ve twice mentioned the series’ interest in examining cultural tolerance and challenging the morality of tradition, so let’s dive in to that briefly. Despite tensions between the humans, tengu, and tanuki, they all make efforts to coexists peacefully. Furthermore, the fact that members of three different species–Yasaburou, Akadama, and one of the Friday Fellows–all fall in love with the human woman Benten speaks to the possibility of a world without borders. As an extension of this, the show seems to make some apologies for Japan’s own slow, quiet transitions into progressiveness. The non-human societies in the series are certainly aware that the Friday Fellows’ practice of eating tanuki is wrong, but everyone accepts it as a fact of life until tradition is contested and things change. With this, the writers ask that the world be patient with the island nation as it learns to compassionately approach longstanding, sinful ideals. The country really can’t claim a large number of loud social movements that pepper other comparatively younger countries’ histories. Instead, when it’s time to think a new way about something, social change just tends to happen–often from the top down, with the government passing new civil rights legislation before it even becomes a major issue among activists. A cursory glance at the Wikipedia pages for “Social Movements in America” and “Social Movements in Japan” is an eye-opening reminder that the Land of the Rising Sun just tends to “go with the flow,” which happens to be a piece of advice that Akadama gives Yaichiro in the final episode.

This anime is a fantasy set in the real world, but the real-world implications of murder are never really addressed. The show never paints Benten as a villain, despite her passiveness to the killing and eating of tanuki (and her active participation in the death of Souichirou in particular). She’s enigmatic but woefully incomplete and highlights an uncommon thematic void for the series. Additionally, although Yasaburou was engaged to his cousin, Kaisei (Yajirou was also in love with her), the show never addresses the topic of incest. The ancient practice of marrying relatives for political purposes is not foreign to the West, but in a show where themes of tradition-breaking are so prevalent, the absence of examination or commentary here is notable. As an aside, the relationship is never sexualized in any way, so it would be inaccurate to call it fan service–it’s definitely not that kind of show.

The last few episodes resolve the arcs of major and minor characters alike and prove to be one of the most satisfying endings of an anime series in recent memory. The variety of sociopolitical ideas the show tackles and the overwhelming rate of success at these attempts is laudable. If The Eccentric Family had only one thing to say, well, it wouldn’t be the thematically rich piece that it is. But if I had to try and nail down the “one thing” that the series is about, I think it wants to say something like this:

Don’t over-prepare for things that may not come to pass, take life one day at a time, enjoy it to the best of your ability, and never forget what’s important to you, no matter what it is.