Hourou Musuko (known in English as Wandering Son), on the other hand, is something of a milestone in cinema and film on this touchy subject. This 2012 series is about Shuuchi Nitori, a shy middle school trans girl, and Yoshino Takatsuki, a tall and lanky, though attractive, tomboyish trans boy. Nitori struggles with personal as well as social acceptance of her gender identity throughout the series as she deals with the hardships of romantic relationships and retaining childhood friendships while growing up transgender.
The show deals with the topic of gender identity in a decidedly serious tone that avoids almost all the problems that plague similar works. Unlike western attempts, Hourou Musuko does not explicitly over-politicize itself and develops the personality and individuality of Nitori and Takatsuki far beyond their struggles with gender identity. This more personal focus adds an element of depth to the social and political commentary that the most overlty politicized western attempts could never hope for. After all, humans are political animals and issues of personal individuality and identity are never separable from the social and political context in which we exist. This fact is perhaps best typified by the issue of gender identity, a controversial political issue that is explicitly about personal individual expression. By focusing far more on the transgender characters personally as individuals rather than as transgender in a transphobic political context, Hourou Musoko achieves a level of political depth both because the audience personally sympathizes more deeply with Nitori and Takatsuki, adding to its value as sentimental education, and because it is able to better deal with the complexity of humans as social animals.
The series also deals with the issue from a far deeper, more obscure and academic perspective that rarely gets discussed in popular media. This perspective (and the perspective I sympathize with the most) on gender is known in queer theory as gender performativity. Gender performativity is most closely associated with the work of poststructuralist feminist Judith Butler, who throughout her work (though most specifically in her book Gender Trouble) has argued that gender may be likened to acting in theatrical work. In practice, our gender performance has the effect of reifying gender into something one can only have one “true” expression of, obscuring the unstable and complex nature of an individual’s gender act.
Gender performativity is most obviously hinted at through the continuous motif of Nitori’s work on theatrical performances in school, particularly “gender bender” plays in which the girls play the boys and the boys play the girl. At one point in the series, Nitori co-writes a version of Romeo and Juliet in which Romeo would rather become Juliet and Juliet would rather become Romeo, which acts as an expression of his and Takatsuki’s relationship. The whole series basically references itself through this play, very obviously emphasizing the performative nature of gender. The famous line “Wherefore art thou Romeo?” repeated several times throughout the series (though mistranslated in the English subtitles as “Why are you Romeo?”) becomes an expression of Nitori’s anxieties over her gender identity. The choice of Shakespearean theater as a vehicle for this motif is particularly interesting; after all, Shakespeare is a cultural legend in one of the most heteronormative and transphobic cultures around, yet the nature of theater in his time notoriously underminds traditional gender roles as all actors in female roles were male.
Though I could go on and on about this aspect of the series’ theme and I would like to write a more thorough analysis of gender performativity in this anime, that is outside the scope of this review and I am far from an expert on Judith Butler or feminist theory. Gender identity is not the only theme that is conveyed through this very simple, yet effective, plot. Also dealt with are typical fare in anime such as growing up, balancing individuality with healthy conformity to social expectations (an especially difficult topic in modern Japan as its historically collectivist culture has been challenged by interactions with western individualism since World War II), homosexuality, and the follies of youthful romance.
As intellectually engaging as Hourou Musuko’s plot is, it is not without its issues. The pacing is a little fast and uneven in certain places, particularly at the beginning where we are faced with an onslaught of new characters who are referred to by several different names, creating difficulty in knowing who’s who. The dialogue is occasionally contrived and some of the social situations are a bit rushed into to the point of being unbelievable (particularly Nitori’s interactions with Doi near the end). However, overall the story is reasonably well-executed and is both deeply touching and intellectually challenging.
The character development in this anime is arguably its best feature. Nitori and Takatsuki are loveable characters who are also very deep. Both are dynamic and well-written protagonists with a variety of very complex motivations and struggles who act as compelling foils to each other. The supporting cast of characters is equally well-written. Even when characters, at least the major ones, come off as cruel and transphobic to the protagonists, there is usually a deeper reason for their actions beyond simple transphobia: whether it’s Nitori’s sister (an aspiring model who wants to become the picture of feminine beauty who struggles with her own masculine traits and is envious of Nitori’s feminine beauty), Chiba (who is in love with Nitori and jealous of her relationship with Takatsuki so acts somewhat cruelly towards Takatsuki,) or Doi (who, it is strongly hinted, may be struggling with homosexuality). Not only are nearly all the characters engaging, believable, and well-written, their relationships with each other strengthen the depth of the show; a number of characters act as in Takatsuki’s circle of friends act as parallel characters to Nitori’s, and there are numerous foils throughout the entire series.
Artistically, Hourou Musoko excels far beyond your typical series. The animation struck me as odd at first with its high brightness, background sets that look like watercolors, minimalistic character designs, and heavy use of pastel colors. However, it works with the simple and sweet nature of the story and adds to the aesthetic atmosphere of the anime. The directing style is comparable with most of Makoto Shinkai’s wonderful films such as 5 Centimeters per Second or Mamoru’s Hasoda’s brilliant Wolf Children. There is an attention to detail in transition sequences, pillow shots, and camera angles that is rarely achieved in any style of film. Often, the focus will be on some minor detail that serves as a symbolic motif (such as Anna’s cell phone charm) during scenes of dialogue. It creates the relatable and charming vibe of a really good slice-of-life anime while having far more depth than most works of that genre.
The soundtrack, like most of the other features of this anime, is very simple yet highly effective. In very similar fashion to Tenomon’s work in Shinkai films, it mostly consistent of elegant, simple, and melancholy piano melodies that matches the emotion and atmosphere of the relevant scenes. The soundtrack accomplishes more, perhaps, in what it doesn’t do than what it does; there are extensive periods of silence or nothing but dialogue which remain intensely emotional. Even the lyrics and atmosphere of the closing song, with uber-kawaii matching animations of Nitori, contribute to the series. The voice acting is good but nothing to write home about as occasionally, especially in the case of Chiba and Mako, the parts are under-acted. Nonetheless, Asami Seto’s work as Takatsuki Kuosuko Hatakeyma as Nitori, and Yui Horie as Anna are very good performances and the voice acting overall is more than adequate.
The bottom line: Huroru Musoko is a deep, heartwarming, and phenomenally directed take on gender identity that should be viewed not only by anime fans, but anyone interested in LGBT rights as a thought-provoking work of art, anyone struggling with gender identity in their personal lives as a therapeutic and relatable story, or anyone who is opposed to trans rights as a work of sentimental education. It is particularly relevant here in America where recent issues of bathroom bills and transgender discrimination laws have dominated political discourse. I do not know how anyone could come out of this wonderful series without their perspective on gender identity deepened or changed. I now consider it my second favorite anime ever made and would recommend it to almost anyone.
Overview:
Plot: 8/10
Art: 9/10
Sound: 9/10
Character: 10/10
Enjoyment: 10/10
Overall: 9/10
