The Magic of Animation

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The Magic of Animation

Postby Gerien » Wed May 10, 2006 8:42 pm

Tomorrow afternoon I'm handing in my final Anthropology paper. This one is for a Magic and Modernity class. I'd welcome any comments people care to offer.
Modern Western culture often draws distinctions between magical and modernist perspectives on the world, delineating mystery and fact as if they were discrete elements. Rationalist thought is, for most people today, the accepted paradigm through which to understand the world. Magical thinking is a part of history; it is the way we used to explain reality, before we knew the benefits of scientific thought. Yet magical thinking is not merely historical; it permeates the rational world, showing up especially clearly in a venue where we tend to dismiss it as meaningless, but in fact where its presence, and the moralism that inevitably goes with it, cannot be underestimated for their transformative powers: children’s animation. Either under the guise of simple fantasy or through the rubric of science fiction, children’s animation presents themes commonly found in tales of magic and witchcraft, disconnected from rationalism and objective thought, and full of moralizing discourses that rationalism cannot easily convey. A detailed examination and analysis of several examples of fantastic and futuristic animated offerings shows how magic is not only still present in the modern world, it is an invaluable tool in the indoctrination of our morals and beliefs in our young.

Much of anthropological and sociological theory has attempted to explain the purpose of magic within cultures through comparisons to both religion and science. These attempts generally demarcate magic, religion, and science as separate categories, each unique in its philosophical modality in explaining the surrounding world (Styers 6). The comparison to religion has often been disdainful of magic as a cultural practice, placing it in the role of “the bastard sister of religion” (Idowi 191). The effeminization of magic played a part in its modern portrayal as appropriate only to women and children, and helped distinguish it from the more masculine and respectable scientific method. More importantly, though, the association of magic and religion served to “play a central role in scholarly efforts to define the nature of religion and to demarcate its proper bounds” (Styers 6), thus bringing magic into the realm of morality. Within this framework, “magic has complete legitimacy in its own right as a system of discernment and meaning” (Gesch 137), a tool to be used in understanding the subjective self. Moving into this realm allowed magic to occupy a “middle ground between religion and…science” (Styers 6) and allowed science to move into the realm of the intellectual and objective, isolated from moral or religious concerns. Where science and rationalism became objective, magic and magical thinking became subjective. This shifting paradigm had a direct effect on the modern interpretation of magical thinking as simplistic or childish and suitable only to non-intellectual pursuits or moralizing stories.

Yet magic continued to survive next to scientific rationalism. Indeed, magical thinking and scientific rationalism have done more than coexist; they have at times been intertwined and supported each other. Isaac Newton, for example, believed in special revelation, the miraculous ability of God to reveal knowledge, and had no compunctions against giving the divinity credit for the truths he discovered about the laws of nature (Hexham and Poewe 146.) He also considered himself primarily an alchemist and attempted for years to turn lead into gold (Hauck). Newton’s use of magic as a tool clearly shows that magic and science were not always as easily distinguishable as we perceive them to be today. Nor are the narratives of magic gone from our world. As Erik Davis phrases it in his study of magic in the information age:

But the old phantasms and metaphysical longings did not exactly disappear. In many cases, they disguised themselves and went underground, worming their way into the cultural, psychological, and mythological motivations that form the foundations of the modern world (3).


Popular fiction, especially science fiction and fantasy, draws a direct link between the futuristic and evolutionary and the magical and fantastic. Ideas that would be laughed at in our rationalist society are wholeheartedly embraced in fantasy as potential reality, “because they ‘might’ be possible in the future” (Hexham and Poewe 84), or by extension in alternate realities or “fantastic” worlds. Recognizing that there is a paradigm which supports magical explanations for supposedly rational events is vital in an examination of science fiction and fantasy in the modern, rationalist world.

Animation allows us the opportunity to not only envision magical realities, but actually see them. Long relegated to the status of children’s entertainment, animation in fact serves as a powerful tool for entrenching belief systems and instilling moral values in its viewers. Animation is particularly suited to fantasy, the sister genre of science fiction, and serves to teach and propose moralistic paradigms in much the same way as has science fiction. Disney has always used animation as a means of expressing moralism through fantastic settings. Snow White, Disney’s first major animated fairy tale, was a veritable blueprint for the proper submissive path a woman should take in life if she wants to be successful (Wood). Magic was an inherent part of this growth, as seen in Snow White’s making a wish into a well for “the one I love to find me today” (Geis 34). Today, Disney continues this practice, but in slightly different forms and with slightly different messages. One of its more popular television shows is “W.I.T.C.H.,” a story about five teenage girls with the power to transform into elemental-type “guardians.” (The name is a double entendre rather than a direct reference, for the girls’ names are Will, Irma, Taranee, Cornelia, and Hay Lin.) Their purpose is to protect our world from the evil inhabitants of Moridian, a world behind “the veil” because of its dark nature. The theme song that opens each show (W.I.T.C.H. TV Series) immediately sets the stage for both magical and modernist themes of women’s empowerment.

We are...
We are...
We are...
W.I.T.C.H.!

We are...
We are...
W.I.T.C.H.

There is a place
Where darkness reigns,
We got the power to fight back!
We save the day, united five as one!
We can become more than you know.
The Heart will lead the way to what we can control!

Water, Fire, Earth, and Air!
Guardians, unite!

We are...
We are...
We are...
W.I.T.C.H.!


Unlike Snow White, the W.I.T.C.H. members are actively involved in changing their world for the better by embracing their power to control the elements. In an ironic nod to both Christianity and phallocentrism, their main adversary is a man with the ability to transform into a giant snake creature, and their main ally, while a very handsome young rebel, has no powers of his own.

The characters in the show are each classic moralistic stories in and of themselves. Each W.I.T.C.H. team member represents a different natural element, with the Heart the unifying force. What we see here is essentially humanity’s power to use magic as a dominating force through the imposition of will. The fact that they unite “five as one” to release those powers shows the valorization of community over solipsism, and a belief in the ability to control nature through the development of society. Each henshin sequence, the transformation scene that takes place in every episode (a common feature of Japanese anime and demonstrative here of its influence), allows the girls to become something more than human. By transforming, they embrace the power they have over the elements. These transformations demonstrates the separation western culture still tries to make between the “real,” rational world and the fantastic, magical one. It also symbolizes the magic of growing up, especially important to a young woman, and the power that comes with adulthood. It is interesting to note that they hide their powers from their friends and family (save the old grandmother who supports them, as she was a guardian herself). This implies a lack of understanding by even their closest advisors of what the girls are going through, a variation of the classic “they just don’t understand me” phase every teenager goes though. The concealment of magic also seems to say that although it can be a useful tool and have positive effects, in a modern, rationalist world it must still remain within the subjective and individualized realm of childhood, once again separating the magic of childhood from rational adulthood.

Not all children’s animation is so blatantly magical in its representations. Many even attempt to ameliorate their fantastic ideas by providing scientific explanations. One such example is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a long time staple of the animated world with at least two different television incarnations (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). These anthropomorphized “heroes on the half shell,” as their theme song describes them, started off as ordinary turtles, pets of a benevolent sensei and master swordsman. Their transformation into walking, talking, nunchuk-wielding ninja teenagers was the result of a radioactive ooze that gave them intelligence and the ability to walk on two legs. (And to eat enormous amounts of pizza. One wonders what the capitalist implications of this are.) Through intensive study with their sensei master (himself transformed into a giant rat) in their sewer home, they learn the martial and intellectual arts in an attempt to alleviate the evil deeds of their enemies. Even this broad overview of the show demonstrates the moralistic endeavors it attempts to make. They willingly obey their master, giving him respect for his age and his abilities, while showing disdain for their enemies. They take a Zen like attitude toward their training, striving to improve their skills and undertaking ever greater challenges as they grow. Even their names – Donatello, Michaelangelo, Leonardo, and Raphael – stress to the viewer the importance of recognizing the great intellectual and artistic leaders of Western civilization. Yet despite their obvious goodness, they, like the girls in W.I.T.C.H., must hide their true natures from the world.

Despite the pseudo-scientific overtones of the characters raison d’être, their inheritance of magical themes is apparent. Fabliaux, talking animals, have a long history within magical and mythical tales. The Norse god Odin’s ravens spoke to him of what they saw in the world (Auerbach and Simpson 33), the Sphinx of ancient Egypt is known for its famous deadly riddle (Allan and Maitland 35), and numerous folktales and legends are peopled by human-animal hybrids and creatures that lend their verbal support to the human protagonists. One example of beneficial fabliaux commonly omitted from modern versions of the story is in the Brothers Grimm version of Cinderella. In their tale, two doves watching the evil stepsisters ride off with the prince say, “Turn and peep, turn and peep, there's blood within the shoe, the shoe it is too small for her, the true bride waits for you” (Godwin-Jones). The fact that the creators of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles chose to make their characters benevolent rather than malicious simply stresses the concept that magic, or in this case accidental science, is a positive force in the world not to be feared despite its not being understood, and reinforces the moral implications of magical thinking.

Pokémon, that ubiquitous example of dumbed-down Japanese anime, seems at first glance to be nothing more than an attempt to get children to ask their parents to buy them toys. Yet the cartoon, despite its simplistic animation style and repetitive plots, reveals a surprising set of messages about the value of doing what is morally correct, as well as a connection to historic tales of witchcraft. Pokémon combines both scientific and naturalistic explanations for its storyline. The pokémon themselves appear to be common creatures, equivalent to various breeds of intelligent dogs. In addition, a majority of the pokémon evolve from gaining experience, transforming from their infant forms to fully developed adult creatures. Yet the interaction between pokémon and trainers is a technological one; trainers capture the pokémon using a pokéball and get their information from a pokédex, a type of portable computer. There are even pokémon training facilities and hospitals, staffed professionals trained in medical technology (Pokémon). Yet the magical provenance of this alleged technology is clear. The pokéball emits a beam of light that envelops the pokémon and traps them in a sphere the size of a tennis ball, regardless of the pokémon’s size. Furthermore, the pokémon’s evolution is not a natural, gradual one, but occurs almost instantaneously with an anime-appropriate flash of light. Yet the trainers take this in stride as natural to the technology involved, encouraging their creatures, and helping them to get stronger. While the obvious moral implication is to teach children responsibility and the rewards (trainers earn badges as their pokémon become strong enough to win battles) inherent in caring for others, a more subtle implication is also present. The pokémon are, in a sense, extensions of the trainers, and the better trainers are thought to connect more closely and even be able to communicate better with their pokémon.

The pokémon and their trainers bring to mind the witch’s familiar and her use of it as a means of generating or enhancing her own magic (Wilby 286). The variegated typology of the pokémon is reminiscent not only of the diversity of familiars a witch could have (although blacks cats are the best known, familiars could be toads, birds, donkeys, or even artificial (Grimassi 65, 188)), but also evocative of the multiplicity of fairies which populate old folktales, particularly the hobman, “communicative and indeed ‘familiar’ with human beings and [which] could be found living alone, or occasionally in small groups, either alongside humans in their houses or barns … or in the countryside” (Wilby 290). Whether housed at the pokémon training centers or hospitals or roaming the countryside evading capture, the pokémon indeed bear a striking resemblance to these creatures of magic and the occult.

One final example shows the incredible lengths to which a children’s animated series will go to include elements of magic and science as parts of its storyline. Kong: The Animated Series is the continuing animates story of King Kong, set initially back on his home of Kong Island. In this version of the ongoing saga of the giant ape, Kong has been genetically cloned and recreated by a Dr. Loma Jenkins with the implied help of “a collection of ancient, powerful objects called the Primal Stones” (Kong: The Animated Series). Dr. Loma’s grandson Jason befriends Kong while both are young, and later, with the help of what she calls a Cyberlink, Jason is able not only to communicate with Kong and his scientist grandmother, but also to merge the Cyberlink’s wearer with another creature on a genetic level, essentially combining the two into something greater than either individually. In the case of Kong and Jason, this means that Jason loses his body in joining with Kong, gaining Kong’s incredible and inhuman strength while sharing, and in some degree controlling, Kong’s simian mind. Jason does so with a distinct and moralistic purpose – to defend Kong and the other protagonists against the greedy and evil Dr. De La Porta, a man intent on stealing the Primal Stones and any other source of mystical power he can find, without regard for the consequences. (In the case of the Primal Stones, those consequences are indeed dire, as their removal will awaken Chiros, an evil demonic creature trapped by the stones on Kong Island.) Later the power is shifted, as Kong is reverse-merged into Jason’s body, allowing Jason to become Kong at any time and to keep Kong contained until their combined strength is needed.

To children watching the show, the message being sent is made abundantly clear; strength, in the service of doing good, is valuable, but only when tempered by both intelligence and sound moral judgment. It is almost a paradoxical message, for while the Kong/Jason hybrid clearly uses the same type of violence that De La Porta does (De La Porta also has a Cyberlink and combines with other creatures to transform into giant monsters), in Kong/Jason’s case the violence is condoned and even encouraged, for it is in the service of the moral majority intent on protecting the earth. The fact that Jason must use a technological device to accomplish this mystical union also sends a message to children. No longer is magic separate from science, for science can now recreate what previously had been only possible in folktales and stories of witches. Science, in this story, has superseded magic, while the morality of magic has been placed under the command of scientific rationalism and intelligent purpose.

While the show is full of examples of magic and mysticism from various cultures (one of Jason’s companions is a female shaman, and they often meet mystics from various cultures), the most obvious and constant allusion to traditional witchcraft is that of the shape shifting which best describes Jason and Kong’s shared existence. From Harry Potter’s godfather Sirius Black, an “animagus” who can transform himself into a large black dog (Rowling 371), to the underwater salmon people of the Tlingit peoples of the Northwest Coast, who shed their human skins to become fishable salmon upstream and then are reborn when their bones float back downstream (Lowenstein and Vitebsky 69), to the Kuranko of Sierra Leone, who believe completely in the existence of yelamafentigi – men who can transform into animals when no one else is around – shape shifting into animal form is a story as old and varied as the cultures of earth. For many of the ancient peoples of northern Europe and Asia, shape shifting was a means for Shaman to communicate with the spirit world (Sandwall). Through animal transformations, humans could gain the strength and wisdom of the animal world to improve their own lives. This version of shape shifting is apparent in the Kong series through Jason’s ability to stop the evil De La Porta by transforming into Kong.

Yet while Jason’s transformations are due to technology, shape shifting is often seen as an innate power. Among the Kuranko, “it is not a skill that can be learned of a gift that can be acquired” (Jackson 60). It is this distinction which sets shape shifters apart from common witches and gives them their shamanistic powers. While witches are often seen as evil, and their transformations into animals are based on nefarious purposes, the yelamafentigi “sometimes vaunt their powers and draw grudging admiration from those who know of them” (Jackson 59). Here the magician who can transform himself is not necessarily evil (though not necessarily good), but whose existence is often based upon some beneficial reason. The Kuyate, Wulare, and Togole and Tegere clans of the Kuranko, for example, all describe the existence of shape shifters among them as being due to the benevolent acts of animals in their tribes’ pasts (Jackson 64). This distinction is important, because a shape shifter with charitable intentions can be seen as a gain to a community as opposed to a threat, thus placing him in the role of supporter rather than scourge. Here again the morality of magic comes into play. Those who use their powers for the sake of the community are welcomed and admired, while those who use them for individual gain are feared and despised. In Kong: The Animated Series, this message is taken to a grandiose extreme, for Jason and Kong endeavor to save the entire world by traveling around it, Cyberlink in hand, to stop evil denizens from completing their duplicitous and self-seeking activities.

This last example brings forth the ultimate truth of both magic and science within modern society. Culture creates both magic and science, for it is the impressions we have of each which define how we use them and perceive their use. While magic and magical stories are obviously still present in our modern world, they have been relegated to a moralistic role, fulfilling a purpose for which rational, objective, unemotional scientific thinking is no longer considered appropriate. The fact that it is most often children’s stories which contain magical thinking reinforces the role of magic as moralistic, for children’s stories of any kind have long had the purpose of teaching values and beliefs. Yet studying them shows that they have the ability to teach more than just children. These tales of fantasy and wonder also teach us about ourselves and the way we view the world. We have done our best to distinguish magic and science into discrete realms, convincing ourselves that the two have nothing to do with each other. In reality, they are as combined today as they were in Newton’s time. They are two sides of the same coin, each an important part of our understanding of ourselves. We are creatures of magic and of science. Knowing that allows us to be complete human beings, at whatever age.
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Gerien
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