mDuo13

Ah, where shall I begin? Certainly not with a trite apology for not updating my blog in so long; the only one who suffers from that is me anyway. Doesn't matter whether it's because I got roped into that Twitter thing or that I've been working too much, the truth is that I made something of a fool of myself by not updating (after promising to review Saki soon, among other things) and I have to move on. So I'll spare you the details of why I felt like writing this entry (I'm not sure anyway) or the context in which I started writing it, by hand in a notebook waiting for the train to depart for work. You aren't here for those details, or at least I hope not because they're rather mundane, and I expect more from my readers. Actually, no, that's a lie, because it assumes I have readers. In any case, before I go breaking more promises, let me forewarn you that, while this is a review of Strawberry Panic, it doesn't follow the structured review format I've been using for the past several years. I won't explain what prompted me to experiment this way, but I should explain what prompted me to watch Strawberry Panic, although it is also somewhat mundane. Simply put, my friend David recommended it, and eventually I hit upon the mood and circumstances to start watching.

But that simple version leaves out the most important parts of this story: First, and foremost, David is perhaps the only one amongst my close friends who really shares my particular affection for the shoujo-ai genre, which (for those of you who don't speak weeaboo) focuses on love between girls. I have long thought, for reasons never fully established, that there is an unmistakable beauty in all-girl romantic relationships. [For those of you still reading this, hoping to get a good sense of whether to watch Strawberry Panic, that's your warning that I am not an entirely unbiased person and your opinion on the show may vary more than usual here.] Anyway, being as Strawberry Panic is exclusively about (in many cases, literally) girl-on-girl relationships, an almost consciously low-brow retelling of Maria-sama ga Miteru, then it seemed likely to suit my tastes, and, to make a long story short, it did.

I suppose that before I blather further, I should give you some idea of what the story is about. Strawberry Panic centers on a trio of interconnected girls' schools at the top of a hill, which share a dormitory named for its vaguely strawberry shape — and that's as much insight into the name as I've been able to achieve having watching. The protagonist, Aoi Nagisa, transfers to one of those schools, Miator, in her first year of high school, which makes her a fourth-year-student by Miator's middle-plus-high system. Nagisa immediately catches the eye of several girls at the school, including the Étoile, Hanazono Shizuma, a sort of student body representative whose job is to preside over inter-school events. However, Nagisa's roommate Suzumi Tamao and her neighbors in the dorm have other ideas, and budding romances of their own.

At this point I resume writing after paying the dues of my 8-hour workday, and observe that the Caltrain I'm on just barely outpaces the Light Rail running parallel to it. I'm not entirely sure at what point I left off, but the name Nagisa catches my eye on the previous page. Some time ago, I was head-over-heels for a girl named Nagisa, though she was of a different series. I'm still quite fond of her, and so it was something of an amusing coincidence that the similarly-named protagonist of Strawberry Panic, shares the same voice, that of the perennially appealing Nakahara Mai. She's as pleasant-sounding as ever in the series, although that brings me to another talking point in regard to the series: the ending sequence, which is performed (musically and visually) by Nakahara Mai in cooperation with Shimizu Ai, who provides the voice of Tamao. The two ending sequences, actually, are easily the low point of the series for me, because, let's face it, seiyuu are famous for their voices, not their looks, and no amount of dressing fancy and pretending to be lesbian for one another is going to cover for the jarring, unpleasant transition from idealized animated characters to film of the voice actresses representing them, who cannot reasonably compare. Consequently, I skipped the ending themes more often than not, and can't fairly evaluate the quality of the music itself — though as a theme starring two lead seiyuu of a fanservicey show, you can probably be safe not to get your hopes up.

And yes, Strawberry Panic is fanservicey. Expect a whole host of the typical factors: excessive shower scenes, the willing ignorance of physics, and improbable behavior arranged so the next-episode previews can give you just the wrong impression. As a matter of fact, improbable behavior is a central conceit of Strawberry Panic. If you can't stretch your willing suspension of disbelief to match the show's high demands, you'll spend all your time distractedly wondering why romantic, physical lesbian relationships are taken for granted, or what the implications are for the fact that this is a vaguely Catholic school, or why the school staff are so extravagantly elusive. This is a show in which seduction quickly devolves into what is basically attempted rape and no one even thinks to report the perpetrator to the administration even after repeat offenses.

Consequently, the depth of internal conflict and the skillful way the show maintains suspense until the final moments both come as something of a surprise. But it's true: if you accept the conditions of parlay, Strawberry Panic brings a pretty legitimate plot to the table. A wide cast of cute, likable, albeit not always especially deep characters embark on a consistently enjoyable series of subplots ranging from the fanciful journey of a loaned umbrella to serious internal conflicts the like of which I daren't describe for fear of spoiling. Perhaps most pleasantly, Strawberry Panic is expertly structured so that the later parts and the ending, clearly planned from the beginning, influence the rest of the story without giving themselves away.

However, the thing that convinced me most in the quality of Strawberry Panic was not something that happened in the course of the series at all. On the contrary, it was after the series was over, when I felt a dull malaise over my mood the next day, that I realized how much I had become invested into the world of Strawberry Panic. Not many shows give me that feeling of loss at my inability to continue in stride with them, that powerful mood that demands reflection and introspection, and the fact that Strawberry Panic also prompted such feelings puts it in good company. The series blatantly eschews any attempt to be literary, yet to me it feels like it somehow in the process of doing so, it accomplished exactly that. Is Strawberry Panic a good show? It demands a certain state of mind and an audience who can accept its commonplace flaws, but to that audience, Strawberry Panic becomes a show that won't soon be forgotten.