If you’ve been around the blog a little, you might have an inkling of how I feel about message fiction.
Now, I’m no enemy of messages in fiction. Some of the true all-time greats in anime, as well as genre fiction in general have had, if not a dedicated message they were trying to get out, at least a distinctly message-like slant to their existences. These are pieces that know the best way to convey the message is to let the fiction shine, delivering a compelling story with interesting characters colored by the lens through which the world is seen in order to communicate on a deep level. In some cases you might not even realize you’re looking at message fiction until you find yourself introspecting on the topics of what you just watched or read.
But then you get the other and all too common sort of message fiction, that sees the fiction as the vehicle for the message, that treats the viewing experience as a school lecture, and the author is the “teacher” attempting to hammer some lesson home to students because it will be on the final exam. These can come in many forms from the obnoxiously preachy to the hopelessly saccharine to the “scare ’em straight” comical absolutism of hellfire preachers and those annoying D.A.R.E. rallies that most Americans my age had to sit through.
I don’t hate message fiction absolutely. But I do hate when the message decides to stretch the fiction on the rack until its limbs look like something Junji Ito would have night terrors of, ties the writhing and tormented fiction into knots to hold millstones of judgmental morality in place, rides the fiction and its millstones down a hill of broken Aesop summations like some stone-wheeled go-kart, and cheers at its first place finish over a field of inanimate straw men while the tortured fiction unmercifully expires beneath the weight of the message’s arrogant grandstanding. When message fiction is bad, it’s pretty much the worst, and it doesn’t matter what the message actually is.
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