Farewell Zac Bertschy, You Will Be Missed

Zac Bertschy is the reason this blog exists. He's the reason my old blog exists. He's the reason I was able to score a gig writing for My Anime List a few years ago. In case you couldn't tell, my style unabashedly takes notes from him. His written reviews and preview guides were always so fun, personable and engaging to read and I knew that's how I wanted to write too. Zac was a damn good writer, on top of all the other contributions he brought to anime fandom. And now that he's gone I'm fucking numb. I've cried several times over the past few days.

I first came across Zac's work through the ANNCast "Revenge of the 00's" Episodes. I was pretty new to anime at that time and was looking for shows to watch. I was already a fan of Jacob Chapman's, through his prior work at the site that shall not be named and his appearance is what led me to the podcast. Many of my favorite shows of all-time came from my first introduction to Zac, like Wolf's Rain and Revolutionary Girl Utena. Many of my current favorites are also because of Zac, like Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! and Ready or Not. I became a loyal listener of ANNCast from that moment on and always looked forward to Zac's written reviews.

Zac was pretty much the main catalyst for me starting to try my hand at media criticism. However, he also had this amazing ability to seep into your mind. His combination of childlike awe and dry, sardonic humor create this effect to where you subconsciously try to pinpoint what Zac's take on a particular show or movie would be. This is undoubtedly because Zac burned with a passion for the beauty of art more than anyone else I can think of. He breathed his passions and unashamedly professed his love for the stuff that makes life meaningful. Indeed, much of the way I view and critique media is uncontrollably influenced by how Zac saw things. Not only that, but how I view life. Zac told me that it's okay to wear your passions on your sleeve and be unashamed about what you enjoy.

At the same time, he did this with an unflinching dedication to being a morally and socially responsible human being. He may not have seen himself this way, but Zac was an incredibly professional and respectable person who influenced and inspired many. His bravery in allowing ANN to tackle the Vic Mignogna story, calling out bigotry and generally gross shit in both shows and fandom, even when it meant virulent backlash, it all speaks to one of his central characteristics: Zac had a genuine and vocal empathy for others, especially of marginalized communities. Empathy was something Zac never seemed to lack, it was an unmovable part of his DNA.

I briefly met Zac, Jacob and Mike Toole at Otakon 2013, where I asked him a question at the live ANNCast taping and hung around for a bit after to chat. He gave me and all the other folks who asked questions some truly dreadful crap he was trying to offload. I got a couple random gaming magazines from the early 00's. Thanks. The audio was lost from that taping, but the memory still carries with me as one of my favorite moments of my fandom. I saw him and Jacob walking through the halls of the Baltimore Convention Center the next day, but was too shy to re-introduce myself. I also couldn't muster the courage to say hi at Otakon 2017, my first attendance after actually moving to the area. I often partook in the CYS streams as "Moonchild" (after the Iron Maiden song, which I'm sure Zac would also appreciate). I'm kicking myself now for my shyness and social awkwardness and not fully participating in the community or telling him that he influenced me. He'll never know just how much his contributions to this world meant.

It's really fucking tough to hear about the demons Zac was battling. His Black Mass blog was a creation of incredible bravery and I could really relate to a lot of what he wrote about. Once you've had crippling depression, that darkness is always looming below the surface. Every day is a battle to keep it at bay and sometimes it just becomes too powerful. It hurts to know that's what happened. It hurts because I, and many others, know what it feels like to be there and I just wish Zac knew he wasn't alone. But you're brain doesn't think like that when you're in the pits of its darkness. Knowing that he was going through that torment, I truly just hope he was able to find peace. It's not much for solace, but it does bring me joy to think that he's kicking it with Roger Ebert and Jim Henson right now, roasting The Love Guru. Take it easy breezy on the other side.

"In peace now rest

The weight of the world is off your chest"

Promethea (Issues 1-12)

Promethea has the potential to be Alan Moore's finest work. Is it though? After digging through the first volume of Vertigo's new reissues, I have to say, not quite. The fantasy context and incorporation of myth and occultism appeals directly to my taste and make the book's shortcomings that much more disappointing. Alan Moore is my actual father, however, so I'm definitely going to keep reading through the rest of the series as the hardcovers come out and see how things progress.

Chapters 1-3 are very infodumpy and are an alienating start to the series. There's a lot of expository set up and the whole concept is hard to wrap your head around (in typical Moore fashion). To give you an idea, the series starts with a piece of prose detailing the fake history of the titular character from her (non) inception in the 1700's. This history is entirely an invention of Moore's to give a fictional context of how the character has been interpreted in the world of the comic. Really cool and inventive when you think about it, but tough to sink your teeth into.

Chapters 4-9 are where this book really hits it stride. This is where the story is the most character focused, letting Sophie's emotional journey take precedence over the complexity of the plot. Here is where we get the most development of the hinted at lesbian romance between Sophie and Stacia. The relationship between these two and the subtext (sometimes main text) of their queerness is the best part of the comic. Issue 4 begins with the two of them waking up next to each other in bed and after realizing their position, derisively calling each other "an enormous lesbo." There's so much good stuff here. The repression of homosexuality leading to self-deprecation and hostility, especially in a fantasy context, is unique and compelling drama. Unfortunately, even in its best chapters, Moore seems reticent to bring their relationship to the forefront and develop it fully. There is certainly room for fanficcers to resolve the classic queer anger the series provokes – "why can't they just fuck already!" But more than that, the backseat the emotional content of this relationship takes in service of the story leaves me wanting mo(o)re.

In what is probably my favorite chapter so far, Issue 5, Sophie is brought under the wing of one of Promethea's former incarnations. This version, Margaret, brings Sophie through World War I and details how soldiers used the character as a vehicle for their imagination in the trenches. This issue is not only tightly written, it is a thought-provoking treatise on fantasy fiction as a tool for the imagination. The backdrop of the war shows us that fantasy can be used to imagine a world beyond capitalist realism. To quote Moore, "fantasy... is a way to look at the real world through a lens." In this framing, Promethea embodies the greatest potential that fantasy has to offer, a pseudo-psychedelic experience that broadens our imaginations to envision a better world beyond the constrains of hierarchy and domination.

Chapter 6 continues Moore's meta-textual commentary of fantasy and spits in the face of all the cynical critics who misunderstand his work as not being feminist. The incarnation of Promethea, Grace Brannagh, Sophie meets here, teaches her strength while adventuring through a Howard-esque fantasy kingdom. The environment changes around them at the dictation of Grace's pulpy authors. Despite their penchant for "misogynistic bondage scenes," Sophie and Grace are able to use the fantasy environment to their advantage and reduce the authors into powerless heads. The implications are pretty obvious, but no less interesting: despite a troubled history of misogynistic writing, antifeminism is not an inherent trait of fantasy fiction and the genre can be absolved from it. Moore is performing his own absolution through Promethea.

Chapter 7 is another favorite of mine, an absolutely bonkers ride through cheesy experimentation and a near tear-jerker. This issue uses live-action photography to entrance us into "the path connecting matter and imagination." The photos are really hokey and Promethea's outfit looks like the cheapest Xena costume Halloween stores sold in the 90's, but I kind of love it. I admire the experimentation and think the blurring of lines between medium specificity is awesome.This version of Promethea, William Woolcott, was a comics artist who drew Promethea in the world of the story. Bill fell in love with another man, Dennis Drucker, while transformed as Promethea, hiding his real identity until they had already been romantically involved. When Dennis finds out Promethea is actually a man, he murders Bill with a bullet through the head. This story made my mouth drop when I first read it. It's so poignant and again touches on the theme of repressed homosexuality leading to hostility that reflects Sophie's relationship with Stacia. This chapter is unfortunately where Moore's expression of that theme ends, at least for this volume.

I don't know if I've ever seen a series absolutely kill my interest in one issue the way Promethea seems to have done with Issue 10. Earlier on, the character of Jack Faust tells Sophie that he will teach her the depths and inner workings of magic if she sleeps with him. This is played as a tasteless joke and I really didn't think much of it when reading this scene. However, Chapter 9 ends with Sophie turning up at Jack Faust's saying, "okay." Issue 10 is little more than the author trying to recreate one of his greatest hits, the psychedelic sex scene from his run on Swamp Thing. There's a bunch of weird art, references to mythology and abstract conceptions of sex Moore uses to portray Faust and Promethea doing it, but I just don't care. It's fucking gross. Sophie's age is never explicitly revealed, but she looks really young. She's a college student, so presumably of age, but she's drawn to look much younger and Faust is depicted as a withering old man. Despite ham-fistedly decrying the misogyny of fantasy fiction in Issue 6, Moore devolves into the author who doesn't understand women's issues that critics accuse him of. This one issues robs Sophie of all her previously triumphant agency and strength, caving into not only to patriarchal pressure, but a fuckin' creep.

The two issues that close out this edition do nothing to resolve how vile Chapter 10 is. There's a lackluster send-up of 50's sci-fi films in #11 and a prosaic description of every single Tarot card to make up Issue 12. The latter of which's text is so exhausting and uninteresting that I couldn't bring myself to read all of it and just skimmed the art and Sophie's dialogue until I could finally close this thing.

The ups and downs of the story are compounded by art of fluctuating quality. J.H. Williams III's illustrations are never bad, the problem is that the panels are so damn busy. There are exceptions, like in Chapter 5, but more often than not, I don't know where to look after flipping the page. Much like the writing. the panel layout is highly experimental. This approach sometimes results in interesting ideas, but often just comes across like a mess. The messy layout is never helped by Moore's exceptionally proliferate dialogue panels and thought bubbles, which further clutter the page.

Alan Moore is probably my favorite writer ever, which is why my loves and hates for Promethea are both so strong. Conceptually, and in its most finely written moments, Promethea can be some of my favorite stuff ever penned by Moore. At its worst, it's hard to follow (visually and intellectually) and plays into misogynistic pinnings that I know the author is better than. There's still two more volumes and 24 issues to go and I plan on reading all of them. Hopefully, the "messiah of comics" will pull it all together.

Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

When Kurt Cobain said that all movies about making music sucked (except Spinal Tap), he was right. Although I have a soft spot for movies like Almost Famous and School of Rock, I would never say that they accurately portray the realities of being an artist. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! is the best thing about making a thing ever made, succeeding even Adaptation. and Inside Llewyn Davis. The reason so many movies/shows/books/etc... about the artistic process fall short is because they're not like Eizouken!, and even the most successful portrayals are not nearly as fun. I've watched this whole show twice already and will continue to revisit it for the rest of my life.

Throughout both my viewings, I consistently found myself having to take screencaps of the most resonant dialogue about artistry I've ever heard. What exactly about its portrayal makes it so effective? Eizouken! expresses the realities of creating art under capitalism without ever endorsing that mode of production. Not only does it show the conflicts, deadlines and inhibitions on creativity that result from the profit-motive being the determining factor of all art, it shows us that the labor of art is valuable.

This conflict is embodied boldly in the character of Kanamori. I haven't had an anime crush in many years, but goddamn, let me admit that I am now hopelessly in love with Kanamori-san. Although she might ostensibly seem to be the show's representation of the cold-blooded capitalist producer, she's actually sort of a leftist. In the first episode we hear her say: "Why, Asakusa, did you expect to get my labor without compensation?" Later on she says, "Pay exists to ensure a quality standard for labor." Although she shows no hesitation when it comes to conniving or scheming to advance the prospects of the Film Club, she does so from a belief that their labor has value and that they are entitled to create free from exploitation. On the one hand, Kanamori's perspective is bleak when she suggests that "given the situation we were in" there is no "alternative" to capitalist realism. On the other, she is an incredibly inspirational tough-loving hand that tells us artists are entitled to a life of dignity and to create the best life for yourself you can given the hopeless "boot stamping on a human face forever" of capitalism's persistence.

The show doesn't offer the prospect of a revolution, but who's to say its wrong for that? Early on we see The Boiled Tofu Club call for the Carbohydrate Revolution in the face of the fascist tendencies of the Security Club. Their appeal is quickly shut down by the bureaucratic authority of the Student Council. Later on, Mizusaki poses the question, "wouldn't not having to worry about money and just making anime be the best?" To which Kanamori answers, "Absolutely not!" Eizouken! pulls no punches in showing how far from liberation the artistic process is under a capitalist system, but it also tells us not to wait around for the rev. Given the failed history of left revolutions across the globe, I'm inclined to agree with the show's perspective here when I'm at my most blackpilled (i.e. right now). To quote Lindsay Ellis, "existing in a system is not the same as endorsing it."

Anime comedy doesn't really work for me. Although there are many series with comedic elements that I love, I often find the humor to be distracting, tonally inconsistent and just not funny. Nearly every damn episode of Eizouken! has at least a few moments where I was genuinely in hysterics. The comedy just feels natural with this one, like jokes the characters would actually make, not the writers. The over-stylized deadpan face, a staple of anime humor, is not overused and only appears at the most precisely timed moments, to where it's genuinely funny anytime we see the characters's faces like this...

Similarly, I think most anime openings kinda suck. I find that they often have atrociously over-produced music that doesn't fit the tone of the show and are better off skipped. Although it just wrapped, I feel confident in saying Eizouken! undoubtedly has one of the best OPs of all-time. "Easy Breezy" is just so damn irresistible and the animation is so much fun. A screenshot of Kanamori getting down with the groove is currently my phone background.

Despite the weightiness of the themes, Eizouken! is always tremendously light-hearted and fun. Many of my favorite shows, like Cowboy Bebop, are my favorites because they instantaneously transport me to the world and make me feeling like I'm hanging out with the characters. I feel like I'm on the Bebop, chilling with Spike, Jet and Faye, just trying to scrape by with the next bounty. Eizouken! gives me the same feelling. I'm right in there creating anime with my best buds (or lover) Kanamori, Asakusa and Mizusaki. I can't really think of any criticisms to direct at this show and it will continue to live on in my heart and on my screen until the end of my days.