My Little Monster (となりの怪物くん, Sho Tsukikawa, 2018)

A wilfully self-contained high school girl falls for a big-hearted classmate, but struggles to understand that they are in essence fighting different battles in their parallel quests for acceptance. Adapted from the hit shojo manga by Robico, Sho Tsukikawa’s My Little Monster (となりの怪物くん, Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun) is in many ways a typical high school rom-com in which a repressed young woman begins to deal with her abandonment issues essentially by mothering a displaced young man whose “problematic” big-heartedness sees him regarded as a “monster” by a still conservative society. 

Opening with a flashback presumably set in the present day, an older Shizuku (Tao Tsuchiya) now wearing a lawyer’s pin listens wistfully to Kana Nishino’s 2010 hit Best Friend and reflects on a time when all she cared about was studying, rejecting all human connection. Until that is she met the titular “monster” Haru (Masaki Suda) and suddenly found herself surrounded by people. Haru, as we discover, got into a fight on the first day of school and never actually showed up for classes. Because Shizuku should have been his desk neighbour, the panicked teacher asks her to take the handouts etc to his home in the hope he’ll one day return. Shizuku has no interest in doing as the teacher has tasked her but fulfils her duty, only to unexpectedly encounter Haru who then decides they must be “friends” based on a primary school understanding that friends take each other notes and homework when one of them is sick. 

It turns out that Haru hasn’t been coming to school because it bothers him that everyone finds him scary because of his lack of impulse control. He desperately wants to make friends and thinks he has some in a trio of local boys but Shizuku can see right away that they are essentially bullying him for money and tries to explain that “real” friends don’t sponge off each other. Perhaps because of his innate kindness, Haru is completely guileless and sees the best in everyone unable to understand when he’s being taken advantage of. Despite herself, Shizuku begins to feel protective assuring Haru that he will one day be surrounded by people who understand him unwittingly echoing the words of his late aunt who was the only other person who’d ever rooted for him. Straightforward as ever, Haru immediately confesses his love and so their awkward high school romance begins. 

Shizuku, however, is still largely uninterested in love. She has devoted herself to studying and only cares about coming top in the school exams. As we discover this is less because of academic ambition than practical application. She studies hard and immediately sees results. It’s the sure thing, something which is completely within her own control, unlike other people’s feelings which are necessarily messy and unpredictable. There is however an uncomfortable conservatism in the centring of Shizuku’s trauma solely in the fact that her mother works outside the home and is therefore not present in her life in the way that mothers are expected to be in a patriarchal society while her family set up is regarded as unusual in that her father, having failed several times in business, is a househusband. 

Meanwhile, she remains fairly blinkered to Haru’s parallel familial disconnection in that he has apparently been disowned by his authoritarian father for his free-spirited ways. Taken to a birthday party held for Haru’s older brother Yuzan (Yuki Furukawa), Shizuku begins to realise there is a large class difference between them but reacts badly, confused that he is rejecting the very things she’s striving for in refusing to reconnect with his father, ignoring the fact that he has separated from him because he is essentially abusive. He refuses to let Haru be Haru, trying to straight-jacket him into conventionality by forcing him to clamp down on his noisy impulsivity, something which he seems unable to do even if he wanted to. Shizuku fails to realise the hurt she deals him in refusing to understand his reluctance, unable to see that it amounts to a rejection from the one person he assumed had completely accepted him. 

What she discovers is that you won’t always be forgiven for momentary thoughtlessness and in the end you have to let people be what they are, which throws into light the problematic “monster” of the title which is how Haru is often seen by others, a quality brought to vivid life in Suda’s manic performance. A rival suitor, Yamaken (Yuki Yamada), selling himself as the slow and steady candidate perhaps more suited to Shizuku in being more like herself, describes their relationship as a “make-believe friendship” rather than a real romance, something she has to accept may have a grain of truth in it in her inability to fully understand the person she claims to love, but nevertheless comes to the conclusion that while Yamaken may make her feel at ease in herself it’s the stressful stimulation with the intense yet passionate Haru that she truly craves. That aside, their romance is a fairly cool affair and its resolution too contrived to have any kind of impact which is perhaps why Tsukikawa resorts to anime-style imagery including a flying leap of love accompanied by bright sunshine flooding in from behind. Nevertheless, in true shojo fashion My Little Monster celebrates not only its heroine’s gradual path towards an embrace of the chaos of being alive, but also the power of friendship and acceptance as the gang find a place to belong in each other and with it a more concrete sense of self.


Singapore release trailer (English/Simplified Chinese subtitles)

Kana Nishino – Best Friend

Princess Jellyfish (海月姫, Taisuke Kawamura, 2014)

b7dec6a631e5ad87baf2ff601d6b4872Originating as an ongoing manga series by Akiko Higashimura which was also later adapted into a popular TV anime, Princess Jellyfish adopts a slightly unusual focus as it homes in on the sometimes underrepresented female otaku.

Tsukimi is an extremely awkward young woman who has an all encompassing obsession with jellyfish. Luckily for her, she’s managed to find a group of likeminded women of a similar age to room with. That is, they aren’t all as crazy about jellyfish as she is, but they all have their particular order of special interest, are fairly socially awkward with an extreme fear of “fashionable” women, and no formal form of employment. At the Amamizukan boarding house, the girls can all enjoy their otaku lives together (well, kind of separately) and, crucially there are no boys allowed!

However, one day Tsukimi finds herself at a crisis point when she notices one of the jellyfish she likes to visit at a nearby pet shop is in danger! The idiot shop boy has only gone and put a Moon Jelly in with a Spotted Jelly – does he just not know how dangerous that is?! Tsukimi will need to act fast to save her friend, but the guy behind the counter is a clueless pretty boy – absolutely the worst case scenario for Tsukimi. Despite her extreme anxiety she valiantly marches into the shop yet her confused mini lecture on jellyfish keeping only succeeds in convincing the shop boy that she’s some kind of nutcase. On being expelled from the shop, Tsukimi finds herself at the feet of an extremely glamorous looking woman who comes to her defence. What kind of strange parallel world is this? Tsukimi’s universe is about to undergo a sea change!

Though based on a manga and intended as a comedy, crucially, Princess Jellyfish casts its series of “different” heroines (and hero) in a favourable light – they are never the butt of the joke and sympathy is always placed with those who experience difficulty in their lives because they feel themselves to be different. Each of the girls is so deeply involved in their own particular obsession that they find it difficult to fit into the regular world and particularly to cope with conventional femininity. Tsukimi herself finds it particularly difficult to talk to men and the fact that no men are permitted at Amamizukan makes it clear that she is not alone in her fears.

This brings us to her new friend who is apparently a fashionable young woman – the sort who would never usually be seen dead talking to the likes of Tsukimi. However, this one not only acknowledges Tsukimi’s presence as another human of equal standing, but even lends her confidence and power as an attractive woman to Tsukimi’s predicament. There is, of course, more to this mysterious saviour than there might seem at first sight. In addition to being a fabulously well dressed lady, Kuronosuke is also a boy. This is something of a problem for Tsukimi as she only realises after letting him stay over at the strictly no boys allowed residence. The ruse also has to be maintained a little longer when Kuronosuke decides to stick around, eventually becoming known as “Kuroko”.

The situation intensifies as the girls’ secret haven comes under threat when a gang of ruthless developers want to buy up most of the town and redevelop the area. The group home is owned by one of the girl’s mothers who is also an otaku only her obsession is with top Korean actor Lee Byung-hun and she’s skipped off to Korea to be able to stalk him better. There’s no telling what she might do if it brings her closer to the object of her affections and things are looking a little desperate. Eventually a possible solution is found which plays to everyone’s strengths and offers the faintest glimmers of hope for the girls (and boy!) of Amamizukan.

Princess Jellyfish is the ultimate tale of acceptance, both in personal and societal terms. The residents of Amamizukan may be a little different, but that doesn’t mean they have nothing to offer the world and there’s no need for themselves to maintain a position of self imposed exile if the only reason is a belief in their own inferiority. This is a lesson taught to them by the exuberant rich boy and politician’s son with a traumatic past of his own, Kuronosuke. Truly unafraid to be who he is, Kuronosuke teaches the girl’s that almost any obstacle can be overcome with a combination of forthrightness and sincerity.

Though it runs a little long and gives in to some very over the top performances and melodramatic plotting, Princess Jellyfish is an enjoyably offbeat manga inspired tale. Very much not interested in demonising anyone other than those who seek to suppress individuality, it’s a cheerful celebration of the value to be found in difference offering plenty of laughter and warmth along the way. Perhaps not for those who prefer their cinematic experiences on the subtle side, Princess Jellyfish is nevertheless a fun filled film which carries its message of universal acceptance right into the closing credits.


The anime adaptation of this is actually really fun too.