I have each season of the Monogatari series rated as a bona fide 10 out of 10.
To those who have undergone the journey that is Nisioisin’s brainchild, this declaration
is at the very least contentious, and many would consider it preposterous.
I can hear the frantic typing already, “Nise is fanservice-laden and lower in quality,”
“Mayoi Hell is pure exposition,” “Shinobu Time is mediocre!”
And what may surprise you is that I don’t entirely disagree.
However, the way that Monogatari is structured results in an end-product wherein each segment
is propped with the support of the others—often feeding into itself—and this informs almost
everything about the series.
From the plot, to character development, to even how the viewer themselves interface with
it; Monogatari is in part defined by its unconventional elements, and how they come together to elevate
the work as a whole.
A common phenomenon you might discover watching the series, or even watching someone else
experience it for the first time, is that enjoyment of seasons *already watched* tends
to go up as you progress.
This is a testament to certain practices Monogatari employs spectacularly to support the franchise,
namely: unreliability, self-allusion, and interwovenness.
Monogatari will consistently lie to its viewer, whether it be about the veracity of the narrator
or the importance of certain events, and it is up to the audience to evaluate the show
based upon their own understanding.
This laissez-faire attitude creates an utterly unique experience not displayed in many other
shows, most of which is the capacity for those moments of anagnorisis, or aha! moments, that
hinge on the show presenting lies of omission.
What this ends up leading up to is the Monogatari series being more than the sum of its parts,
with its curious chronological order and purposeful obfuscation of information not hindering the
series, but rather accentuating both the events that occur and the characterization of its
cast.
I’d like to pick apart a few key examples to illustrate these points, and perhaps better
explain why I’ve chosen to ruin every 10-score game of AMQ.
Anagnorisis is the Greek word for the moment in a play or other work wherein a character
undergoes a sudden revelation.
It is reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes or Dr. Gregory House making a key connection, but
the term applies to more than just events with plot relevance.
Characters may have a sudden poignant observation about their relation to other characters,
the gravity of the situation they find themselves in, or even insight into where they stand
with the main antagonist.
In essence, anagnorisis is the transition from ignorance to knowledge—the lightbulb
moment, the iconic “Eureka!”.
The Monogatari series is filled to the brim with these moments, and what’s interesting
is that this transition commonly happens to both its characters as well as the audience.
The method from which this is accomplished happens through a myriad of ways, including
a combination of paralepsis and purposeful understatement.
Take, for example, Shinobu.
When she’s first presented, there is an inherent air of mystery surrounding her.
Paralepsis is a literary technique where something is emphasized by purposefully stating you’re
*not* going to talk about it, and this is the main device driving our interest in Bake.
When Senjou inquires about the curious blonde child curled up in the corner, Araragi immediately
dismisses it with a “Oh, you can just ignore her.
She has no shadow or shape… neither a name or any substance.”
Of course, this only serves to increase our curiosity further, and my own personal reaction
was, “...what?”
From here on, she continues to play a role in the events that transpire throughout Bake,
and the show is careful not to provide any context whatsoever.
All we know is that she and Araragi have a curious back-and-forth relationship, coming
to a head when she triumphantly saves the day at the end of Tsubasa Cat.
This air of intrigue is hoisted up by Monogatari’s achronological nature.
Nisioisin has gone on record to say that Kizumonogatari is a fine starting point, but you would be
doing yourself a disservice.
Everything uncertain about Shinobu snaps into place the more you consume Monogatari.
Regardless of when you watch Kizu, as long as you watch it after Bake it elevates her
character and retroactively gives more weight to her appearances.
We learn of her and Araragi’s storied past, and her actions make remarkably more sense
given this context.
She resents Araragi for his inability to commit, and his actions lead to both of them suffering
in the end.
However, despite all of this, she still harbors feelings of adoration towards him, leading
to her ferocious defense of his wellbeing.
Watching the Kizu films as your introduction to the series robs the audience of the mystery
and nuance behind Shinobu’s character as well as where she exactly stands
with Araragi.
In a sense, it adds an interesting meta component that ultimately allows the series to “have
its cake and eat it too,” allowing the audience the benefit that comes with the usage of *in
media res* as well as the satisfaction that comes with anagnorisis.
Rather than its chronology being used as a one-trick pony, it also works synergistically
with the show’s tendency to muddle the importance of its events.
Simply put, whether it be what Monogatari chooses to focus on or what the characters
say, one cannot trust what’s presented to them at face value.
Kaiki dies at the end of Hitagi End until he doesn’t, Nadeko is a throwaway moe character
until she isn’t—where Shinobu goes in Tsubasa Cat doesn’t matter until it does.
If anything her brief disappearance could be misconstrued as a rather clumsy attempt
to drum up tension and drama… at least until you reach Mayoi Jiangshi four seasons later.
Then you’re given the gift of being served a strange sense of synchronicity as both you
*and* Araragi experience the deluge of realization that comes with anagnorisis.
The thought of I (Araragi) mean(s) that much to her?
I find that these shared moments of anagnorises introduce an interesting meta component that
you wouldn’t otherwise receive if not for Monogatari’s curious chronological order.
There’s a common argument made in favor of watching Kizumonogatari first—the reasoning
being that viewing otherwise is a disservice to Hanekawa’s character.
To the contrary, I believe that the positioning of Hanekawa’s arcs is better able to show
her progression with the benefit of doing so in a striking fashion.
In Bake, she’s framed as knowledgeable, but harboring a secret at the same time.
At this point in time the viewer is presented with a Hanekawa that is precariously balanced
between the two sides of herself—the goody two-shoes class president who claims to “only
know what she knows,” and the personification of stress that is Black Hanekawa.
And while you have a taste of both of these sides in Bake, the viewer is far from understanding
this dichotomy fully.
Enter Kizu.
By watching Kizu directly after Bake, you get to experience that half of her character,
the side she wishes to present and that Araragi idolizes.
Then, while Nise is mostly focused on Araragi and his sense of justice, we get a sneak peak
at Hanekawa’s failings due to the fact that one of its big conflicts comes about directly
through her own hubris—after which we’re plunged into Neko: Kuro/Tsubasa Tiger and
exposed to the rest of the unhealthy and distasteful components of her character.
By separating it in this way, you’re able to get a powerful juxtaposition of the two
sides of Hanekawa that she balances, before obtaining the relief that comes with having
those two sides reconciled at the end of Tsubasa Family.
Watching in a mostly chronological order, namely Kizu into Neko: Kuro, would be akin
to skipping the introduction in an essay, and all of the threads and set-up that that
entails.
To bring it back to my meta comment, I feel as if this structure also allows one to experience
the visceral dissonance that Araragi must’ve felt when learning about Hanekawa’s true
nature, and the recognition of his own feelings towards her.
Seeing as the majority of the series is told from his perspective—and indeed Monogatari
plays with perspective quite a bit—it is fitting that the audience be allowed this
opportunity.
Essentially, what I’m trying to say is that much of the enjoyment derived from the Monogatari
series arises from being left in the dark, and then bit by bit being shown the light.
Nekomonogatari: Kuro is often maligned by fans of the series for being essentially a
rehash of the themes and ideas presented in Bake, down to also having a similar structure.
However, one should note that those who watched Neko: Kuro when it was airing did not have
access to the Kizumonogatari films at the time and thus missed out on the experience
of juxtaposition that I mentioned above, as well as the context Kizu brings.
I also feel that the repetition drives home the futility of Hanekawa’s attempts at avoidance
and emphasizes the more unsavory parts of herself,
but I digress.
The fact of the matter is, Neko: Kuro’s value is enhanced with the existence and consumption
of Kizu, and this pattern occurs so often throughout Monogatari that it might as well
be a fundamental pillar of the series.
While some seasons such as Neko: Kuro are improved retroactively due to increased context,
other seasons are improved simply by providing the context themselves.
Now, I want to preface this by stating that I think Nise is good in its own right, irrespective
of the points I’m about to make.
It’s a stellar example of how Monogatari plays with perspective in addition to exploring
justice and the questionable value of “fakeness” (I’m also of the mind that the fanservice
isn’t fanservice since it offers thematic purpose rather than pure titillation, but
this stance has been covered ad infinitum).
However, regardless of my personal interpretation and admittedly highly subjective take, I believe
Nise nonetheless offers something beyond all of that: the gift of foreshadowing and set-up.
Anton Chekhov, creator of the eponymous “Chekhov’s gun,” took a strict stance on the concept,
stating “Remove everything that has no relevance to the story.
If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second
or third chapter it absolutely must go off.
If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.”
Rather than being bogged down by this restriction, what Nisioisin ends up accomplishing is that
everything in Monogatari is either a potential Chekhov’s gun to be fired, or a red herring
meant to lead the viewer away from one.
There are a number of these guns in Nise: Nadeko’s attempt to seduce Araragi (fired
in Nadeko Medusa) , Mayoi hinting at her disappearance (fired in Shinobu Time), Senjou and Kaiki’s
implied relationship (fired in Hitagi End), and the Fire Sisters’ brand of “fake justice”
challenging Araragi’s own (fired in Sodachi Riddle).
However, the one which I consider to be most important is a scene that most likely would
have topped /r/anime’s infamous Top Bathing Scenes post, had its air date not disqualified
it.
Shinobu and Araragi’s bathroom banter runs for more than half of Nise episode 4, and
carries repercussions that echo throughout the series all the way until Final Season.
Even before watching any other part of the series, this conversation already feels weighty.
It’s the audience’s first true exposure to Shinobu, and the topics covered span from
simple plot progression, to implications about Shinobu and Araragi’s relationship.
But, when evaluated in the context of the entire series you begin to realize that this
one scene somehow reverberates throughout all of Monogatari, past, present, and future.
When viewed in the light of Kizu it’s a powerful reflection of what they went through,
as well as a reminder of what happens when Araragi’s faults are taken to an extreme.
When viewed in the light of the arc itself, Araragi is granted access to a needed ally
and great source of knowledge, and is enlightened to the questionable method of alleviating
Karen’s affliction.
And finally, when viewed in the light of the whole, this scene is a critical milestone
for their relationship.
The old saying goes, “You don’t know where you’re going until you know where you’ve
been.”
This scene outlines their relationship, no if, ands, or buts about it.
They have a begrudging acceptance of their circumstances, and for as long as Araragi
refuses to kill her, they refuse to forgive one another.
By having this baseline set, we can better witness the clear change they both undergo
in regard to their feelings towards one another.
One need only look at Shinobu’s actions in Shinobu Mail and (very blessed) outward
signs of affection she demonstrates in Owari 2 to pick up on this
shift.
As for Araragi, he needlessly continues his contract with Shinobu at the conclusion of
Ougi Dark, flying in the face of his assertions and feelings presented in Nise.
What I’m saying is, Nisemonogatari is *important*.
Evaluated on its own, sure, other arcs have more interesting themes, have wider reaching
implications, and are focused on more intricate characters.
But, when evaluated with the whole in mind its value climbs, and one begins to realize
just how *necessary* it is—and it is how that necessity is established that makes it
great in its own right.
In addition to what I mentioned before, that conversation also directly foreshadows Tsuki,
and the potential consequences of Araragi’s vampiric-ness.
Speaking of Tsuki, that’s another often criticized installment that is made better
given the knowledge of what it is setting up, while still artfully managing to tackle
its own themes of necessary evils and the nature of acceptance.
It is here that the stage is set and the pieces are put into play: Araragi’s disillusionment
and doubt, Tadatsuru cocking his Chekhov’s gun… and Yotsugi blatantly foreshadowing
the final conflict of Owari 2.
What exactly, does the phrase “more than the sum of its parts” mean?
I find that the easiest example to provide is that of a barbershop quartet.
Each voice on its own provides a dulcet tone, but when sung in unison creates the appearance
of distinct fifth “ghost” tone.
The result is a ringing chord that is more pleasant sounding than any of the individual
notes could be.
Thus far I’ve been extolling the virtues of how interlaced the Monogatari series is
in terms of characterization and set-up, as well as how its non-linear storytelling causes
a phenomenon where prior installments are improved retroactively.
However, in doing so, I’ve neglected the majority of what makes anime, anime.
To expand on Monogatari being “more than the sum of its parts” past simple examples,
I’d like to invoke Richard Wagner’s concept of the “gesamtkunstwerk.”
Wagner was a German composer and writer whose choice of medium was the opera.
The first thing that that evokes for most people isn’t an image like other art forms,
but rather a sound—specifically the unique method of singing that allowed a performer
to project their voice in an era with no means of electrical amplification.
However, Wagner would most likely be very agitated to learn of this.
The concept of the gesamtkunstwerk he developed translates most closely to “the totality
of the work,” or “total work of art.”
Wesleyan University’s Sophia Dumaine summarizes the concept, stating “Wagner’s theory
refers directly to the idea of an operatic performance that includes music, visual art
and drama.
He believed a collaboration of all of these art forms into one total work of art to be
the greatest and most effective means of artistic expression.”
In an era where the composer of the score and the writer of the libretto (or script)
were often two separate persons, Wagner took both into his hands in an attempt to accomplish
the ideal of having each component be up to his standard.
He wanted the experience of going to one of his operas to be the de-facto one, unable
to be reproduced in any fashion other than buying a ticket and physically sitting down
in a seat.
While I wouldn’t dare compare the Monogatari series to one of Wagner’s works, I believe
the concept of gesamtkunstwerk nevertheless envelops it.
Just like how opera is more than the libretto, anime is more than its plot.
Mayoi Hell is indeed chock-full of exposition, and for those who are (somehow) uninterested
in Hachikuji’s storyline it can be lacking.
But you know what?
It’s also beautiful.
Mayoi Hell is an arc where a tired and battered Araragi is revitalized by the ever empowering
Mayoi, and serves as a reflection of where his journey has taken him.
The cinematography as such, becomes reminiscent of previous shots used in past seasons, while
at the same time preserving a steady feeling of movement.
It’s the first time a watercolor style opener is employed within the Monogatari series,
as well as the first time Hajime Ueda’s gorgeous ED art is used within the series
proper.
This is by no means something special of note or out of place in the series, Monogatari
has always oozed with SHAFT’s unique style.
Shinobu Time contains a backstory dump of Kiss Shot’s past, but this is accomplished
through a beautiful scrolling tapestry à la ala Daiki Konno.
The Kizumonogatari films contain some of the most impressive graphics in anime to date.
With its stellar visuals, superb voice acting,
and continually interesting cinematography,
Monogatari has reached the point where the anime is a complete experience in its own
right—offering something that cannot be obtained from simply reading the light novels.
Sound familiar?
This meticulous detail is applied to more than purely Monogatari’s visuals.
Take a look at any top OPs list and you’re likely to find multiple from Monogatari among
them.
They’re perfect encapsulations of the characters whose arcs they represent, and they often
even reflect elements of narrative importance.
Renai Circulation has reached meme status (for good reason),
but personally I find that evaluating it alongside Mousou♥Express
is the best way to truly appreciate both of them.
Because while Renai Circulation showcases Nadeko’s innocent and playful nature, Mousou♥Express
uncovers the sinister implications that that kind of upbringing brings, hinting at her
eventual fate in Nadeko Medusa.
The fact that discussing which of Monogatari’s OPs are the “best” results in a myriad
of different answers (mine is terminal terminal, as expected) is a testament to their quality
and the effort that SHAFT puts into every fiber of the series.
Evolutionary biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky once said, “Nothing in biology makes sense
except in the light of evolution.”
To me, nothing in Monogatari can be properly evaluated except in the light of the whole.
If Second Season is a 10, I can’t rightfully ignore the foreshadowing, setup, and context
Kizu, Neko: Kuro, Bake, and Nise artfully employ—in addition to their own inherent
value.
No, you shouldn't gloss over OPs in a series where they're incorporated magnificently into the very score to
ramp up emotional moments.
Don't believe me?
Compare Platinum Disco to Bird of Death
Senjougahara Fascination and staple staple
And of course, Parting Gift with Kaerimichi and happy bite
No, you can’t just skip Koyomimonogatari.
It's not filler—in fact there *is* no filler
Monogatari demands to be taken in its totality, and attempts to evaluate it piecemeal are
fundamentally dishonest to what it’s seeking to accomplish—neutering its effectiveness.
With the way Monogatari presents information, all of the pieces are given to you, and the
fun is putting together your own version of the puzzle and seeing if it matches the one on
the box.
But that’s the thing—you need the box.
Obviously I’m biased.
I love every aspect of Monogatari, the characters, visuals, themes, narrative, music, OPs, EDs,
the mystery—so on and so on.
It’s the closest, I feel, to the anime version of Wagner’s ideal of the gesamtkunstwerk.
And I hope that if you’ve made it to this point, you can see why.
Thanks for watching!
I'd like to thank tacticianjack, Zeria, and DoctorWhoops for their assistance with this video.
I want to note that even though it's like four times the length of the videos I typically do,
There's still a lot I couldn't get into, like defending Hanamonogatari's positoning
at the end of Second Season.
Thankfully, that's what the comments are for!
Feel free to talk with me and others about our thoughts
Because contrary to popular belief, an essay is the beginning of a discussion, not the end of one.
You can either leave a comment here, or in the reddit thread I'll link in the description.
References and Additional Reading are available in the description, but please check out the reddit thread
for some interesting and well thought out comments that I found that expand on my points,
I feel weird putting them here on YouTube.
If you enjoyed the video, you'll probably enjoy this series by Tsubasa's Family on YouTube,
breaking down all of Monogatari's foreshadowing
Take a look, it's some pretty great stuff.
And of course, if anything I said was wrong, I'm sorry.
I must've stuttered.