How to Live, Love, and Other Tanuki Recipes
The Eccentric Family
Living is something that is always happening, it is not something you do. Life and self-actualization are not as convenient as most stories would have us believe, and The Eccentric Family understands this better than most. There is no coming-of-age singularity. Our identities are malleable and fluid, and they are largely shaped by the world around us and the community we inhabit. The simple beauty of living far outweighs the meaning of life.
The foundation for the worlds that Tomihiko Morimi creates are always absurd and unruly, with a striking portrayal of people. The separation between the truthful people that inhabit his stories, and the mystical gambits that serve as their premise has never been so disparate as in The Eccentric Family. In spite of that, the poetry and wealth of meaning in the dialogue are a cut above what we come to expect from drama/slice-of-life anime. The wordplay using double entendres and syllepsis is splendid, even if they only capture a fraction of the original language. The challenges that come with adapting Morimi’s novels are often outweighed by the splendor of watching his imaginative worlds come to life, and this anime is perhaps the best illustration of that dichotomy across his adapted works. Trying to parse the logic of its world will leave you floundering, but that’s part of what makes The Eccentric Family so unique. It sweeps you into a magical world of possibility and gently guides you back to reality with the reflective nature of its dialogue and characters.
There are a few interesting creatives working on the project besides its renowned writer. Yuusuke Takeda’s art direction is as immaculate as always, but a bit more reserved compared to what we usually see from him. Kumeta has grown as a character designer in part through his tandem work with Shaft on Sayonara Zestubou-Sensei, where the designs for the characters between anime and manga were in flux and constantly influencing each other, and the result is a realization of those efforts which would solidify his style that we see today. The music was done by Yoshiaki Fujisawa, who is a big-name lately, having worked on Revue Starlight, Mushoku Tensei, Land of the Lustrous, and many more impressive compositions. This was one of his first endeavors, along with his debut on Love Live. For as simple as the music is, it does a good job of keeping a consistent meter and tone with each shift no matter the mood of the scene.
Although much of the production elements are consistent across seasons, certain areas lose a smidgeon of their luster in the second half, but not enough to bother most viewers. The backgrounds and atmosphere maintain a wonderful cohesion. From the vibrant and bustling city of Kyoto, the serenity of the forest, industrial hellscapes and everything in between, it is one of the strongest areas of the visual presentation. The animated set pieces, such as flying houses and moving mountains, are full of life and lend a unique charm to the world, particularly in the first season. The character animation is subtle and expressive, elevating Kumeta’s simple designs. In all, you can see a lot of passion and care put into this project, which is typical of a lot of P.A. Works anime. This was a peak era for them, and The Eccentric Family is one of the best of the bunch.
Following the exceedingly relatable Yasaburou, we flit through moments in the lives of the characters, learning about the way they think and what drives them. Fantastical and ridiculous things happen, but so do menial and mundane things, such is life. The story teaches us about family and the meaning of a life well-led, and each character represents a different way to reach that understanding. It is also about the balance between modernity and tradition and the tribulations of maintaining our culture through that struggle. In the same breath that it espouses respect for the traditions that make up the culture it exhibits so eloquently, it also rejects those notions. Heritage is something we must respect and learn from, not be confined by. The structure of the narrative of each season is based around interweaving episodic ~~tails~~ tales about tengu, humans, and tanuki that coalesce into a dramatic finale. The lead-up to its suspenseful finishes loosely builds around itself as the series progresses. The form the story takes is fluid, fitting for a tale of tanuki, and although it never bothers to make sense, it is always truthful.
The magical imbuement in this world is a carefree exhibition that demands a suspension of disbelief, or an acceptance of the fantastical as something ordinary. The mysteries surrounding the death of Yasaburou’s father and the ominous Benten are drip-fed through the daily life of the ~~Eccentric~~ Shimogamo family. The foundational conflict that threads the narrative is something I could never quite wrap my head around, but as the series teaches us; stopping to ask why things are the way they are, makes them more difficult to enjoy. Humans eat tanuki and that’s that. The grim reality that the Friday Fellows (who name themselves after the seven lucky gods) and their infamous dinner represent is difficult to understand with a western lens. The hierarchy of society in the anime is modeled after Japanese and Kyoto folk-lore that most of us gaijin just aren’t all that familiar with, and there are plenty of intricate cultural, historical, mythological, local, linguistic, and literary references that simply fly over our head. That is to say, I still very much enjoyed the series despite a gnawing sensation that I wasn’t able to appreciate it as much as was possible. You can certainly educate yourself about these cultural idiosyncrasies, but it seems to go against the grain of the series’ intent to do so. Isn’t it much more enjoyable to just let it wash over you? As they say, you can’t have your tanuki and eat it too.
The Eccentric Family also explores the difficulty of following your heart while staying true to your self-image, sense of propriety, and social position. The struggle with personal identity and how we place ourselves within society is one befitting of the shape-shifting tanuki, but also extends to the proud and everlasting tengu, who exhibit a stoic and unchanging grace that drapes above the lives of the more earthly dwellers. A lack of propriety allows a certain freedom to bring people together. Yasaburou’s talent for tossing aside his ego is valuable in these cases, but being so carefree with your pride can come at the cost of your self-image within others. On the other hand, characters like the proudly alluring Benten or the stuffy Nidaime struggle to find meaning in anything other than themselves. This gives them power over others, but also the weakness and loneliness of hubris. The characters are a celebration of contradictions, and watching them navigate romantic entanglements, familial obligations, and pursuits of happiness feels exceedingly real to life. Learning how to live and love, and finding the different avenues of that is a challenge unique to each individual. The time spent with others imprints on us in a variety of inexplicable ways. Those closest to us are the ones we entrust with our inscrutable weaknesses, and the ones who provide us the greatest source of strength. This gives them the power to pierce us deeply, but with the understanding that these connections provide an invaluable source of belonging.
Considering the succinct and poignant characterization of the cast in the first seasons, the best way to expand on the perspectives of its themes is by introducing new characters. With them comes a plot-driven escalation that is at odds with a slice-of-life delivery, and so the second season relies more on the drama of its storytelling. There is a certain escalation required for this, even for a story as laid back as The Eccentric Family. The deeper we tread into the world of tanuki and tengu the more enticing it becomes, but the more difficult it is to understand, changing the impact of its mood. The whimsical nature of the anime wanes ever so slightly the higher the tensions of its plot rise. Like the novels it’s derived from, each story beat builds upon the last. Much of the second season retreads and reimagines many of the narrative beats of the first, but as the context changes, so does their result. The intensification of the narrative in the second half may appeal to some audiences, and the dips in presentation with the set pieces, character models, and background CG are not noticeable enough to impact the viewing experience much. The repetition of scene structure in the second season was a boon as much as it was a crutch. The predictability can be rewarding though. By watching the cyclical patterns created by tradition unfold, and seeing it tempered by the accumulation of experiences and the shifts in values that occur over time, we get to see the progress of the characters alongside their community, and because of it.
Like many of the anime stemming from Morimi-sensei's novels, an introspective calm is created through melding respect for life with a rambunctious appreciation for the wealth given to us by experiences. What it lacks in accessibility, it makes up for in relatability and fun... and “a fun thing is a good thing.”
As with life, you’ll get from The Eccentric Family about as much as you put into it, and that's a recipe for anime that I can get behind.
