Dragon Ball

Few manga have shaped the battle shōnen genre as profoundly as Dragon Ball by Akira Toriyama. For many readers, it is more than just a successful series, it is considered an untouchable classic, the foundation of an entire generation of action manga. Yet this is precisely where a critical question begins: Is historical influence enough to be considered “great” forever? Or must even a supposed classic continuously prove its worth?

A closer look reveals that Dragon Ball is far from a uniform work. The early portion, often referred to as “Classic”, differs significantly from the later, action driven phase widely known as Dragon Ball Z. Both phases have distinct strengths, and distinct weaknesses. It is exactly these differences that make it difficult to accept the blanket label of “classic” without scrutiny.

Dragon Ball Classic thrives on adventure. The story unfolds as a journey, an episodic exploration of a world filled with eccentric characters, tournaments, and small rivalries. The tone is playful, sometimes silly, often lighthearted. The stakes are rarely apocalyptic, instead curiosity, competition, and companionship take center stage. This phase possesses an almost calming quality. Friendships develop naturally, ambition feels athletic rather than existential, and the world still seems open and full of possibility. The sense of boyhood camaraderie, young boys training, competing, and growing together, creates a warmth that later installments gradually lose.

Yet as charming as this sense of adventure can be, the humor poses a serious problem. Many of the jokes in Dragon Ball Classic are heavily sexualized, rely on voyeuristic setups, or reduce female characters to bodily punchlines. What may once have been framed as cheeky or provocative now often feels crude or uncomfortable. These are not isolated missteps, but recurring patterns. Women frequently exist on the margins of the narrative or serve as the targets of adolescent jokes, while narrative and moral agency remains firmly with male characters. Invoking the spirit of the 1980s may explain these elements, but it does not exempt them from criticism. A work regarded as a classic should be more than a preserved time capsule. It must withstand evolving standards and perspectives.

With Dragon Ball Z, the focus shifts dramatically. Adventure gives way to constant threat. Where the journey once defined the story, escalation now dominates it. Enemies grow stronger, training becomes harsher, transformations more spectacular. This phase perfects the battle shōnen formula, clear conflicts, visible power progression, and visually striking fights. Few works have established the principle of perpetual escalation as effectively. The emotional payoff when a new form is unlocked or an overwhelmingly powerful foe is defeated remains undeniable.

And yet, this strength is also its limitation. The relentless escalation fosters a performance driven logic that leaves little room for nuanced character development. Characters increasingly define themselves through combat ability. Strength becomes the central currency, growth occurs almost exclusively through training and transformation. The narrative pattern repeats itself, a new threat emerges, intense preparation follows, a higher level is achieved, and the enemy is ultimately overcome. With each repetition, the element of surprise diminishes. At times, it feels as though the characters require the next crisis to justify their own existence. The world of Dragon Ball appears dependent on catastrophe in order for its heroes to evolve.

None of this diminishes the series’ immense influence. Without Dragon Ball, the modern shōnen landscape would look very different. Many of the genre’s defining tropes, from tournament arcs to ever expanding transformation hierarchies, were popularized here. But influence does not automatically equal timeless quality. A classic should not only be historically significant, it should continue to resonate under contemporary scrutiny. Here the evaluation becomes more ambivalent.

Dragon Ball Classic offers a warm, almost nostalgic sense of adventure, yet it is burdened by humor that feels increasingly problematic. Dragon Ball Z delivers iconic battles and a streamlined dramatic structure, yet sacrifices narrative variety in favor of escalating power and performance. Both eras possess genuine strengths, and both reveal clear weaknesses.

Perhaps the true value of reexamining Dragon Ball lies in rejecting the idea that “classic” is a permanent, unquestionable title. The series is undoubtedly influential and formative. But influence alone does not shield a work from critique. A monument may be admired, but it should also be questioned. In that willingness to question lies the difference between a story that remains alive and one sustained primarily by nostalgia.