Producers: Anime Industry Backbones
The producer’s role in anime is one that truly constitutes the backbone of the industry. And yet, it arguably doesn’t get the attention it deserves when people are analyzing the successes of stellar anime series. A few shows that litter anime history have, however, dedicated considerable effort to depict the production side of anime — in ways that can vary from dramatic and showcasing the stressful working conditions producers and their assistants face, to comedic and lighthearted treatments that also downplay traumatic, relatable moments in the animation industry.
Such an article’s role in the wider context of this anime blog is to correct in a complementary way, perhaps with more experience as an anime writer, and with more up-to-date references, a previous publication I wrote, like, a year ago. It wanted to quickly delve into why studios mattered when thinking about anime, mentioning stuff like in-house staff as opposed to outsourcing to freelancers that might even work from overseas — with concurrency from China, South Korea and the Philippines, no wonder anime prices per unit are pushed low… It also addressed studios as structures that focused around directors, like Hayao Miyazaki at Ghibli, or Naoko Yamada back at Kyoto Animation, and many more. Another part of it may have been how work cultures and influences could be traced alongside how animators and other creatives bounced around structures, making their own at times… So there was definitely room for improvement.
Outside the scope of this article, that clearly aims at shining light on the producer’s role today, I’ll still develop a bit, as it is tangential to the issue at hand. There is a form of authorialism in anime, and it has been around since basically its foundation with Osamu Tezuka’s rich body of animated works and the immense influence of Mushi Production. Anime as an aesthetic is rich and vast, but it’s undeniable a production model historically defines the medium — that you can’t take it out of context, lest your analysis will lose riches, for instance on points like how Cool Japan policies or the otaku moral panic that spread through the media affected anime. This paradigm focuses more on the importance of material conditions, and trends, like releases made to fit Netflix’s binge-watching model, as a counterpart to the weekly broadcast way, that heavily characterizes the cinematography going into TV anime series, is a modern sign of it.
What do Re:Zero (2016) and Oshi no Ko (2023) each share? Other than the trend of reincarnation, of course. Anime shows based on reincarnation and other worlds are massively popular, and this is true both for manga and light novels. But it is merely a plot device, one that sets up the condition for plural possible non-linearities. In Re:Zero especially, the protagonist Subaru can die multiple times, each time reaching conclusions thanks to more exposition, driven in his inner and character conflicts by bodily and soulful pangs. In Oshi no Ko, the edgier side of the story lies on the possibility for revenge, as well as how the series constructs itself on manipulation as its theme, whether it be through social networking and engineering, or acting as an artistic and yet shape-shifting performance. I believe it is most beautifully expressed at the film’s climax. But yeah, all this parenthesis to say, Re:Zero’s first episode ever released lasted double the length of a normal episode, 50 minutes. Oshi no Ko, 1 hour 22 minutes. And Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, as every anime connoisseur worth their salt should know by then, will air this September, and is announced to last 2 hours.
“While screenings weren’t as common before, it seems that the success of theatrical anime runs in Japan has resulted in more advanced screenings of seasonal anime”
Nicolo Manaloto
In this context, one may think that it is a recent trend in anime release to have introductory episodes last longer, to make a bigger impact with longer build-up to allow for a potent pay-off, as a climax that sets up for a great cliffhanger. It may likely be the gutsy move of producers in front of the successes others have achieved before. As an online piece puts it, “Oshi no Ko advance screenings will begin tomorrow, March 17, in select theaters across Japan. These screenings will give fans a chance to watch the extra-long first episode of the anime ahead of its TV premiere. While screenings weren’t as common before, it seems that the success of theatrical anime runs in Japan has resulted in more advanced screenings of seasonal anime,” The article goes on to mention early international screenings for Kimetsu no Yaiba, too.
For Oshi no Ko’s release schedule tells us that early screenings and TV broadcast premiere are two different dates, that set up varying expectations and reception conditions. The differed releases allow to create word of mouth on social media, because the theatrical experience has such a strong social aspect in contrast to today’s atomicized digital world. As I wrote before, the social component of the theatrical experience also accompanies more packaging opportunities for the production. The distribution of free goodies to mark the event can truly strengthen the relationship between a franchise and a dedicated fan, in a much more material and tangible way than a TV broadcast ever might.
“[When] I spoke with the producer […] about what we’re going to work on next, Kobayashi-san asked me if there’s a manga or something that I like in particular”
Kanna Hirayama
Considerable media coverage has also been given to the staff behind Oshi no Ko’s production, notably focusing on Kanna Hirayama, whose career deservingly gained in recognition with this series (Chief Animation Director, Character Design, and Animation Director on both the opening and ending, the latter of which she did some in-between for). And we learn this way that it kind of was her pet project, as she herself suggested the manga adaptation to the producer: “[When] I spoke with the producer, Kobayashi-san, about what we’re going to work on next, Kobayashi-san asked me if there’s a manga or something that I like in particular,” And I want to see in this proactiveness — the degree of personal involvement an artist had with an anime production — , the mark of an anime legend, Yoshinori Kanada. His pet project (if not magnum opus) was the critically acclaimed Birth (1984), whose production context has been profusely detailed elsewhere with sheer dedication.
Another recent anime, hugely known by sakuga afficionados for the very interesting vistas we’ve all been given the chance to collectively experience, and piece apart, was Bocchi the Rock! (2022). Just the name carries an aura of weirdness, of melting anatomy, of shape-shifting tones. The production was so innovative it was one of the rare times in commercial TV anime that a technique like stop-motion was used, granting the visuals an awkward materiality. Also a female Character Designer, Key Animator and Chef Animation Director — I’m hopeful mentioning this helps make this article, my blog and my anime content creation as a whole a more inclusive platform for female anime creatives — , Kerorira answered to a Sakuga Blog interview about Bocchi the Rock!’s production, and more precisely the freedom granted throughout the production. As Chief Animation Director, she was in such a position as to heavily influence what occurs onscreen.
“I wanted the on-screen results to take full advantage of what the animators wanted to do, as long as it makes sense for the anime, so much of the individual animators’ personality shines through in the end. And so, there may be episodes that have a slightly different feel from the others, but in turn, you’ll see the characters are richly animated. I think it’s good for each episode to be distinctive in its own way. I’ve drawn some key animation for every episode, and the subtleties of my own art are in every one of them. So I think we’ve managed to showcase everyone’s quirks and individuality, while at the same time retaining the quality and cohesion of the work as a whole.” Shouta Umehara, the show’s producer, also participated to this interview, commending Kerorira’s big contribution to the success of the production.
“I didn’t really have many screenwriter contacts to begin with. A colleague from Aniplex had previously worked […] at A-1 Pictures, and they referred her to me”
Shouta Umehara
The interview also goes into detail as to what the role of a producer actually entails, including the need for a wide network, for industry street-smarts, and being on the lookout for fresh talent. He notably says “As for the series composer, […] I didn’t really have many screenwriter contacts to begin with. A colleague from Aniplex had previously worked together with Yoshida on the anime Love Me, Love Me Not at A-1 Pictures, and they referred her to me,” We learn that referrals from coworkers are notably how names travel in the industry, and that contacts from other studios can be relied upon in such situations. It rings a familiar bell with the idea that Japanese animation studios show more propensity toward helping one another than Western ones, as confirmed French MAPPA animator Benjamin Faure with Full Frontal: “Studios help each other out a lot in Japan. It’s not the case in France; you won’t see it here as companies compete with one another and don’t share resources during production,” something you also see in Golden Boy (1995), where Tatsuya Egawa’s Kintarou explores onscreen the role of a production assistant. He is to save an anime show by calling his previous colleagues, including a CG production company (though not an anime-related studio in this example, but it’s close enough to drive the point home).
Seamless transition to the anime depiction of anime production, a part of this article I had set up for a fair bit of time. I even already released a video on that very subject, whose scope ranged from Otaku no Video (1991) to Shirobako (2014–2020) and Eizouken (2020). Basically, in this video I evoked: the depictions of evolving anime technologies onscreen, like how CG gets used in Shirobako as opposed to the multiplane camera shown in Otaku no Video; the role of a production assistant or producer like in Animation Runner Kuromi (2001–2004); how Eizouken was more about the indie and amateur scenes for Japanese animation — as well, perhaps, as valuing the history of anime as an aesthetic. My point was that the anime production side of the industry was introduced to the viewer through the production assistant, more relatable for being new to the industry and great from a narrative standpoint because they get to interact with all departments in the pipeline, and more.
I mentioned how anime could depict the production side as comic. It can get vulgar with sexuality in Golden Boy, or be spectacular with how the car moves around in an urgency shown through Animation Runner Kuromi. But the hardships of the anime industry are also depicted, for instance the rush to get the final (weekly?) episode footage of a release to the TV broadcasting station, the depression a director might face when a show’s corrections aren’t up to standard, the legal issues ensuing between various anime stakeholders in Shirobako’s movie. The latter has much more time to expose and explore the dramatic implications of being a worker in the anime industry.
Following this short dive in anime depictions of the production assistant or producer, we know in a more visceral way what it’s like to produce an anime show. And this is because primary sources are getting more available over time. Still, the anime community at large cannot be expected to show that much interest into the inner workings of anime production, which tends to level down the average anime production discussion. Such as those taking place on social media, for instance. There is still a trend to conflate individual productions to studios, one of the initial attempts at pattern-seeking we can expect from new anime fans. But if studios help one another the staff is non-exclusive among productions, so…
“When “animation breakdown” happens, it is usually not because of negligence from the production assistants […] but because the […] production company had lost out to a bigger company in the “war for animation directors.””
Shin Itagaki
Some skills are in shortage so you cannot expect too much. In a Web Anime Style column on January 17th, 2019, the director for Berserk (2016) complained on the state of the industry: “Itagaki stated that when “animation breakdown” [so called sakuga houkai] happens, it is usually not because of negligence from the production assistants or because the storyboards were finished too late, but because the smaller/mid-sized production company had lost out to a bigger company in the “war for animation directors.” In other words, the production has no choice but to leave bad animation as it is,” and the choice to word it as a war between companies is polite. But in truth, in concrete terms, it probably is a war waged by producers. Of course, additional factors like a sakkan’s schedule or the salaries proposed may outweigh the producer’s networking influence in getting a sakkan on board.
Plus the fact some studios are so large, like MAPPA with 360 employees as of April 2023, they actively need productions to dedicate their acquired manpower on. Because scaling up for a single title is well and good, but there are diminishing returns in getting everyone on the same show. So it may be why MAPPA’s franchising is sometimes described as aggressive. And the quality of MAPPA productions can be versatile to say the least, like on Jigokuraku (2023). But MAPPA’s strategy as a studio is also the result of producer, co-founder Masao Maruyama, in the industry since his Assistant Director position on W3 by Osamu Tezuka in 1965. Manabu Otsuka, CEO since 2016, also has experience as a producer. But to link MAPPA’s glorious production experience with Osamu Tezuka is somewhat meaningful.
“Joe’s starting date was moved up by several months to become April 1st, 1970 so that Mushi could receive the money earlier”
Matteo Watzky
At the same time, this Animétudes article investigates Ashita no Joe (1970), an anime whose airing date was moved for the reason of treasury. “The studio needed money, and fast. In the first months of 1970, it agreed to take on Moomin from Tokyo Movie in the middle of the show’s production. And, at the same time, Joe’s starting date was moved up by several months to become April 1st, 1970 so that Mushi could receive the money earlier,” so perhaps this legacy may not be the best thing to have taken on. We know MAPPA is famous for bad scheduling… But I’m rather unaware, or suspicious, as to how much credence we can give to that claim — in comparison to how scheduling works out at other studios. The same article also talks about a “producer system”, which I interpret as a specific work culture proper to Mushi Pro at the time.
An history account on anime production, this time Studio Ghibli: An Industrial History (2023) by Rayna Denison, explores the industrial history of Ghibli as a studio. What this fundamentally means is that work culture is addressed, through the studio’s own communicative means too. We learn about Toshio Suzuki, CEO of the studio. At the very least, he is a very involved producer, and strong at communicating intent (like the katana anecdote with Disney subsidiary Miramax Films, where Miyazaki confirmed Toshio Suzuki’s role in that).
The curious way to promote the upcoming movie with sheer silent and perhaps the word of mouth it’s supposed to generate, or maybe to avoid feeding into the endless noise saturation of the media, or dare I say to comment on consumption society? I’m filled with hypotheses and others may as well be too. It’s ballsy to say the least, but I think it might flop? Except communication will probably amplify once its premiere generates responses. And perhaps the strategy was planned to cash in on that momentum generation. After all, Ghibli is a staple so everyone will want to take a look in that. We did learn in the past few days about the presence of a simultaneous IMAX release, a first in Ghibli’s history and a sign of innovation like Gorou Miyazaki’s full-CGI Aya to Majo. This announce a week prior to releases may be a compromise to deliver tidbits and create waves little by little. One wonders if it’ll inspire other producers and productions, but a huge part of it is the house staple and prestige status of Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki. The director is getting old and it might be the last legacy he departs this world with, and to turn off the media noise may be a way to play into the ceremony of this fact.
What it all tells us is that studios are fundamentally working with producers at their core. That’s what we notice with MAPPA, with Ghibli and with Mushi Production. The Orbital Children (2022) could progress in its production because a new structure (Production +h.) was founded, with producer Fuminori Honda spearheading it, after working for Production I.G. The latter structure supported Fuminori Honda’s initiative. Producers set up productions to success because they can bring with them the quality of their network, referrals, Twitter feed as industry insiders will know — though Musk taking over and messing with the platform might impulse a change in practices — , and all. And so they act as backbones to the industry at large. Perhaps you should look into that, if you are to seek patterns into why an anime turned out into what it became.
This article shall conclude by summing up the threads we’ve woven through. I have first tried to give more of a general emphasis on the role of the producer and the production side of the anime industry, by fleshing out the importance of studios as business structures that allow for a better understanding of the commercial nature of anime. We have then tried to establish a parallelism between Re:Zero and Oshi no Ko with their prolonged introductory episodes, helping the shows to properly set the stage impactfully, inspired by cinematography — this was especially more tangible in the case of Oshi no Ko since early screenings preceded the TV premiere. Such decisions, like Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End announcing a 2-hours first episode, and Kimetsu no Yaiba apparently doing screenings worldwide, are ways to light a fire in communities. The scheduling of releases is a choice the production side of anime gets to make. On Oshi no Ko, Character Designer and Chief Animation Director Kanna Hirayama influenced the production proactively, discussing Doga Kobo’s future project after Selection Project with the producer, Ryo Kobayashi, and suggesting the manga.
This means a lot in terms of how the producer can give pulse to an adaptation getting to see the light of day. On Bocchi the Rock!, we know Kerorira was Chief Animation Director and Character Designer, thus getting to direct a lot of the production. It seems the direction was kind of toward freedom for creatives, however to bring in the talents the producer is a necessary element to consider. Anime is teamwork but also where individuality gets to shine — at least when creative freedom is valued as a founding factor of animation as such. Sometimes, anime is so smooth and uniform that it gets disgusting, so the weirdness of creative freedom helps to enrich the medium. We have also branched toward mentioning anime producers and production assistants as depicted in anime, through various shows from Golden Boy to Shirobako or Eizouken. This means a corpus that might cover 2, 3 decades. We learn about technological evolutions that change how the job operates, for instance in pipeline departments. But also of hardships like tense relationships with a sponsor due to schedule, or the need to abandon corrections at the risk of traumatizing a director.
We then moved to focus more on why taking into account producers helped to better understand anime. For example when the director on Berserk (2016) claims there is a “war for animation directors”, it is the producer’s role to get talent on board, so perhaps that the terrible quality of the show is here to shift to animation directors (or it may be the director protecting himself). We do know talented people worked on the show since it is very detailed, just that the movement isn’t there and sucks so much the entire attention of the viewership focuses on that. At the same time, anime is animation first and foremost and CGI gets criticized even harsher; for respect toward this technical anime subgenre and for the legacy of a manga that greatly shaped the culture… Anyhow, this declaration shows the producer’s sometimes major contribution down the line.
Furthermore, we also thought a bit about MAPPA’s supposedly aggressive franchising, necessary for a 360-strong workforce, and the versatile quality of some of their shows. We then went on to think about how one of the co-founders was a producer, as well as has been the current CEO. And the first co-founder even worked with Tezuka, when we know the man shaped the business model of like, most of the entire industry. Ghibli is one more studio whose producer greatly succeeded, with strong communication skills: from bringing a katana to a Disney-owned company, to selling a movie with little to no official publication. Gambits must be everywhere in Toshio Suzuki’s career, and his awareness of how Appleseed revolutionized CGI in anime is just one trivial shatter of his acumen. Even The Orbital Children’s Production +h. saw itself founded by Honda Fuminori, a producer, with support from Production I.G which he left as he worked on the movie. So yeah, structures are greatly impacted by producers at their core, and projects are given pulse thanks to the networking for talents and a critical understanding of how anime as a business operates.
