06.30
Always the Demon fidgets here beside me
— Destruction. Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)
Aku No Hana—adapted from Shūzō Oshimi’s manga by Hiroshi Nagahama of Mushishi fame—proved to be ambitious, to say the least. Beyond all the controversies over questionable designs throughout the show, the series can be peeled back to reveal a story about a boy forced into a pact with the devil and not knowing what else to do. The mentality of a teenage boy has been thoroughly dissected again and again in literature, movies, music, video games, and many more forms of art. Following the paths of characters like Werther and Holden Caulfield, Takao Kasuga accidentally makes one wrong choice and goes through hellfire as payment. However, the banality of Kasuga’s actions combined with introspection that ultimately leads into self-destruction generates questions aimed at the series’ stance at humanity and intellectualism. Does Aku No Hana disparage the idea of teenage philosophy or does it revel in the concept?
Of unbridled laughter mingled with tears of gloom;
For Lesbos chose me among all other poets. — Lesbos. William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Takao’s life is established as boring, yet peaceful. There are brief glints of hope, but no chance of ever grabbing onto them. For all of the disapproval from both family and friends, the catalyst of his personal hell—stealing Saeki’s gym clothes—also signifies the start of his spirituals highs and lows. To commit a sin in his own eyes means that he’s been pulled out of childhood and thrown into a world of extremes. While the outside world shames him, Takao’s anguish allows him to escape his shell and become more upfront and open with his emotions as a human being.
Give me the courage and the power
To contemplate my own true image without disgust! — A Voyage to Cythera. George Dillon, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)
On the other hand, Takao’s attempt at personal evolution is restricted by impulsive decisions and an inability to get what he wants. Many events like Takao’s breakup with Saeki and refusals to ever actually throw away the gym clothes imply that Takao wants to be kept in this position of unease and disarray. He’s been shoved into the fast lane, but refuses to reach the finish line. Why does Takao want to indulge himself with thorns on his backside when they could be easily removed through mere rationality? If Takao’s angst is self-inflicted, then Oshimi illustrates how man must need the devil in order to thrive. While this deviancy strangles Takao’s soul, the inner pain has also allowed committing to actions like ask out Saeki. Without evil, humanity cannot ascend into good.
As blood runs in the lists, round tumbled armored bones,
It soaks the city, islanding the paving-stones;
Everything thirsty leans to lap it, with stretched head;
Trees suck it up; it stains their trunks and branches red. — The Fountain of Blood. Edna St. Vincent Millay, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)
But why must humanity force itself into horrible situations in order to thrive? While Aku No Hana speaks about how one much sacrifice in order to gain, the gains could have been won without having to give up anything. Self-harm won’t make you stronger. Instead, you’ll just have a bunch of scars. However, Aku No Hana seems to teach that pain is a lesson in and of itself. Rather than falling down in order to learn how to pick ourselves up, the series cuts the second half of the lesson in favor of teaching how merely falling down benefits us. But how so? Casting humanity into the darkness without teaching them of the light only creates questions rather than opportunities.
Frozen with fear, I shut my eyelids tight,
Then, opening them against the garish light,
I saw no solid puppet by my side
Whose lusts my blood, drained dry, had satisfied, — Metamorphoses of a Vampire. Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil (Mt Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper Press, 1958)
Deviancy for deviancy’s sake appears to be what characters in Aku No Hana strive for, as if Takao and Nakamura take pleasure in causing chaos toward society and within themselves. While this type of pleasure can be seen as a form of schadenfreude, the characters also restrict themselves from doing extreme forms of havoc like violence upon other people, or at least so far in the adaptation. More than a few commentators have compared characters in Aku No Hana to Alex DeLarge from A Clockwork Orange. Alex DeLarge was known for wreaking havoc just to express his own cruel self upon humanity, but his acts often involved rape and murder. Nakamura commits one act of sexual assault throughout the first thirteen episodes and nothing more extreme than that. She doesn’t so much cross the line as she does just inch her way toward deviancy. The characters discuss how they are being deviants rather than the actual act of being a deviant. They pride themselves instead of actually act upon these sins. But really, the minds of the young do like to exaggerate.
When is this fierce, ludicrous game
To come to an end? — Cupid and the Skull. William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
The ideal of a teenager doesn’t age well. What’s special and heartfelt when you’re sixteen seems trite when you’re twenty-one. However, Oshimi’s point adds too much pointless cynicism to an already difficult time in life. He illustrates the perils of pubescence through a domino effect instead of multiple threads that seldom align. For a show that has been prided as intelligent, the series offers a very simplistic view as to how young adults can sink into depravity. Saying Takao Kasuga represents any kind of teenager is like saying Idi Amin is a good representation of the average rugby player. Instead of allowing for ambiguity to take hold, Aku No Hana’s black and white view of human mentality causes an inconsistent stance as to whether the perspective is in favor or against Nakamura.