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by Paul Dini
Paul Dini is a writer and producer whose
animation credits include He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, The
Transformers, Batman Beyond, and Superman: The Animated
Series.
From the Ancient Fables of Aesop to the contemporary cartoons of Bugs
Bunny, the humble rabbit has long been a symbol of cleverness and survival.
Even mythology's master strategist, the fox, routinely comes off the loser
when he tries to match wits with his fleet-footed adversary, as the
African-American folktales of Br'er Rabbit readily attest. Whether
he is called hare, cottontail, or jackrabbit, the little guy with the big
ears and buck teeth is truly a timeless figure, and his legends have been
told as long as there have been human beings around to tell them.
The storytelling tradition of ancient Japan holds friend rabbit in high
esteem as well. As a child, one of my favorite bedtime stories was a rather
ghoulish Japanese "fairy tale" telling of the murder of a farmer's kindly
wife by a wicked tanuki, or raccoon dog. It seems the good wife fed
and sheltered the little demon, who later repaid the woman for her
generosity by murdering her and serving up her stewed remains to the farmer.
Pretty gruesome behavior for old tanuki, a comical creature usually
depicted wearing an oversized straw hat and toting a saké bottle.
Maybe he drank too much saké and became unhinged, or maybe he was
simply one seriously sociopathic raccoon dog; the story was vague on that
point. What is known is that the grief-stricken farmer was horrified at the
crime, as was his good friend, a rabbit who lived in the nearby woods.
Playing on the tanuki's greed, the rabbit lured the evil creature
away on a treasure hunt, then secretly set fire to the tanuki's
backpack. When the nasty varmint jumped into a river to douse the flames,
the rabbit clubbed him with a paddle and that was the end of that
tanuki. In this story, as in many others told throughout the world,
we witness the triumph of a small and traditionally meek character who has
called upon his brains and bravery to defeat a larger, more aggressive
enemy. It is a classic theme and one which writer/artist Stan Sakai weaves
masterfully through his endlessly imaginative ongoing series, Usagi
Yojimbo.
Stan often pits Usagi, a rabbit ronin of seventeenth-century
Japan, in combat against a host of humanoid wolves, cats, bears, and other
less easily defined carnivores. Far more than a funny animal conceit, it
always seemed to me that Stan was making a visual comment on the true
natures of heroes and villains while perhaps referencing the great print
maker Tsukikoa Yoshitoshi. In his depictions of Japanese legends,
Yoshitoshi often revealed the hidden, many times horrifying
animalistic nature of his human subjects. A woman's shadow partially cast on
a screen reveals the head of a fox. A samurai gazing into a dish of
water sees not the pretty girl behind him but a reflection of her demonic
inner being. In Yoshitoshi's world, the face of serenity masks the
darker parts of the human id. It's only upon closer examination
that we see the beast lurking within.
In the world of Usagi, the reverse is true. The animals' faces
are their masks while their humanity (or lack thereof) is revealed through
their personalities, or to be more accurate, through Stan's deft
characterizations. Whether he is armed with swords or not, Usagi is often
perceived by many to be a physically weaker character. Ignorant enemies
overlook his speed and skill, to say nothing of his courageous heart, and
that is their inevitable undoing. Usagi also possesses the
samurai's most valuable weapon, the wisdom of knowing when to fight
and when to stand down. It's a trait that some might mistakenly read as
cowardice (as the boy Eizo does in the short story "A Life of
Mush"), but it subtly recalls the moral put forth in directory Akira
Kurosawa's samurai epic Sanjuro that the best swords are
the ones that stay in their scabbards.
With the stories collected in this volume, Stan Sakai shows off every
facet of Usagi's engaging and complex personality. We see him as Usagi the
warrior certainly, but in "The Inn on Moon Shadow Hill" we also meet Usagi
the trickster. After discovering the truth about a colony of obakémono
(goblins) infesting the woods near a lonely inn, Usagi adds his own
fantastic spin on the tale, preserving the legend of the creatures while
slyly arranging a tidy profit for his efforts.
A much more serious encounter with demons is recounted in
"Kumo." Here Usagi joins forces with the mysterious demon-hunter
Sasuké to destroy a terrifying spider-creature that has laid siege
to a mountain village. The fox-like Sasuké is a terrific addition
to Usagi's extended cast of allies and enemies, and unlike the reluctant
Usagi, I can't wait for the mystic to make a return appearance.
The collection's longest tale, "The Mystery of the Demon Mask," places
Usagi in a situation that calls on him to be as much detective as he is
samurai. While searching for the masked fiend that has been killing
masterless samurai, the rabbit ronin fights to stay alive
in a tightening web of tragedy, betrayal, and madness. As with all good
mysteries, the outcome is both surprising and satisfying, but Sakai goes a
step further to add a final bitter yet not inappropriate twist to the epic.
It's the sort of human touch that has placed Usagi Yojimbo far in
front of every other "funny animal" book published since Carl Barks bid
adieu to Duckburg thirty-five years ago.
It's the mark of a great storyteller. It's the stuff of legends.
- Paul Dini
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