Meet the Creators of Madhouse Anime | Madhouse Mind Probe Complete Series

Meet the Creators of Madhouse Anime | Madhouse Mind Probe Complete Series

Huh…wait. Who am I already? I’m Masao Maruyama,
and I ran Madhouse ages ago. He is one of the most prolific producers in the anime industry, well-known for kickstarting the careers of many world-renowned directors… …and for founding animation studios Madhouse and MAPPA: Masao Maruyama. Let’s dive into his mind and learn more about how Madhouse’s masterpieces were created. Back then, almost nobody here
knew about Japanese animation. And I’d never even heard of a company
called Mushi Pro making animation. We didn’t even use the word “animation”. But someone who knew [Osamu] Tezuka told me
to lend a hand at Mushi Pro, and so I did. Back then, there was only Tōei making
one animated movie every three years. Tezuka suddenly announced he was going to
make Astro Boy into a weekly animated TV show. Most people thought he was crazy. It seemed impossible,
but Tezuka did it anyway. He gave his all and opened
the path for everyone to follow. I think he was the driving force
of Japanese animation, at least on TV. In those days, animation work
wasn’t clearly divided up like it is today. Everybody just did whatever they could do.
Those who could draw, drew. Those who couldn’t draw wrote the story,
or worked as production assistants. In the most extreme cases,
they cleaned the place. My only strength was
that I wasn’t picky about work. I wasn’t qualified to do anything,
but everything I could do, I did. Back then you had to take on whatever
you could do, and I guess it fit my character. To be honest, Ashita no Joe wasn’t
Mushi Pro’s typical animation style. It definitely wasn’t the type
of work they wanted to make. That’s why there were so few
Mushi Pro staff working on the project. The studio’s most notorious members were
working on other projects. Then again, it might be
because Joe was so marginal… …that its staff worked so hard, right? After Joe, we made an anime
called Kunimatsu-sama no Otōridai. Mushi Pro went bankrupt right around that time. So we built Madhouse with the
Kunimatsu-sama staff, mostly from Joe. But it’s not like we formed Madhouse
directly from Joe’s production either. When Mushi Pro went under,
a company called Sōeisha was born. Now it’s known as Sunrise. I worked as assistant to one of its founders,
[Yoshinori] Kishimoto, on some Wonder 3 episodes he directed. He told me about his plan to launch
a new company if Mushi Pro went under. His studio would have producers only
and recruit animators for each project. So he wasn’t going to take the animators
and the rest of drawing staff. I wondered what would happen to the Kunimatsu staff,
like [Osamu] Dezaki and [Masami] Hata. They were all going to lose their jobs. I wanted a place where I could
work alongside creators like them. So, after consulting with Dezaki,
we created Madhouse. Dezaki was difficult to work with,
but that’s what made it fun, you know? He and I, we liked to hang out,
and we played mahjong together a lot. As far as I recall, we had plenty more
private talks than work interactions. We mostly had pointless discussions,
what we liked, disliked… [Akio] Sugino isn’t like that at all,
he’s very work-focussed. I don’t know if he likes anything besides work! Compared to him, Dezaki and I…
it’s not like we weren’t serious about work. But we liked to spend our
free time doing dumb stuff. Ashita no Joe played a big part
in the origin story of Madhouse. And because the 1st season ended halfway
with the death of Rikiishi –the protagonist’s rival– …some people at Madhouse wanted
to adapt the rest of the manga. For Dezaki and Sugino in particular,
Ashita no Joe was the starting point of Madhouse. And they didn’t want to leave
the sequel to anybody else. But I just didn’t want to
make the Ashita no Joe sequel. I told them “If you want to make
Ashita no Joe 2, go ahead without me.” They ended up leaving
to establish studio Annapuru. And I stayed at Madhouse
working on other projects. I agree that Ashita no Joe 2
is better made than first season. The animation quality is way higher. But I still think the 1st season is more emotional. Animators who were used to Tezuka’s abbreviated
style struggled to create something so realistic. That’s why the quality
of the episodes is uneven. But their attempt to do the impossible
resulted in incredible energy… …that flows in Dezaki’s amazing directing. So, even if the animation
quality doesn’t really compare, …the 1st season is emotionally more powerful. I thought this energy was better left unpolished. I told Dezaki to leave and take
the Madhouse animators who he needed. So, our most skilled animators left for Annapuru. I was left with the remaining staff. After consulting with a few people
who weren’t at the studio yet, we put together the “2nd generation Madhouse”. [Yoshiaki] Kawajiri was working from home back then,
and I asked him to come help us at the studio. I told him that with Dezaki and Sugino gone,
we desperately needed him. Thus, the Maruyama-Kawajiri system was born. Regarding the “settei” (design) credit,
no one really knows what it means. I don’t think the job actually exists. It’s a convenient credit you slap on someone
who’s done a bit of work here and there. As far as I’m concerned,
it’s mostly related to writing. But it’s not an actual position. If you look it up in the dictionary,
I don’t think any actual job description turns up. It exists as an anime term, I guess. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, right? Like, if the scriptwriter suddenly falls ill, someone has to take their place
so we can stay on schedule. This sort of work is almost never
stuff I wanted to do in the first place. Mostly Dezaki just asked me to do this or that, and I complied happily. But I don’t think I was ever scriptwriter material. Harmagedon was born of Rintarō’s will to change
Japanese animation, using [Katsuhiro] Ōtomo’s art. As for Ōtomo, he had taken an interest in animation,
although he was in the middle of a manga serialization. I met him recently, and he talked
about all the energy he had back then. He spent three days on manga,
and three on animation. He said “Now I have to choose one”. But he was young back then,
and he wanted to do both. His character design on Harmagedon
was the opposite of what I wanted, though. He hadn’t really drawn manga
about psychic powers yet. He was more into realistic depictions
of war, or downtown drifters… Naturally his art wasn’t “pretty”. But I thought that women
in animation had to be pretty. I asked him to make the princess Luna cuter, with bigger eyes. “That’s animation”, I said! We argued constantly. Although Ōtomo is definitely great
at drawing boys or old men… In the end, he refused to change Luna’s design any
further, and Rintarō asked me to cut him some slack. So we settled on the appearance
you see in the movie. After that, he continued to dabble in animation
and his designs improved a lot. I think the power of his art,
its sense of realism, went on to be a major influence for Japanese animators,
like Kōji Morimoto or Takashi Nakamura. When Harmagedon was over,
Ōtomo still wanted to work on anime for a bit. So I let him pick a short to direct in the Neo Tokyo omnibus,
which became “The Order to Stop Construction”. He said that he chose it because it was
the one story in there he could make. I think he picked up some confidence,
because then he wanted to direct Akira himself. We couldn’t do it at Madhouse, though,
so Tokyo Movie, a much bigger company, took charge. Back then, the American youth
had taken a liking in Japanese animation. I’d say being suddenly hit with our violence-focused
anime caused a bit of a culture shock. They found it interesting. Some of our Madhouse staff were particularly fond
of this kind of things, and had made it their specialty. Kawajiri’s work, like Wicked City,
was especially sensational. It had heads flying and blood
spilling all over the place. It was a work brimming with young
energy and recognized as such. We were searching for new forms of expression,
something beautiful and breathtaking. This resonated with young Hollywood directors,
and they began to like Japanese anime. But originally, it was Hollywood live-action movies
that influenced Kawajiri and Rintarō. I find it interesting that there’s this relationship
of mutual stimulus between them and us. Even now, when it comes
to business, I’m completely useless. So, calling me a producer… I can’t say I’m innocent on all accounts,
but I don’t think it’s quite right either. A producer takes care of financial
matters and oversees the pipeline. But I’m mostly clueless at managing money
and time, so I can’t call myself a producer. Like, at my current Studio M2,
the actual producer would be [Tarō] Maki. I’m only involved in the “making things” side of
production, so I call myself a “creative producer”. It’s become my selling point –
I’m all about creation, and I don’t care for the rest! There wasn’t any specific “Madhouse” style. We’d basically just get requests from publishers
or authors, and then choose what to go with. It’s not like we had specific policies
at one or another time in the studio’s life. There might be clusters of similar works in
Madhouse’s history, but I never paid any attention to it. I just thought “What would work for Kawajiri?”
or “[Morio] Asaka could do this one”, and picked projects accordingly. But I always hated the idea that
a Madhouse anime “had to be” this or that. I’d accept whatever request we had coming in, and I didn’t have time to think about
what I wanted to do personally. The requests kept coming without
a break, so we kept doing our best. As much as possible, I want everyone
to get behind the director’s vision for their work. But of course, not all directors are prodigies. You also have the beginners, working
hard to become full-fledged directors. I can’t leave them on their own, obviously. Of all the projects I’ve worked on,
Perfect Blue was among the hardest. And I felt like I needed to get that across. This wasn’t something
I could do with regular animation. I was thinking it might be better to entrust it
to someone who wasn’t an anime director. Just then, I came upon Satoshi Kon, a reputedly
brilliant mangaka doing some animation work. I met him and it turned out he was eager to make
his directorial debut, so I gave him Perfect Blue. In my opinion, it ended up being
a great and stimulating movie. Before it was even finished, we were
already discussing the next one… Millennium Actress turned out amazing. Even if we hadn’t recouped
the costs for the previous film, or even finished the project,
we were already planning the next one. There was always this challenge of making
something different, new ideas with new developments. We got along great, so we
never stopped moving on together. All of his works put us in the red, though. That’s why he was always on a new
project before the current one was over. But still, he wanted to continue creating, and I wanted
to see what he would create, so we went ahead anyway. Thinking back, it seems like he was in a hurry… He declared that since
we always lost money on his films, he’d make an anime series
without wasting any resources. “I’ll supervise the series,
but leave everything to our young directors, so it will be done in the blink of an eye!”,
he said. I was like, “OK, let’s do it!”,
and we settled on Paranoia Agent. But he took charge of more and more stuff himself. I kept reminding him of his promise. And he’d say “If I don’t do a little more,
it’ll be too hard for the youngsters”. Eventually I think he left one episode
to Rintarō and did the rest himself… Getting tricked by Kon was a kind of routine,
but one that I liked! For The Dream Machine, the original idea
was to make a robot anime movie with battles. But then Kon said he wanted to do a musical… …with a red, yellow and green robot,
so I guess it’s still a robot anime… But he passed away, and
the project came to a halt. I thought about entrusting it to someone else,
but Kon had already completed some sections. Of course we had to use those parts.
It was his movie, so it was only fair. But if someone else completed the movie,
it would no longer be Kon’s work. And Kon’s work would be
a nuisance for the new director. Eventually I abandoned this project altogether. For Kon’s sake, I decided
not to make this movie. I first came upon Mamoru Hosoda watching
his episodes of Ojamajo Doremi Dokkaan!. I was so shocked that I called him right away. I said “If you do that on TV, the quality difference
with the other episodes is too obvious! You should save that stuff for movies!” To which he replied “Mind your own business!” But it’s my job to meddle
in other people’s affairs, right? Anyway, when Kon was making Paprika,
I went to visit the book’s author, [Yasutaka] Tsutsui. I didn’t know if the movie would perform well. So I asked him to let us adapt
just one more popular novel of his. We settled on
The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. Then, I remembered Ojamajo Doremi. You see, Hosoda’s Doremi had
a character voiced by actress Tomoyo Harada. She also played the protagonist in Nobuhiko Ōbayashi’s
live-action adaptation of The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. I thought that if I was to make the book
into an animated movie, Hosoda was the only one I could ask. I convinced him saying “It’s like
Ojamajo Doremi but for adults!” We came to an agreement and started
working on The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. If not for Doremi, I probably wouldn’t have asked
Hosoda to make The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. At some point, Madhouse got too big. There were too many people
for me to handle by myself. So I decided to start again
from zero and created MAPPA. But in the span of five years, MAPPA got too big,
so I entrusted it to the young staff members. Manabu Ōtsuka was just about
the age I was when I founded Madhouse. So I left him the company and asked
him to take care of it like it was Madhouse. I established this Studio M2,
and I’ve been here since. There’s only so much energy
one person can muster throughout their life. I’d like to leave the rest to the next generation,
like Ōtsuka at MAPPA or Shintarō Maruyama here at M2. I’m gonna kick back and
enjoy the rest of my life! When Mushi Pro shut down, we gathered the Dezaki
squad and made a new team called Madhouse. We were, in a way, the opposite
of a company making products. I can’t say we always came out on top financially,
but we were all about making anime. I think that’s what still ties us all together. Osamu Tezuka is the reason I’m here, and
the reason Japanese animation itself got so far. A lot of people who got their start at Madhouse went on
to create their own companies and their own works. Now, they make for an important
part of Japanese animation. I’ll be happy if they can all
continue to create interesting work. I hope to be the bad role model that helps them find their
own method, since that’s how I see Osamu Tezuka. This concludes our interview with Madhouse founder
Masao Maruyama. In the next episode, we’ll dive into the mind of one of
the very directors he helped rise to fame, one who contributed a lot to the worldwide anime boom. Want to learn more about studio Madhouse? Make sure to subscribe to the channel
so you don’t miss the next interviews! A place that has created legendary anime for over 50 years. A home to some of anime’s most famous creators: MADHOUSE What makes this place and the people
who have been there so special? I’m Yoshiaki Kawajiri, an anime director. Although I haven’t really directed
anything in the last ten years or so… …I’ll continue storyboarding anime
as long as offers keep coming. He is a founding member of Studio Madhouse and a director… who was on the front lines the first American anime boom with works such as Wicked City, Ninja Scroll, and Vampire Hunter D: Yoshiaki Kawajiri. While he started working on anime in the late 60s,
he is still active today, storyboarding episodes on beloved shows
such as Frieren, Overlord, Sonny Boy, and Jujutsu Kaisen. Let’s dive into the mind of
this legendary anime director. Well, I’d liked drawing ever since I was a kid. So I thought about doing something
drawing-related, like becoming a mangaka. But first, I needed to get better,… …and that’s when I heard of a company
making animation, called Mushi Pro. I thought I’d do my studies there,
and then move on to becoming a mangaka. Osamu Tezuka is god. He’s the reason the manga and
anime culture in Japan has come this far. Even today, nobody can rival him. There was a time when a salaryman reading
manga on his commute would get mocked. But today, manga is considered
a normal hobby, not different from movies. This could never have happened if Tezuka
hadn’t drawn such a wide range of works. As a director,
I wanted to make movies for adults,… …since Tezuka’s own works weren’t
tailor-made for children. They could be enjoyed by adults as well. I guess I wanted to take on
that legacy myself, in a way! That’s why I tackled adult genres:
Tezuka was doing it too. Working in animation, I started to get
the appeal of movement and time. They were what made filmmaking fun. Eventually, that became more
interesting to me than manga. In the beginning, basically
I just loved making animation move. Like, that’s what animation
is supposed to do, right? In this regard, I found Tōei movies like
Orochi, the Eight-Headed Dragon… …or The Little Norse Prince fascinating. I too wanted to make this kind of
constantly moving animation. Osamu Dezaki’s style made
heavy use of freeze frames. It’s a really cool limited animation technique
that isn’t found in overseas production. But whenever I saw a freeze frame in the storyboard,
I couldn’t help but make it into moving animation. That was really reckless of me, but
Dezaki had a big heart, so he mostly let it slide. He’d say, “Well, that’s good too”,
and let me do as I wanted. I guess I just loved movement too much.
Couldn’t be helped! When Mushi Pro was about to go under,
a few of us gathered to establish a new studio… …a place where we could make
animation the way we wanted to. At the time, I was working at Mushi’s studio in Shakujii,
where we made Kunimatsu-sama no Otōridai. Basically, the Shakujii staff
all moved on to Madhouse. In my case, I had a lot of respect
for Dezaki and [Akio] Sugino. So when they invited me to join their
new studio, Madhouse, I gladly accepted. Dezaki was this amazing
up-and-coming director, you see? I still remember the blast I felt when
I first watched Ashita no Joe’s pilot film. As for [Masao] Maruyama, I’ll admit
I never really understood his role in this! He was credited for settei (designs),
but I have no idea what he was doing exactly. Even in the early days of Madhouse,
he was actually doing settei rather than production. When Dezaki, Sugino and others left,
it was like half of the studio suddenly fell apart. But then Maruyama decided to start anew
with fresh members, with me atop that list. That’s when he became
the studio’s president. The first work of this new Madhouse was
the anime adaptation of Natsu e no Tobira. It’s a shōjo manga by Keiko Takemiya. Maruyama basically came up to me saying,
“We’re doing this, so lend us a hand”. Back when I worked at Mushi Pro, everyone was
super skilled, so there was no need for a layout system. But for Natsu e no Tobira,
Maruyama asked me to rework the entire film. So I drew layouts that took some liberties
with director Mori Masaki’s storyboard. I guess Masaki’s storyboard had
a bit of a masculine touch to it. And Maruyama wanted me to
bring out Takemiya’s style a bit more. But then, if I only drew layouts for some parts, 
the whole thing would be unbalanced. So I ended up drawing the layout and
first key animation of each cut of the film… alone. Wow, that’s amazing! Well, I had a lot of energy back then.
It wasn’t that big a deal. Later, I handled the layout system
again on Wicked City. On Midnight Eye Goku,… …I left the layouts to [Hiroshi] Hamasaki
since we were making the movies together. But other than that, I took care of
the layout system for most of my directorial work. Compared to now, the film stock
had terrible sensitivity back then. Not to mention there were few
color options for painting the cells. At their best, even Ghibli probably didn’t
have more than 200 to 300 colors available. Madhouse in Wicked City’s
time had around 40 to 50 colors. So we had to weigh our options
carefully when deciding on colors. Blue is where we had the most options and it was
the most visible color on film, so we used it a lot. Especially in Wicked City, where the color blue
conveyed the “dark atmosphere” of the cold city. When it comes to the lighting,I tried
different live-action film inspired techniques,… …and some worked especially well. Effects of metal and glass, for example,
printed well on film, so I used them often. The original Wicked City novel had
rather erotic representations of demons. That kind of became its selling point. I thought about how to show
this aspect in anime, and well… I was 36 at the time, you know. I wanted to make animation that
people of my generation would want to watch. So I drew erotic scenes
that would work as animation. I grew up watching
Hollywood movies and TV series. So I wanted my work to impact
the people who made and watched those. All of this became Wicked City. I always made sure the setting was
accessible to international audiences. Even Vampire Hunter D or Ninja Scroll were accessible
without any knowledge of Japanese period drama. You could always understand
the plot just by watching. Vampire Hunter D was actually
supposed to be released in English only. So the music, sound direction and effects
were handled directly by an American staff. The picture was entirely
produced in Japan by Madhouse. And a San Francisco-based
studio took care of the sound. But we were kind of concerned by the differences
between Japanese and American sound effects… …and the fact that the American staff
weren’t used to anime. A Japanese sound director
ended up joining the American team. But there were still some things
we had to correct ourselves in Japan. When I was a kid, I loved John Sturges’
The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape. To me, THAT was cinema. Then I got really into
George Roy Hill’s movies, like The Sting… …or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. When I was older, I saw the release of great stuff like
Blade Runner, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Mad Max. I especially love John McTiernan’s
movies, like Die Hard or Predator. We’re the same generation,
him and I, so I can relate to his works. As for Japanese period drama,
I’m a big fan of Hideo Gosha’s work. He has a very unorthodox style… …with sexy characters, men and women alike! I’d recommend Bandits vs. Samurai Squadron
or Hunter in the Dark. Well, I am a man of pictures to the very end. So I try as much as possible
to handle the chara design on my works. Until Vampire Hunter D, I almost
always did the original chara design at least. I don’t think you can fully express
an image through words alone. To me, the way I draw my characters
is key to understanding them. This way, a full-fledged character designer can look at
my original draft to understand my intention and refine it. As Madhouse grew bigger, new creators
like [Yoshinori] Kanemori began to rise. As a result, the whole studio
shifted gears to doing series,… …and new projects emerged that
weren’t related to me. Madhouse was handling more and more works
that didn’t really seem to fit my style, like CLAMP’s. I met with CLAMP’s [Nanase] Ōkawa a lot. I think she had a lot of
concerns about me at first… …probably because she knew me
as the director of Wicked City and stuff. But I’d drawn key animation on
works intended for female audiences… …not to mention Natsu e no Tobira’s layouts. So I managed without much trouble. And even though Ōkawa and CLAMP
in general probably had their doubts about me,… …they mostly let me do it my way. In the end, animation is mostly
adaptations of pre-existing works. So my ability to handle the original work relies
partly on things I’ve learned over the years,… …ever since working as a key animator. The director has the essential role of
bringing out the best of the original work. So I always made the most of
what was interesting in the original. This way, both the authors and
the fans are happy. There, it doesn’t make a difference
if the author is male or female. There are genres I’m less
comfortable with, though. Like, I never got any offer
to adapt a gag manga! So I think I’d struggle with that. Oh right, I haven’t talked about [Morio] Asaka yet,
but I think he is incredibly talented. I’ve always thought I’d love to see him
make an original animated movie of his own. But he’s slow, you know! In fact I only joined
the 2nd Cardcaptor Sakura movie. Because he came asking for my help
to finish the storyboard on time. On the other hand, I think his sense
of the delicate is absolutely unmatched. Yeah, I worked on Frieren not long ago. Also, The Gene of AI,
the one on the poster over there. Actually I worked on everything on this wall! Keiichirō Saitō is interesting, I think.
He’s definitely got a unique sensibility. I first noticed him on
[Shingo] Natsume’s Sonny Boy. I found there was a kind
of new sensation to his work. And I wondered how he would handle
a work such as Frieren, if he could do it, even. But he did, and brilliantly so.
It turned out amazing. Madhouse occasionally takes
the color of its main directors. Most recently, there is the director of
Gold Kingdom and Water Kingdom. She brings a new color to the studio. Frieren’s Saitō is also of a different type. I’d say the works we make here
reflect the style of their directors. When Madhouse was smaller,
roughly from Natsu e no Tobira to Goku,… …the productions revolved
mainly around my works. Then we started making more series. By the time I was working
on Vampire Hunter D,… …there were so many series that even
I couldn’t tell what it was that we were making! I was still sort of in the loop,
like someone would come to me and say,… …”Hey, this is [Mamoru] Hosoda,
he’s directing our new movie”. But quickly, works were getting done
without me knowing anything about it. My position as main director faded
as the studio grew bigger… …and started making all kinds of different anime. Maruyama too wanted to gather promising
new directors around a wide range of works. So a lot of directors made
their debut at Madhouse. [Satoshi] Kon made his first feature film at Madhouse,
and if I remember correctly, Hosoda as well. This place did end up kickstarting
plenty of directors’ careers, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever properly
taught anyone the ropes of animation. It’s something you get
by watching others draw. You can learn a lot looking at key frames. Plus today, it’s become easy to play videos
on repeat or slow-motion,… …so I don’t think I have much to teach! But it’s true that [Takeshi] Koike has
developed a style close to my own. I think his visual sense is better than mine,
his pictures are more refined. But yeah, he might be the closest
there is to my way of animation. Like, if they were to make a Ninja Scroll sequel,
I think he’d be the best choice to direct it. Oh, there’s also [Tensai] Okamura, who was animator
on most of my movies. He always did great work. Lately he’s been directing
a My Hero Academia movie. I hope he’ll continue to deliver! I can’t believe Madhouse
is still at it after 50 years! It’s amazing that we managed
to stay in business this long. Although I can’t tell who
pulls the strings anymore. It’s a place that has seen many directors
grow and many works come to life. It’s even become a reference
for fans overseas. In a word, Madhouse is a company
that has made a lot of anime! In the end, I think that’s the most
remarkable thing about Madhouse. This concludes our interview with the legendary anime director Yoshiaki Kawajiri. In the next episode, we sit down with a director known for his extensive research and attention to detail: Sunao Katabuchi. Want to learn more about Studio Madhouse? Make sure to subscribe to the channel
so you don’t miss the next interviews! So, we’ve been told you love dinosaurs! Can you explain why? Oh, yeah! Well, it’s not like I have a favorite or anything. But the simple fact that creatures
like this existed is fascinating to me. I felt the same watching
Spielberg’s Jurassic Park. Like, “Wow, they were really here!” No human ever saw a live one, of course, But to think such gigantic
creatures once roamed the Earth… It’s kind of amazing, right? A place that has created legendary anime for over 50 years. A home to some of anime’s most famous creators: MADHOUSE What makes this place and the people
who have been there so special? I’m Sunao Katabuchi. At Madhouse, I’m mostly know for
directing Mai Mai Miracle and Black Lagoon. But this is far from the only work
I did under producer Masao Maruyama. Sunao Katabuchi, an anime director known for
the quality of his stories and his great attention to detail. He worked alongside director Hayao Miyazaki
on Kiki’s Delivery Service at Studio Ghibli before joining Studio Madhouse
at the president’s request, where he directed beloved works such as
Black Lagoon and Mai Mai Miracle. Let’s learn more about how he creates
such compelling stories! I was actually supposed to
make movies at Mushi Production. But for various reasons, it didn’t work out. So I joined Studio 4℃, which had the same
ambition of producing animated movies. The studio’s co-founder Eiko Tanaka was the line producer
when I worked on Kiki’s Delivery Service. We’d gotten along very well,
so I joined her at 4℃. There, I met Kōji Morimoto. Morimoto knew Katsuhiro Ōtomo
from working on Akira. And he invited me to join the
production of Ōtomo’s Memories at 4℃. So I hopped on midway for
the third short, Cannon Fodder. One of my jobs was providing
design material for the main cannon. Everything went through Ōtomo, of course. Cannon Fodder is 20 minutes long,
but all in a single cut. And it seems I was about the only one
capable of handling that kind of camera work. Apparently, Tanaka had that
in mind from the start. Anyway, that’s how I got to
participate in the production of Memories. Masao Maruyama happened to be
looking for me around the same time. Memories is an omnibus. 4℃ did the first and third short films. But Madhouse made the second film. And Maruyama was quite
surprised to find me there! He contacted me through a mutual
acquaintance and asked to talk with me. He was dealing with
various storyboards and scripts. He first asked if I wanted a job checking them. But I wanted to be on the
creators’ side of the production. So he showed me Madhouse’s projects
and asked, “Which one do you want in on?” So I chose Azuki-chan, a show about
the daily life of an elementary school girl. It was close to what I’d been doing
until then, so I decided to start with this. I’m not sure how I should tell
the tale of director Masayuki Kojima. But we worked side by side a lot on Azuki-chan. Not only that, but on several other anime series,
including Card Captor Sakura. Back then, it was a given that Kojima, Asaka,
or I would get the new series going. We were usually all present
on the first three episodes. I also did a lot of storyboarding on
Kojima’s later series. You could say we think alike, in a way,
so working with him went smoothly. Back then I was also working on
Chibi Maruko-chan at Nippon Animation. I went to Nippon Animation in the morning,
Madhouse at noon and back to Nippon Animation. I must have been traveling 60 miles a day! Asaka Morio isn’t very outspoken,
but he has Maruyama’s complete trust. Card Captor Sakura was actually supposed
to be the very first Madhouse-born project. Before, Madhouse only made anime as
a subcontractor for other companies. So this was going to be historic. It’s telling that Asaka was
entrusted with this responsibility. It shows how much Maruyama
recognized his “vitality”. Madhouse threw its all into this project. We were told not to spare
a single animation frame. Later other companies got involved and
the number of frames per episode was cut back to 4,000. But at first, we were told that we
could draw 8,000 frames per episode. On episode 3, I still had this leeway,
so I thought I’d go up to 10,000 frames. But I ended up way overboard
with 12,000 frames. Azuki-chan was about 4,000 frames an episode. So I took it to heart to make Sakura special. That’s why there’s so much movement in episode 3. Both Azuki-chan and Sakura show
the romance of an elementary school girl. But they’re two different works, so I thought
I had to express this in different ways. So I showed Sakura being in love
in a way that I believe fit her. It might look there’s a big emphasis on it,
but I think that’s what suits Card Captor Sakura. Back then, rather than emphasizing
my own style… …I prioritized finding an approach
that matched the original work. For each work, I’d browse through my own
possibilities to see what matched the work’s range. Madhouse produced very different
types of anime at the same time. So I naturally came to realize that
each work called for a different approach… …and that I needed to find within
myself the approach that fit best. Thanks to Madhouse, I was able
to develop this potential within myself. When I got my start, animation
was still mostly aimed at kids. There was always an encouraging
message that “Everything’s gonna be OK”. That’s because the audience
of children had yet to experience life. But it also meant that this
target audience would grow up. And for some people, life doesn’t
turn out like they thought it would. You have to consider them as well. To me,
that’s exactly where Black Lagoon aims at. Rock is a disillusioned Japanese salaryman. Chang is a Hong Kong police officer
turned gangster. Balalaika dreamed of
being an Olympic shooter… …but had to go into the army
and later joined the Russian mafia. They couldn’t live the life they wanted… …and come crashing into Roanapur,
an imaginary city in Southeast Asia. It’s a city full of people who
never got to be who they wanted to. Revy says of them, “They’re all dead”. But in truth, there are actually
people who live like this. I found it necessary to show
this sort of thing as well… ….given that the target audience
of anime was getting older. I originally planned to handle the series
composition and scripts for the show. Black Lagoon can take many
different colors depending on the episode. So Maruyama wanted to let
different directors try it their own way. But while writing the scenario, I realized that…. …those stories were
in fact tightly linked together. So I figured a single director would work
better and took on that responsibility. During pre-production, Black Lagoon
author Rei Hiroe visited us at Madhouse. We sprawled out on sofas in a meeting room
that felt like a parlor and talked about various stuff. The manga doesn’t depict much of
the backgrounds, especially landscapes. I particularly needed to know what
kind of scenery Roanapur would have. I wanted to find out Mr. Hiroe’s ideas,
so we discussed this a lot. For example, it’s hard to know where the city
was supposed to be without a “symbol”. So I suggested we add one.
We discussed a symbol like the Statue of Liberty, but liberty is so frail in Roanapur. Mr. Hiroe said, “Since it’s in Thailand,
how about a Buddha with no face?” Back then, the manga
was still around its 4th volume. So the manga hadn’t yet featured this statue. The statue first appeared in the anime
and later made its way back to the manga. It became the symbol of Roanapur
in both the manga and anime. If I remember correctly, I went location scouting
some time after we brainstormed with Mr. Hiroe. I went scouting with Maruyama. One of his hobbies is staying
at many different hotels. We went to Hong Kong and southern Vietnam. Then we went to Cambodia on one of Maruyama’s
impulses, and Hanoi in northern Vietnam. I remember in Cambodia,
we bought some…not durians… We bought local fruits that
we ate while walking around. I have fond memories of that trip. In the manga, Roanapur gives this
“end of the Vietnam War” kind of vibe. So I first took inspiration from Saigon. I have a friend who has done
a lot of research on battleships. He has many foreign documents on the subject. I borrowed photo books of
Elco PT boats and U-Boots… …from this researcher,
his name is Yoshifuru Ōtsuka. I also know someone who has drill purpose guns. They’re real Russian guns that have
been altered so they can’t be fired. Another person had gear
to protect soldiers from… …neutron or hydrogen bomb radiation
in case of World War III. I tried the gear on. It felt really symbolic. I had Balalaika and her subordinates
wear the gear in episode 21. I tried to remind people of modern,
even current historical events… …like the war in Afghanistan. I wanted the anime to
bear the weight of this reality. Mr. Hiroe himself thought a lot
about the series’ backbone,… …and helped flesh out elements
that didn’t appear in the manga. I couldn’t really handle
Black Lagoon all by myself. So I was looking for people
I could rely on to support me. Tetsurō Araki turned out to be an amazing help. He handled episodes 8 through 10 really well. But then Maruyama took him
away to work on Death Note! It was way harder with him gone. Episode 9 was his first time
storyboarding by himself on the series. So it took quite some time. I’d point out where he was off
and go over every scene cut by cut. Explaining what needed
corrections took roughly a day. Then, he’d work on it for one or two days
and bring me a brand-new version. That’s how it went for the car chase scene
with Roberta in episode 9, for example. In the end, I think he really found
his own approach to Black Lagoon. Animation allows us to draw
things that don’t actually exist. Some people take photos and
get pictures using only tracing. But you can draw what doesn’t exist,
so at first I wanted to create fantasies. However, say you’re talking about
a fantasy land. You’re wondering what a house is like in this land. You end up basing the design
on something that really exists. Then I started thinking,
isn’t reality more interesting? I realized another possibility of animation: To draw things that once
existed but were lost to time. The Mai-Mai Miracle novel states that
“A thousand years ago, the capital of this land stood here”. But it’s doesn’t explain what that city was like. However, with animation, I could show it,
or rather, I wanted to. So I did, and I felt an amazing
sense of accomplishment. That’s why I’m currently working
on a movie depicting the Heian era. I hope it’ll bring me a new kind of satisfaction. Mai-Mai Miracle is set in Yamaguchi prefecture,
and I’d never been there. But unlike the fictional city of Roanapur… …there are people
who live or were born in Yamaguchi. So I had to get a clear grasp
of what life there looked like. Except the story isn’t set in
the present time, but in 1955. So in order to properly recreate
the scenery from this time… …I did a lot of research. Specifically, that’s when I
started researching the Heian period. In the original novel, Shinko’s grandfather says
to her “Now, only wheat fields stretch around here…” “…but a thousand years ago,
there stood the capital of the land of Suō”. If it was a thousand years ago,
then it was during the Heian period. So I needed to know who ruled the land
of Suō at this time of the Heian period. As it turns out, it was Kiyohara no Motosuke,
the father of court lady and writer Sei Shōnagon. By chance, the house where
he lived during his time in Suō… …had just been exhumed when
we went location scouting. You could see the holes of the six pillars. And I got a good look at the house where… …Kiyohara no Motosuke
and the young Sei Shōnagon lived. The head of the Hōfu city library in
Yamaguchi was a dialect expert, actually. He read out every line in
the movie in the Yamaguchi dialect. We recorded him and
had the voice actors listen. He even came to the recording sessions
when he could make the time. One day he couldn’t come, but he still checked
the recordings and pointed out the mistakes. But the voice actor for this part wasn’t available,
so I had to replace him in some places! This is an Edo period commentary
on The Pillow Book. You can see the commentaries up here. In the thousand years since The Pillow Book’s writing, the commentaries kind of piled up. Still today, we feel the urge
to write new commentaries, as if the previous ones suddenly seemed off. Pretty much everything here is commentaries. This is The Pillow Book
I used for research on Mai-Mai Miracle. It’s full of sticky notes… They were for Kotringo to use as references
when writing the movie’s theme song. She did end up using several words
straight out the The Pillow Book in the lyrics. My projects at Madhouse were all made
one at a time with roughly the same team. So for example [Shigeru] Fujita
would for sure be involved. At Madhouse, each project would only
get started once the current one was over. So Mai-Mai Miracle had a lot a staff just out of
Black Lagoon, like Fumie Muroi or Kunio Katsuki. I entrusted them with
directing parts of Mai-Mai Miracle. Working together on the same projects is what
I’d called the “Madhouse way” of production. Back then, Madhouse subcontracted
a lot of work to DR Movie. At some point, they too
started making their own works. Maruyama and I went to South Korea
to share some advice with them. We talked with them on several occasions and
went to Korea to watch rushes of their productions. In a way, the people at DR are also part of
this “Madhouse family” that did everything together. Their president, Mr. Jeong, often came to visit us
at Madhouse, and we’d grab a meal together. I was supposed to work at Madhouse
on a project called MM9, but it was hard to make for various reasons. So in its place,
I suggested In This Corner of the World. This was just after Madhouse was
bought out by Nippon Television. So Maruyama and I left
the studio and set out to establish MAPPA. If I didn’t end up joining MAPPA,
it was actually on Maruyama’s advice. At his suggestion I established my own studio, Contrail,
and through it work on MAPPA’s projects. The Madhouse I knew is very
different from the current one. Because back then, Maruyama was
at the heart of the studio’s creative process. He always checked every script and storyboard,
and went to every recording session. In a word, he had total creative control. As for me, the trust I put in him was
the reason I joined Madhouse altogether. It’s also why I moved on to MAPPA
without a second thought. Our interview with Sunao Katabuchi
has come to an end. In our next episode, look forward to an interview with the director behind many blockbuster anime: Death Note director Tetsurô Araki! I said, “But why?! My storyboard
is way funnier than the script!” And Maruyama replied, “If your storyboard is
this funny, then the script is THIS funny!” I ended up crying at the all rush. I said, “It shouldn’t be like that!
It should look much cooler!” I felt like if I were a Death Note fan,
I wouldn’t accept this anime version. Mustering all the humanity left in me, I stopped
myself and kicked some cardboard instead. Hirao came up with this great scene where
the movement of each boob avoids bullets.  It was really stupid! A place that has created legendary anime for over 50 years. A home to some of anime’s most famous creators: MADHOUSE What makes this place and the people
who have been there so special? I’m Testurō Araki, an anime director. I’m mostly known for Death Note,
Guilty Crown, Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress… …and season 1 to 3 of Attack on Titan. Before achieving unprecedented success with Attack on Titan season 1 to 3, Tetsurou Araki got his start at studio Madhouse, and first made a name for himself as the director of Death Note and Highschool of the Dead. How did he climb the ladder to world-wide fame? Let’s ask him! Madhouse is the first anime company
I worked for. I spent ten years there,
and it taught me what “anime” is. It’s a place brimming with energy and I loved it. It’s filled with precious memories. When I joined Madhouse, I was assigned to the Cardcaptor Sakura team. I learned directing under [Morio] Asaka. I didn’t know him before I joined Madhouse. That’s when I realized
how wonderful his works were. I learned a lot from him as director. Asaka’s style is delicate and lyrical. And it makes for a great sense
of drama and high-quality layouts. He does carry on Madhouse’s
legacy of high-quality mature anime. But he adds his own catchy touch,
his sense of cute and fun. He took the traditional techniques of Madhouse… …and translated them to accommodate
the taste of current anime fans. He makes high-quality work,
but in a way that will please the viewers. That’s the role his works came to play, I think. On Cardcaptor Sakura, Masato Takayanagi
worked for Asaka as a sort of assistant director. He went on to direct several
Galaxy Angel series. Basically, I learned directing from those two. I mean stuff like how to read
and fill out a timing sheet. Or, how to use a stopwatch
to time the dialogue. At first you don’t know when to push the button. So really the most basic of basic techniques. But Asaka and Takayanagi
were masters of this. So I always applied their teachings to the letter. People told me,
“I’ve never seen such a clean timing sheet!” All I did was use a ruler,
but strangely, a lot of people didn’t do that. The timing sheet conveys
the intent of the director, you see. I learned that by watching Asaka work. It’s not like he was telling me
to do things a certain way, though. For example, piles of production material
were laying around in the studio. I learned a lot by going through them. I think it was episode 1 of Chobits. Asaka did the timing sheet himself. I went through the episode
from the first to the last cut. And I was surprised by what I noticed. Say the last cut is 7 seconds and is only
described in the storyboard as a zoom out. But actually,
there’s a still shot at the end. Looking at the timing sheet, I’d see that
it does end with a 2-second still shot. I looked at this stuff thoroughly. It became the foundation for
my own directing methods. The basis I learned from Asaka and
Takayanagi still makes up 70% of my methods. The other 30% are the product of
my own ingenuity. Even when I worked as a production assistant… …I was drawn to storyboarding and directing. Like, if I had to write a notice saying
the parking lot was unavailable for the day. I’d always try to make it funny or cool looking. People would say, “Who wrote this one?”
“That’s Araki, what an idiot!” I did it to make people laugh. I’d draw an exploding planet… …and the guy being blasted delivered
the message. They must have been funny enough… …because people suggested
I try storyboarding. It was just small bits here and there,
but that’s how I got started. In the end, I managed to move on to
episode direction early in my career. I was just getting started as an episode director. I didn’t have the skills to improve
the quality of a storyboard yet. But I was in my early twenties,
and I knew how to make fun gags. Nowadays viewers might not find
them so funny. But back then I knew neither fear nor doubt. I believed that anything I found funny,
the viewers would for sure find funny too! It’s important not to hesitate too much. On Galaxy Angel,
I liked that I was mostly left alone. I was even allowed to fail. One time I made a terrible episode,
not funny, not cool, not anything. I apologized,
and I got away with a simple warning. It’s not often you’re given this many chances. I love Galaxy Angel so much because
it helped me mature as a director. [Masao] Maruyama’s check was strict. So going through it was always a big deal. I was the type to change what was
written in the script without much care. When directing a comedy… …there are times when it’s better
not to follow the script exactly. But I was just plain rude to the scriptwriters. I didn’t have a clue what
they’d decided on during the meetings. I changed stuff that everyone had approved. Now I can talk about it like this… …but back then, it pissed me off that
Maruyama would correct everything I did. Now, I get his point. When he didn’t like the script,
Araki just changed everything and caused trouble. It’s true, we fought all the time! I said, “But why?!” “My storyboard is way funnier than the script!” And he replied, “If your storyboard is this funny,
then the script is THIS funny!” Like five times funnier, you know! “Why won’t you just respect the script?!”,
I asked. I told him what he found funny, I didn’t. It was unconvincing and lame.
I made him redo everything! I was young and I hated
being always told what to do. I’d try to compromise, saying
“I’ll correct this, but let me do that my way”. But he just wouldn’t budge. He was like,
“Come on! Just follow the script!” I always said, “You don’t have to follow the script
if you’re funnier, but you’re not!” “You’re not even on the same level.” Well, he really is the one
I had to fight with the most! I just resented him more and more every time. He’d leave post-it notes
with corrections on the storyboard. Like, “Is this gag necessary?” Or, “This comes out of nowhere, I don’t get it.” Later, I worked with [Yoshiyuki] Tomino
on Gundam: Reconguista in G. He had the same post-it note system. When I saw the notes, I got nostalgic. It had been a while! Tomino and Maruyama are the same age… …so I figured it must be a generational thing. But anyway, I was grateful for it. I started directing on comedies,
and it turned out to be a lot of fun. But originally, I wanted to make realistic
anime with a lot of cool and scary stuff. My first opportunity to do so was Gungrave… …which is a work I care deeply for,
it has a lot of substance. But I think my skills weren’t up to the challenge. There’s this thing called the “all rush.” Everyone gathers to watch
a completed episode. On Gungrave, I’d end up
crying at the all rush for my episodes. I said stuff like, “It shouldn’t be like that!”
“It should look much cooler!” Anyway, it was really frustrating. So I worked twice as hard on Black Lagoon after this. When I directed episode 9, the one on Roberta, I realized a lot of things. Those are lessons that
have stayed with me to this day. I understood that quality
isn’t born from genius… …but from the accumulation
of relentless efforts by serious people. I could really feel that on Black Lagoon. Because I don’t think there was a single
genius on the staff of this series, me included. But they were all serious
people doing serious work. And this effort suddenly gave birth
to the creature known as “quality”. This was an important experience for me. Wait, no, [Sunao] Katabuchi is a genius. But I’m not, is why I’m saying this. Maybe the last 10% of my process
relies on a flash of genius. But the first 90% are just honest efforts. As I recall, Madhouse had
a lot of anime on its plate that year. All our directors were busy. So I said, “Why don’t you let me direct it?” Back then I didn’t have the career
of someone you’d entrust Death Note with. So the discussion ended on
“No way that’s happening!” But several weeks, maybe months later… …I was called in and asked
“You’d really do it?” I said, “Of course” and became the director. If someone like me ended up
in charge of Death Note… …it meant the Madhouse staff
already had their hands full. But it was my directorial debut,
it wasn’t going to go perfectly anyway. I thought I was bound to fail,
so I just dived in. The circumstances didn’t matter
as long as I could direct the series. Plus, [Masaru] Kitao joined as
character designer, and he’s reliable. So I jumped into this without any hesitation. I’d always fuss over the storyboard,
even if it meant messing up the schedule. That crunched the time available
for animation and what came after. Each episode spent roughly
a month in the making. All because of me. I thought it was my role as director
to live up to the viewers’ expectations. And I felt that, if I were a Death Note fan,
I wouldn’t accept this anime version. And that’s really important. Stuff like a messy episode,
or an unsatisfying picture… I just couldn’t bring myself to air it this way. I’d go to Kitao, the chief animation director,
and ask him to correct entire cuts… …or else the episode couldn’t air. For the storyboard I’d say, “If this scene isn’t powerful, there’s no point in animating it.” Caring about this is normal, but there wasn’t enough time in the schedule. That production deadline would be
unthinkable by today’s standards. Everybody is shocked when
they learn how tight it was. They can’t believe it. Given the popularity of
the Death Note manga… …you’d except a carefully made anime. Nowadays, the preparation
would be way more thorough. I never wanted to give
Death Note a comedy tone. I always tried to make it a cool entertainment. But one day it hit me. Overdoing it actually made
the whole thing really funny. So I started to lean a bit
into this direction, visually speaking. You’d have a serious scene, with like a murder,
everybody talking about important stuff… But for some reason,
you’d feel like bursting with laughter. At some point, I realized
Death Note had moments like this. I mean the manga.
That’s how I felt reading it. And I don’t think it’s a misinterpretation.
It truly made me laugh! That’s where my experience
in comedy anime proved useful. I’ve worked with [Takayuki] Hirao on my most
important pieces and was always happy with it. On Death Note, he directed episode 36,
the second to last episode. That episode turned out really funny. I’d never seen anything that was
so serious yet made me laugh so much. I like it to the point that I’d probably
choose it to represent the whole series. I later worked with Hirao on
Highschool of the Dead, etc. He’s one of my closest colleagues. As for [Kentarō] Hashimoto,
he was always extremely talented. He was a talented young producer
at Madhouse. That’s probably why he
was assigned Death Note. I still think very highly of him, but back then,
we actually fought all the time! It’s the only thing I remember us doing.
I couldn’t bear to even see his face. So Death Note was probably
a disheartening experience for him too. Speaking to him pissed me off so much…
One time, I grabbed his phone. I thought pulverizing it against
the wall would sure be refreshing. Mustering all the humanity left in me, I stopped myself and kicked
some cardboard instead. So yeah, things got pretty heated. But looking back on it,
those are actually good memories. Later, when I had trouble on some work,
I’ve called out to him for help. I’ve grown to like and respect him a lot. But at the time, we didn’t get along. When I was at Madhouse, we didn’t make a lot of stuff designed
to catch the eye of anime fans. And Maruyama wasn’t
thrilled about this project. But I said, “I’ll do it!” There was this great anime back then, Toradora. And I loved Masayoshi Tanaka’s work on it. So when he reached out to me,
I didn’t hesitate. We worked on Highschool of the Dead
as an actual duo, back to back. That’s a memory I still cherish. It’s not only his pictures which are great. He’s also a leader for the on-site staff. He understood my intent as a director
and showed me better ways of achieving it. And he’d always check on the animators
under him, sharing advice around. He’s an all-rounder who excels
at everything, communication included. I was sure he had a big career
ahead of him, and that didn’t miss. He was something else! I took a lot of inspiration from
Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead. Since I was making a zombie anime,
I watched a lot of zombie movies for reference. The original manga draws a lot
of inspiration from those as well. But in terms of action scenes
and sense of speed… …nothing beats Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead. It became my go-to film whenever
I had to explain my taste in action. Like during the early meetings
for Attack on Titan. It has a great color scheme and is both realistic
and stylish, with a great overall balance. It’s one of my favorite movies. On Highschool of the Dead,
I used it to show how I wanted things to look. More than action, though,
Highschool of the Dead is about boobs. I said to the staff of every episode:
“Show me boobs as a form of art.” I also discussed it with Hirao
and Sayo Yamamoto. And Hirao came up with this great scene
where the movement of each boob avoids bullets.  It was really stupid! But being able to have fun like this
made the production more lively. I knew it wasn’t gonna be
an easy work either way. So I thought a little joking
around would be welcome. During the action scenes,
I rapidly switched between short cuts. I also added some slow motion
effects that I held really long. The most important thing
to me was the overall tempo. Same for the works I directed
after Highschool of the Dead. It’s the thing I care the most about. It might be because at Madhouse, [Yoshiaki] Kawajiri’s style seemed
to follow the same principles. His sense of speed,
with rapid changes of pace… … is extreme compared to a regular tempo. So I tried my hand at this too. If I had a 1-second cut, which is already short, I thought, “Kawajiri would do it in 6 frames.” This is a part of the Madhouse legacy
I came to love and inherit. I didn’t leave because I was unhappy there. It’s just that for most people in this industry,
the endgame is directing an original anime. And the occasions are scarce. At Madhouse, I had directed
a few manga adaptations already. But I was beginning to wonder
when I’d get my first original. That’s when I met
Tetsuya Nakatake and George Wada… …two producers from IG
who left to establish Wit Studio. They reached out to me
with an original anime project. It was simply good timing. I’d directed three manga adaptations already. I felt like it was time to do an original. With that said, I left Madhouse. This original anime project
became Guilty Crown. I still have a chat with
Maruyama once in a while. We left on good terms. There are a lot of things about
Madhouse I only realized after leaving. I knew we made a lot of anime. But it wasn’t always like that. This only dates back to the late 90s/early 2000s. That’s when I joined the studio. Compared to others, Madhouse was
a bit reckless with this massive workload. It had its good and bad sides… …but I’d say mostly good ones. Anyway, it was an exciting place to work. Our interview with Tetsurou Araki
comes to an end. Did you enjoy learning more about
the beginning of his career? In the next episode, we interview
Ryousuke Nakamura, a director known for his own on studio Madhouse’s series in the 2000s, such as Monster, Nana, and Hajime no Ippo. Ryosuke Nakamura has made a name for himself in the anime industry by directing works such as Psychic Schoolwars
and Grimgar: Ashes and Illusions, as well as openings to many fan favorites
such as Made in Abyss and Your Lie in April. But before that,
he got his start at Studio Madhouse, working on cult classics such as
Hajime no Ippo and Monster, before making his director debut with the eerie and intriguing series Mouryou no Hako. Let’s dive into the mind of this genius! I do direction and Nakamura… Woops, messed up already! I’m Nakamura, I do direction and scriptwriting. I worked at Madhouse for 10 years,
starting in 1999. A place that has created legendary anime for over 50 years. A home to some of anime’s most famous creators: MADHOUSE What makes this place and the people
who have been there so special? I met [Tadashi Hirayama] back at
our university’s children literature circle. It was something we both enjoyed a lot. We basically just met and talked about
children’s literature works with each other. Since many of them were turned into animation,
the subject of anime often came up. But actually, I’d almost never watched anime. I only knew of stuff like Doraemon
or Sazae-san, that ran in the afternoon. But there, I learned about late-night shows,
OVAs and old anime movies. A lot of great stuff! Two works stuck with me more than the others. First was Junichi Satō’s OVA series 
Magic User’s Club. I didn’t know what an OVA was before watching it. I was amazed that such anime
existed beyond what aired on TV. The second one is the very well-known Evangelion. The TV run was already over back then… So I got up to episode 20 from a video rental store. Later, I learned that episode 21
and onward were being remade. Part of that was in the movies. And I enjoyed the first 20 episodes so much! But I could never find episode 21
and beyond to rent. That’s how I remember Evangelion. When I started to watch late-night anime, it felt… …a bit like “kamishibai,”
the traditional storytelling using illustrated boards. Evangelion is a good example:
the movement is narrowed down to a few points. That felt weird at first. But the more I watched it,
the more I understood this. Actually, it allowed the animation
to be much more expressive. There’s a sense of life to this style
that exists because it doesn’t move too much. I think that’s the first thing
I came to enjoy about anime. I never had the intention
of working in anime, though. Writing was my strong suit. And I wanted to become a sports writer. But I was so confident in my skills that I thought… “I can become a sports writer whenever I want!” In the meantime, I’d go see
other industries were about. Specifically: anime, movies and games. My plan was to spend about 3 years
in each field, learn what I could, meet people… …and then become a sports writer. But when I first saw anime
in production, I found it so interesting! And I still do, which is why
I’ve stayed in this industry. Back when I got the job though, I had no idea. As a student, I had no sense of
what anime production was like. To think I’d do it for so long! If I was going to work in anime,
I was aiming for director. And Hirayama, always the researcher… …said that it was easy to
become a director at Madhouse! I had my doubts,
but it turned out that yeah, it was easy! But I was still in the
“I’ll test this out for 3 years” mindset. In the interview, I was asked
“What Madhouse anime do you like?” I panicked, because I hadn’t researched it! I thought I’d failed for sure. But apparently they were short
on staff and all applicants got hired. And so I joined Madhouse! Our generation isn’t big
on long careers at the same place… …and anime studios have a lot of early quitters. So they thought our number
would go down… But it didn’t. There wasn’t anything to
do but answer phone calls! We didn’t have seats,
so we were wandering around the office. When the phone rang,
we jumped on it! It became a game. At some point, [Takayuki] Hirao figured out… …that the light on the phone
flashed just before it rang. Now he’s an amazing director, you know? But back then, he was the guy
who figured out the phone light! Answering faster meant nothing,
but we didn’t have anything else to do! Back then, MASTER Keaton’s
run was already over… …but the bonus OVAs were still in production. There was this producer on one of those. One day, he didn’t show up. Just as we were wondering why… …someone opened his desk
drawer and found a resignation letter. And so I was put in charge in his place. It’d been about 6 months
since I joined the company. I was just so happy to have something to do! Everybody was like
“Nice…! So how did you get ahead?!” But they all gave me a hand. Madhouse was chaotic,
without any proper training system. Which might actually be why
employees managed to climb up the ladder. At least, that’s how I got my first job. One of the reasons it was a great experience is… …MASTER Keaton 
was still animated on cells. The shift to digital… …was a huge leap in widening
the range of expression for animation. But the process of sliding cells
on acrylic-painted backgrounds… …and shooting frame after frame,
well more like 2 or 3 frames at a time. But I was lucky to see
animation being made like this. I’m glad I could see that. Hajime no Ippo was my first directing work. Same for slightly older staff like
[Mitsuyuki] Matsuhara and [Kenichi] Kawamura. The series director, [Satoshi] Nishimura,
entrusted a lot to us new faces. He was quite amazing,
taking the time to watch over us. I think a lot of great directors got their start there. I’d like to return the favor someday. He did this great thing whenever
an episode’s first rush was done. Basically the edit was
made from rough key frames. It’s used for the voice actors’ recording session. When Nishimura checked the rush, …he had me dub my episode,
and I think he did the same for others. I think he wanted to see how deeply
the director understood their own episode. Nishimura said I did
an impassioned performance! Apparently I did a different
voice for each character. Seeing this he told me,
“I understand your vision.” I probably sucked as a director,
but I was delighted that he got my vision. I’d worked as a production assistant
and assistant episode director… …but I was interested in scriptwriting. As I said earlier, I’m a curious guy… …and I wanted to see how the script gets made. Hajime no Ippo is a very
well-crafted work to begin with. It was a good training ground
for aspiring scriptwriters. That was [Masao] Maruyama’s thinking. It wasn’t just me. A lot of aspiring scriptwriters
in production tried their hand at it. Anybody was welcome to try, really. The main writer, [Tatsuhiko] Urahata,
gathered a team of young scriptwriters.  He was to scripwriters what director
Nishimura was for episode directors. That’s how I got to write
a bunch of Ippo episodes. I’d thought scriptwriting meant
reproducing the original work. But I learned that it’s about
creating the story arc… …and adjusting the density of the dialogue. Hajime no Ippo is
an amazing story to start with. Understanding why helped me
to improve my own writing. I’m glad for this. After that, I did a lot of episode direction on… Uh, what’s the name…
Hanada Shōnen-shi! The manga is great to start with. And the combo of [Masayuki] Kojima on direction
and [Yoshinori] Kanemori on chara-design was nuts! It’s a work I came to love very much. But at first, Maruyama stopped me,
saying I wasn’t fit to be a director. Because I couldn’t
draw at all, I was terrible. For example, [Tetsurō] Araki and [Takayuki] Hirao
had amazing drawing skills. I think Araki could’ve been an animator. In contrast, I didn’t even
have amateur drawing skills. You couldn’t even tell
what it was I was drawing! Maruyama said it would be hard for me to become a director at Madhouse. He said, “You’re good at writing.” So you should hone this skill
and follow in Urahata’s steps. But I refused. Directing looked fun and I wanted to try it. I’d been invited on Hanada Shōnen-shi. Maruyama said “Whatever”,
and I joined the production. I’m a big fan of director Kojima’s work. There’s a kindness to his artwork. His kindness comes across in his pictures. Just looking at his MASTER Keaton
storyboard gives me tears. It’s not like he’s pushing for tears. He brings out emotions with a great balance. There are subtleties of the human heart
that don’t come across in the script. But you can feel those
emotions in Kojima’s storyboard. I couldn’t quite put it into words back then. But now that I’ve matured,
I understand what it is. I think it’s quite similar
to the style of Clint Eastwood. And so I kinda clung to Kojima… …without really knowing
what made his work so great! I think of him as my master. Not like we’d agreed on anything like that. I just decided on my own that I’d follow him. But even though he didn’t
claim to be my mentor… …he did watch over me. We’ve spent years working back to back, literally. I learned A LOT through that. My own directing style
comes most from Kojima. Monster was already a completed story. So there was a rule not
to change a single line in there. We did remove some lines, but that’s it. It’s that good a manga. So as episode director, my job
was to deliver those lines with impact. I think Maruyama, Kojima and
the series writer Urahata thought the same. The manga itself had
a cinematographic quality to it. “There is no single right answer for a director”. That was Kojima’s catchphrase,
that I’ll take for myself here. Monster seems like you could make
the animation by copy-pasting the manga panels. But it doesn’t work. That’s because it’s created as a manga,
with a cinematographic nuance. It’s not like a frame by frame of a film. So my role was to make sure
this nuance would come across. But in using an approach born from
my own reading as a director. So I had this absolute rule whenever
I drew the storyboard for Monster. I never made a cut that exactly
matched a panel from the manga. Not that it would have been bad,
director Kojima did it and it worked great. But an inexperienced episode director
like myself… …wouldn’t be able to resist the pull
of the original work if not for this rule. So I challenged myself to bring out
the qualities of the manga on film… …without ever using
an image from the manga. The last episode I directed
is about the death of Grimmer. And I read the manga over and over again. I used the manga panels for two scenes
because I just couldn’t top those pictures. When Grimmer goes berserk before
coming back to his senses, and when he dies. Those panels were just better
shots than I could’ve made. Can I brag a little? The author [Naoki] Urasawa
told me this was his favorite episode! I was so happy, I felt I’d
been able to convey my vision! I feel like I can tell
this story more easily now. When my son was two years old… …I said I wanted to take a break
from work to raise him. Which surprised everyone! It felt like I was missing out
on a time that would never come back. And the more I thought about it,
the more frustrating it got. I keep saying this, but it’s
something I wanted to experience! So my wife, a hospital nurse,
went back to work full time. I was a stay-at-home
dad for about two years. A lot of people told me it’d
be hard to go back to work! Even Maruyama said
“You’re taking a leave?” “You’ll have to give up
on becoming a director.” I answered, “I’m not giving up,
but I’m still taking my leave!” Mōryō no Hako’s director didn’t
get along with Maruyama and left. There wasn’t much time
to find a replacement… …and they needed someone
who knew how Madhouse worked. Some people argued
I was the best person. But Maruyama said I’d taken
a leave to raise a kid… …and he wouldn’t give the weight-bearing
director seat to someone like that. But despite his opposition, I got the job. When production was over,
he actually praised my work. Anyway, I met with the previous director… …and some storyboards were done. And by famous guys, namely my mentor Kojima… …Hiroshi Hamasaki and [Morio] Asaka. This line-up of legends had
made amazing storyboards… …and I had to figure at what to do with them. But you can’t figure out Mōryō no Hako
visually just with a script. It was especially hard to handle
the overall story development. So having these director-level
storyboards was a huge help! I think Maruyama was behind it actually… …but it really helped me. In animation, the camera
sometimes breaks real-world logic. Suddenly you’re on the frontier
between reality and fantasy. This borderline is ambiguous in Mōryō no Hako,
which makes it interesting. Hamasaki, Asaka and Kojima
had different approaches to this… …which gives the series a rich personality. And I was lucky to see three
different storyboards in advance. I had more ideas to inform
my own storyboard for episode 1. So, Mōryō no Hako’s high-level direction
stems from those three storyboarding. Also, the other episode directors
were all talented senior staff. For my directorial debut,
I was truly blessed by fortune! Asaka’s episode is the one
that surprised me the most. To put it into words, it’s simple and poetic. But not poetic as in soft-hearted. Poetic with a stoic feeling to it. Not many people can pull this off. It circles back to what I said
about showing a world beyond reality. That’s exactly the kind of feeling it creates. I directed one episode of Asaka’s
Gunslinger Girl some time before. And I remember being amazed
by this “stoic lyricism” of his. Like there’s this climax scene where it’s raining,
and one character is pointing a gun. I thought the way the rain
was falling being really cool. Seeing his storyboard for Mōryō no Hako
brought back this very feeling. Kojima’s episode feels very
Twin Peaks to me. Oh you thought so too? Kojima loves David Lynch. I’ve seen some of his works as well,
and his sense of the irrational… …isn’t very Kojima, I think! Which isn’t to say his
storyboard turned out bad at all. In fact, I got to discover
a new side of his style. CLAMP drew the original
chara-designs for Mōryō no Hako. Apparently, they weren’t happy with the way chara-designer [Asako] Nishida handled them. There, I had a talk with Asaka. I’d told Maruyama that the chara-designer
should decide what was right for the series. I got rather heated. But then Asaka told me: “I’ve worked a lot with
[Nanase] Ōkawa on Cardcaptor Sakura”. “She’s a very reasonable person,
you should trust her.” Hearing this, I thought about why
she wasn’t satisfied with Nishida’s input. What was different between
the original designs and Nishida’s.  I needed to hear her detailed opinion. So I visit the house where
CLAMP gathered to work back then. There I heard Ōkawa’s explanation
first hand, and I understood her point. As well as the trust Asaka had in her. It wasn’t so much a compromise as
it was a new take on Mōryō no Hako. That’s what I talked about with Nishida. She was very understanding
about making changes to her designs. And she did an amazing job
that clearly has her touch. In the end, I think it turned out to be
a high-quality work for those involved. As a director, I couldn’t be happier. For the Blue Literature Series,
we each picked a classic novel… …and work with a mangaka from
Shōnen Jump on the original chara-designs. The project allowed us
to express our own sensibilities. I wanted to work with Takehiko Inoue. I wanted to do a black and white adaptation… …of Kan Kikuchi’s Beyond the Pale
of Vengeance, but it didn’t work out. Then I saw that nobody had
picked Run, Melos!. On chara-design was The Prince of Tennis’
Takeshi Konomi, and it looked like fun. But, there was already a Melos anime movie,
with [Hiroyuki] Okiura on chara-design. I couldn’t just do it again, so I remember
saying I’d only do it as a story within a story. From what I’ve heard, everybody
but me suffered on Blue Literature. In fact Melos was supposed to release in last. But apparently [Atsuko] Ishizuka couldn’t
get Maruyama’s approval on her segment. So the order was changed. I’d thought Melos from the ground up
and was very attached to it. So I insisted on storyboarding both
episodes and drew up the schedule accordingly. But a month before the scheduled release,
I was told about this change. I was sweating, we barely made it! I’m very attached to Mōryō no Hako as well. But I kind of came on board halfway. There’s stuff in it I would’ve changed
if I could’ve checked everything. So I vented on Melos instead. When I look at the other Blue Literature Series
segments, I feel like maybe I went overboard! It’s not that I wanted it to stick out,
it was just a very important work to me. This seems like a good occasion
to tell the story honestly. As an employee, there came a point
where I was told “Next, you’re directing this.” But I refused, and
this time it wasn’t gonna fly. I had a chat with Maruyama
about what it meant to be a director. I don’t mind helping out,
directing an episode here and there. In fact it’s mostly a fun experience
and a good way to learn. But when it comes to directing a work,
I’m the one who should get to decide. And I don’t want to direct
one series after an another. I told Maruyama that I wasn’t that type of director,
and I wanted time to think about my work. But he said “What are you saying,
you’re an employee here!” “Then I quit!”
And that was it! Of the long and prestigious
story of Madhouse I only know ten years. But the Madhouse I know is a chaotic place. But that’s why we took on anything,
with a broad-minded outlook. You need certain skills to work
in animation, like being able to draw! And I joined knowing none of those! I get worked up during interviews and talk a lot,
but I’m actually pretty clueless! I’m often on a completely different
tempo from everybody else! Anyway, I probably didn’t look
like I’d fit in the anime industry. And yet the people at Madhouse thought
I was interesting, that I could make good work. They took me in. There, I made irreplaceable friends. And I learned a lot through my work. I have nothing but gratitude for Madhouse. The ten years I spent
at Madhouse were truly wonderful. It was kind of a miracle really! A lot of staff from my generation grew into directors,
so I’m often asked how we were developed. But I have to answer that there
wasn’t anyone to formally teach us. And I go on with racing to the phone stories! In the end, there’s more to maturing
than a proper training system. That’s what I realized working there.
That’s the Madhouse I know. Our interview with Ryosuke Nakamura
comes to an end. In the next episode, we highlight a very successful director who conquered the hearts of fans… …with anime such as No Game No Life and
A Place Further Than The Universe: Atsuko Ishizuka. I’m an illustrator to the core… …and I wasn’t so familiar with the animation system.
I just thought, “This is beautiful, let’s go with it”… And suddenly I was breaking the rules. I dared to say Sakurasou was my favorite,
and the higher-ups encouraged me to try it out. Even though they had projects
they wanted me to work on! Madhouse is amazing, right? Nana was made in such a rush,
I had no time to sleep or eat. I lost “nana” (seven) kilos during Nana. That only works in Japanese…
I hope you can translate it! A place that has created legendary anime for over 50 years. A home to some of anime’s most famous creators: MADHOUSE What makes this place and the people
who have been there so special? I’m Atsuko Ishizuka from Madhouse. Overseas fans might know me from No Game,
No Life or A Place Further Than the Universe. Recently, I directed the original movie
Goodbye, Don Glees! An art university graduate, Atsuko Ishizuka
first worked on independent animation, before quickly joining studio Madhouse,
where she remains to this day. There, she learned the ropes as
assistant director on Nana, and attained world-wide success directing
hit anime No Game No Life… …and A Place Further Than the Universe. For this episode, we hear the story of one of the most beloved directors of today’s Madhouse. I used to make independent animation,
but I didn’t start because I liked anime. In college I had no direction for my life,
so I was looking hard for something. I just happened to get my hands on a computer. Since I studied art, I was good at drawing. And I liked to write and draw stories,
plus I’d always been into music. So combining all of this together,
animation felt like the way to go. But I didn’t know the first thing about animation… …or that you could make it on your own.
To me, anime meant TV stuff like Doraemon or Sazae-san. So I started looking for a company
that made those kinds of works. I didn’t see myself as an auteur. I just thought, with my skills… …I might be able to make TV anime. When I joined the industry, others may have seen me as having a strong personal style. But I never thought of myself that way. But I knew I’d had a different
introduction to anime from most. Actually, I’ve only known the digital
animation pipeline, including coloring. When I joined Madhouse, the cells
and papers they used to work on… …were already on shelves collecting dust. I’m the first generation of
what you’d call “digital natives”. Back then,
digital coloring was already normalized. But the compositing would
always have this digital sheen to it. I feel like we were still at the stage of figuring out… …how to properly blend digital
paint and analog backgrounds. I didn’t know the first thing about animation. I did a lot of research when
I started looking for a job in the industry. My favorite anime was Doraemon,
or rather, the only one I knew. But I didn’t know if I’d be able
to make the stuff I liked right away. So that intimidated me. I didn’t even fully realize that Doraemon
was a “work” made by actual people. I took anime for granted,
like it was just here for me to enjoy. Few people watching anime are
aware of the tremendous efforts behind it. I was the same… So I started looking up the staff
behind the anime I’d enjoyed. And it just so happened that
Madhouse had made a few of them. I don’t remember precisely… …but there was a lot of stuff like
Yawara! that I recalled enjoying as a kid. Madhouse looked like a studio that
made anime for all ages and tastes. It gave me the impression
of a studio with a flexible identity… …where I could work on anime that fit me. When I joined, I realized Madhouse
actually had a VERY strong and unique identity! I didn’t watch anime as a hobby. I watched as much as I could to learn. I wasn’t going to make it in the industry
without any knowledge of anime. So whenever I had time,I studied the classics. I watched a lot of [Osamu] Dezaki’s work. As a prospective Madhouse director… …it was essential to understand
animation techniques from the cell era. So I watched stuff like Treasure Island,
which was super cool. I started to learn the industry lingo
by watching old anime. I picked up how to tell stories
and draw storyboards. Madhouse or not… …I liked to watch masterpieces
not as a consumer, but as a student. I watched a bunch of anime like this,
only to study their style. The first thing I noticed when
I joined is how energetic Madhouse is. It’s the only studio I know,
so I don’t have anything to compare it to. Don’t misinterpret this,
but the people here are like children. They’re straight-forward, single-minded,
and love making anime a bit too much. Even when everyone’s tired
and sleeping at the office, they still enjoy it. Creating can be excruciatingly hard. But when all is done,
you can tell they’re happy they did it. That’s what I mean by “energetic”. The number of women working at Madhouse
was finally on the rise when I joined. There were already many women
in coloring and in-betweening. But far fewer were working in production. Almost half the new hires in my year,
about 40% actually, were women. The number of women started
increasing 1 or 2 years before I joined. This might make me sound like a loner,
but I don’t hang out much with colleagues. I’m too focused on my own stuff! I dove head-first into this world filled with talented staff,
without knowing the first thing about it. Despite being a complete amateur,
I immediately made the Tsuki no Waltz MV. So I had no time to look around. Of course I didn’t know what to do,
and I asked a lot of people for help. Mostly senior, more experienced directors. They taught me a lot,
and they still look out for me today. I was sure I wouldn’t be allowed to accept an offer
from NHK, so I turned down Tsuki no Waltz. But NHK insisted on talking
it over with Madhouse directly. Surprisingly, the producer I was working with
found it amusing and greenlit the project! We’re a company,
so we have to make money. But he just kinda went,
“Who cares, let’s do it!” I think that’s really amazing. Of course, it’s not like I drew
all of Tsuki no Waltz myself. A lot of veteran animators I was
working with on Monster joined in. That included the great [Yoshinori] Kanemori,
who’s been there to help me since. It might look like a solo project… But far from it! It has some tremendous animation. Kanemori was the first animator
to take me under his wing when I joined. He’s a bit of a father figure to me. I ran to him with questions,
like “Daaad, I don’t understand this!” His daughter is about my age, actually. So that made me kind of
a “work daughter” for him to look after. He taught me everything. On the Blue Literature Series… …I knew [Masao] Maruyama
expected a lot from me. I was worried about disappointing him
with my storyboard, especially the action scenes. I went to Kanemori for advice
like a kid asking their dad to rescue them! I had the Monster manga at home. My two older brothers had lots of manga
that overflowed into my room. I’d read it back then, but without
really taking the time to appreciate it. To me it was a sort of
cult classic everybody knew of. I joined the industry as a complete amateur,
and the first director I met was [Masayuki] Kojima. Directors are responsible for
most judgment calls and decisions. So I figured they were people with strong opinions. To put it bluntly,
I thought they were pretty selfish. “Artist” types with strong individuality,
who never listen to others’ opinions… But working on Monster,
I witnessed Kojima’s directing style. Actually, it wasn’t so much technical desk work. Rather, he made sure everything ran smoothly,
and then put it all together. That’s the kind of director
I saw when I looked at him. He is really balanced as a director. He has a clear picture of what he wants to do,
but still listens to his staff. Instead of finding faults in people,
he draws out their potential. Same goes for [Morio] Asaka. He has an incredibly personal sensibility,
but he believes in his staff. Watching those directors at work
inspired me to be like them. And that is still my goal today. I first worked with Asaka on Nana. We were absolutely swamped back then. Madhouse ran a ton of anime at the same time. And production volume was
increasing at other studios as well. Everybody was busier than ever. So there’s a lot I didn’t
have a chance to ask Asaka. He couldn’t afford to be teaching younger staff. So I observed him as thoroughly as I could. Nana was made in such a rush,
I had no time to sleep or eat. I lost “nana” (seven) kilos during Nana. That only works in Japanese…
I hope you can translate it! I was so busy I couldn’t go home,
the work never seemed to end. I was still fairly new,
so I had to learn a lot on the spot. Everyone was drowning in work,
and I ran around helping wherever I could. If Asaka was in a tough spot,
I jumped in to assist him. I was young, so I pushed my body to the limit. I helped direct the entire series,
episode by episode. Since I was involved in all aspects of the series,
I was credited as assistant director. It was in appreciation for my support. It wasn’t supposed to be my role at all. But since I stuck my nose everywhere,
I was bumped up to assistant director! Back when I’d just joined Madhouse
and didn’t know anybody’s name… …I was summoned to
dinner with [Satoshi] Kon. I was a newbie oddity,
so I guess he wanted to meet me. I was aware of his work,
of course, but I’d never talked to him. Plus I didn’t know anything about
anime or the philosophy of making one. And here I was, sitting in front of Kon! He asked me stuff like,
“What works do you like?” “What’s your vision?” I couldn’t answer, so I tried
coming up with clever things to say. I started talking about an author I knew
he liked, saying I’d read them too. He asked for my thoughts, but I had nothing
deep to say and I went with “It was interesting”! He seemed really disappointed,
and he told me we’d never work together! We left on that note. But 1 or 2 years later I got a chance
to talk with him at Madhouse. He said he was rooting for me
and made a friendly gesture. I felt like he’d accepted me,
which made me really happy. He was intimidating at first,
but then I saw him working at the studio. I realized he had a sincere
love for making anime. I wasn’t casually greeting him in the morning. But I didn’t find him scary.
He did look a bit frightening, though. At the time, light novels were trending in Japan. Madhouse hadn’t really tackled
the otaku-core late night anime genre. More and more staff wanted to give it a try. Coincidentally, the company
wanted me to start directing a series. We decided I’d try my hand at a light novel
adaptation, and several candidates emerged. People came to me with different propositions. Just then, a J. C. Staff producer
contacted me with an adaptation project. So I had to choose between
the novels Madhouse had on the table… …and J. C.’s project,
The Pet Girl of Sakurasou. I dared to say Sakurasou was my favorite,
and the higher-ups encouraged me to try it out. Even though they had projects
they wanted me to work on! Madhouse is amazing, right? I’d hardly read any light novels,
only bits of Slayers. So I read and compared them. As someone unfamiliar with light novels… …Sakurasou felt way more familiar
than isekai and fantasy battle stories. For starters, it took place in the real world. And I was a former art school student myself. That narrative about youngsters
dealing with creation hit close to home. I loved the writing style as well. I figured if I was to direct the adaptation,
I should go with the work I related to most. It’s not like I brought Rintarō along, though. I was facing a new workplace and people,
working with a different method. For the ending… …I thought an author-type who could handle
storyboarding would be welcome. At which point Madhouse
told me Rintarō was available. So they went to ask him, and he said yes! It was unbelievable timing. Without him to take charge of the ending,
I think I would’ve been in trouble. I love Rintarō’s style. I wouldn’t say it influenced me
in a way that made me want to imitate him. But I think we’re on a similar wavelength. It’s presumptuous, but I’d say
his sense of fantasy is pretty close to mine. We probably like to make
the same kind of compositions. On Sakurasou and No Game, No Life,
I didn’t have a specific awareness of the strong colors. They’re light novels, so I already had illustrations to work from. I found them really beautiful
so I tried to recreate the color pattern. Color schemes are systematized in Japanimation. So obviously there are rules and trends. But I ignored them, since I didn’t know them! At first there was some resistance
from the coloring department. My coloring scheme was
tricky to balance and broke all the rules. So I had a hard time convincing my staff. At first I wasn’t sure what to do,
and I caused a huge hassle over this. But I just didn’t know how this stuff worked!
I liked the illustration colors. I’m an illustrator to the core… …and I wasn’t so familiar
with the animation system. I just thought, “This is beautiful, let’s go with it”… And suddenly I was breaking the rules. I gave my staff a lot of headaches. I wasn’t doing all this irregular stuff on purpose. It’s just that I didn’t know the formula
for regular animation, I think. I started to realize this when I worked on
A Place Further Than the Universe. It wasn’t an anime for people who love anime. Rather, it was for parents and kids who like
to watch movies or documentaries together. Since I finally had a shot at human drama,
I didn’t want to fall back on anime visual tropes. I wanted it to feel like a live-action
movie shot with actual cameras. So I decided to drop all anime visual tropes
and direct as if it were a movie. And I threw in symbolic shots
to challenge the viewers. This time, I actually had a clear style in mind. I think it all started when I was working on
No Game, No Life, or maybe the movie. Anyway, the script had just been completed. We hadn’t actually started the production,
but the team went out to dinner together. I was with the scriptwriter and
Kadokawa producer. The discussion shifted to my next project. I was far from done on my current work,
but we started talking about a future series. I said, “Next, I’ll make something about
a school club, with a female lead”. And they seemed to approve. That’s how A Place Further Than
the Universe was born, over dinner! For real! Normally, you’d have a project proposal
passed around within Madhouse. Ideas are solicited from employees… …and then discussed with the prospective
makers and the production committee. In my case, we just came up
with the proposal over dinner. Since I’m an employee, I’m asked to use
staff selected by Madhouse if possible. It’s my job to adjust to
my staff’s schedules and routines… …although for most people the pace stays
the same regardless of the project. But say you have a director with
a specific style that requires unusual skills. In that case, the company may call in
animators who they know can handle the job. Also, if the director really wants,
let’s say a specific chara-designer… …and they whine enough about it,
the company might give in. On A Place Further than the Universe,
I worked with scriptwriter Jukki Hanada…. …because I loved what he did on No Game, No Life.
I wanted to work with Hanada again. And it so happened he really wanted
to work on an original anime. That’s how we ended up at the dinner talking
about making an original anime together. We thought a lot about
what the two of us could do. We quickly settled on female leads,
the kind you’d want to root for. In a way, this project was born because
I went to a dinner with Hanada. I told you earlier about wanting to make
A Place Further Than the Universe look like a movie. I wondered about making it as an actual movie. I’ve never really been into animation TV series. So I actually feel closer to the movie format. I was dining with the Kadokawa producer again,
and he said, “Shall we make another, then?” And that’s how Goodbye, Don Glees! was born. To me, Madhouse is where I belong.
So, Madhouse is My House! It’s such a comfy place. But it’s why I can’t let
myself depend on it, you know? If I got complacent, I’d be
unable to pursue my own way. Fortunately, Madhouse is an environment that
allows me to challenge myself with original works. At the moment, I need to think hard
about the kind of work I’ll make next. So for now, I’ll take advantage of this
comfortable environment to focus on the future. Probably my own personality is at fault… …but I don’t like to think about my surroundings. Stuff like invoices, taxes,
my day-to-day schedule… I just can’t do it. Whenever I’m making something,
I don’t want to be doing anything else. I’m the type who can’t tell
what day of what month it is. So there’s no way
I could survive as a freelancer! Plus, I’ve been at Madhouse for a while now. It’s a wonderful place filled with
the people who helped me grow. I don’t have any desire to set out
and make a name for myself. A place like Madhouse where
I can be fully focused on my work… It’s the perfect fit for me. Our interview with Atsuko Ishizuka
comes to an end. This marks the end of the first season of Madhouse Mind Probe. What was your favorite episode? What would you like to see next? Tell us in the comments! Don’t forget to like and subscribe
to help the channel grow… …and do not miss upcoming videos.

Ever wondered what goes into the production of your favorite Japanese anime? Join us for a series of exclusive interviews as we pull back the curtain on Studio Madhouse, the animators of popular works such as “Cardcaptor Sakura,” “Death Note,” and “One-Punch Man!”

Full Madhouse Series Playlist

Ep#1: Masao Maruyama

Ep#2: Yoshiaki Kawajiri

Ep#3: Sunao Katabuchi

Ep#4: Tetsurō Araki

Ep#5: Ryōsuke Nakamura

Ep#6: Atsuko Ishizuka

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https://framen.jp

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https://fullfrontal.moe/

Timestamps
00:00 Masao Maruyama
26:18 Yoshiaki Kawajiri
52:42 Sunao Katabuchi
1:18:41 Tetsuro Araki
1:46:49 Ryosuke Nakamura
2:21:10 Atsuko Ishizuka