Greetings valued reader, my name is Dave and I am fanatical about anything with a firing order, particularly automobiles. When offered the opportunity to autoethnographically research a topic of my choosing, I was quick to combine my passion for motorsport with the anime that has influenced an increasing inclination in my ever-inflating automotive infatuation: Initial D. Somewhat-accurately depicting drift culture, this animated series has become a cult classic in the drifting community, and as an active member of this community, I hope to at least begin unpacking features of the series that have fuelled the flames of fandom, but first, I feel I must explain the tool with which I plan to do so.
Ellis et al (2011) articulate the academic investigative method of autoethnography best through deconstruction; noting that such an approach to research and writing seeks to describe through analysis (graphy) personal experience (auto) in order to understand cultural experience (ethno). This succinct and simple definition opens a comprehensive piece of academic literature that logically explores all facets of autoethnography; a piece that I invite you to read if an avenue of access is available. To appease the academic institution for whom I am undertaking my research, I feel obliged to offer a synthesized regurgitation of this work to supposedly demonstrate understanding. To you, valued reader, I instead suggest skimming past the following paragraph to find a more accessible explanation of my work in the field of autoethnography.
Straddling what has traditionally been a dichotomous divide between art and science, autoethnography transcendently achieves what neither could hope to individually; eschewing fundamentally flawed attempts at neutrality whilst retaining critical self-consciousness to investigate gaps in existing knowledge, utilising the essential human cognitive tool of storytelling as both the subject and method of social science research (Ellis 2004, Ellis et al 2011). Such self-reflexivity not only recognises, but harnesses the innumerable ways personal experience influences the research process, critiquing canonically prescribed, parochial concepts of what research is and how it should be conducted through alternate avenues of investigation in areas that may not traditionally constitute meaningful or useful research (Ellis et al 2011). Above all, however, the autoethnographer is highly aware of their ability to address wider audiences than traditionally addressed by academia, seeking to produce accessible texts that facilitate understanding for those both inside and outside the area of study (Ellis et al 2011), something this complex slab of text certainly does not achieve.
So, in a more accessible form, autoethnography is simply the telling of one’s story in relation to an area of research, in this case Initial D and drift culture, followed by a process of validating said story by using tools developed as a researcher to analyse the personal experiences involve in the hope that others may either vicariously experience these experiences or relate them to their own (Ellis 1993, Ellis et al 2011). As a member of the drifting community and a university student in my final semester of study, I believe my cultural identity allows organic assumption of the participant observer role to create a personal narrative with great generalizability. While I personally believe this research is valuable in offering insights into the mindset of a drift enthusiast, or at least an Australian one like myself, my work could also offer a unique addition to media effects theory (Bryant & Oliver 2009) or other fields investigating the influence cycle at play between life and art.
This post will remained pinned and will be constantly tweaked as my research progresses, but for the sake of linearity, I will attempt to leave all other work as originally posted in reverse-chronological order.
As my final semester of university draws to a close, I find myself torn between topics to round out my autoethnographic analysis of Initial D, a self-directed study that I’ve genuinely enjoyed due to the fluid structure of the DIGC330 subject. At the beginning of this semester when told to pick a topic, I rapidly rattled off a list of areas to explore in relation to Initial D and while I feel I’ve covered the more important ones, there are a few I’d like to touch on, primarily to give me a starting point should I ever return to continue creating content.
As Chris Moore and I have shared a passion for video games across the various digital communications topics I’ve completed under his tutelage, I initially planned to discuss the interactive forms spawned by the series. Sega’s arcade theme park Joypolis is home to the most famous of these interactive iterations, with players able to pilot life-size replicas of key vehicles as seen in the video above. Initial D Extreme Stage and Initial D Street Stage were developed for the PS3 and PSP respectively, but as I do not own either of these devices, and regrettably did not visit Joypolis due to budget constraints, I felt that any examination of these facets of the series would have been forcibly fabricated. I do plan on playing these titles in the future however, and will possibly explore my reactions to the titles at that time.
Another of my initial topics was the concept of the humble hero, comparing Takumi’s ignorance of his own abilities and his journey in discovering them with other similar anime heroes, such as Dragon Ball Z’s Goku. I originally framed this topic as one that is quintessentially Japanese but after only shallow probing, I realised that whilst many animes do feature characters that fit this trope, there are also countless other canonised character tropes, and my alignment of the humble hero as central to the anime canon was largely based in my own misunderstandings of the culture. That being said, I still believe it would be an interesting area of research, but the foreseen difficulty of the topic forced it into the ‘too hard’ basket, at least for now.
I feel I could continue to list neglected topics ad infinitum, but one that I feel must be mentioned is Initial D’s portrayal of females, particularly in motorsport. While there are a number of love interests throughout the series, I was particularly interested in the Usui driving duo of Mako and Sayuki. I feel that this pair personified the spirit of female Japanese drifters, driving at an exceptional level without sacrificing their femininity. I encountered a number of amazingly talented female drivers during my travels to Japan, including the owner of the gorgeous R32 Skyline pictured below, but even after finding a fantastic interview with one such driver, I decided to scrap the topic for a reason I feel uneasy admitting. Personally, I find digestion of feminist literature mentally draining due to my belief that equality and empowerment of both sexes can only be achieved once pedantic debates surrounding differences are shelved in preference of progress. It is quite possible that I have simply not encountered academic literature that takes this standpoint, but I still feel that I would have been walking on egg shells to articulate a standpoint that has been much more eloquently postulated here.
In my examination of Initial D so far, there has been a topic that I’ve intentionally avoided due to a simple fact that can quickly become quite complex; street drifting breaches a number of road rules that underpin the majority of international laws and is, therefore, irrefutably illegal. Characters very rarely question the practice of street racing during the countless high-speed battles held on public roads and when they do, fear of punishment or oncoming traffic is portrayed as a competitive weakness. In the clip linked below, Keisuke emerges victorious due to his opponent’s hesitance to utilise both sides of the road in low visibility, and the discussions surrounding this battle glorifies the ability of street racers to prioritise victory over personal safety.
While I’m no guru on the matter, I believe that Initial D’s portrayal of various forms of the focused Japanese street racer persona is fundamentally accurate, albeit dramatised for the purpose of entertainment. Key to this dramatisation is the apparent conflation of the street racing and street drifting scenes, although it is quite possible that a separation of the two is a misunderstanding of the culture on my part.
My understanding of Japanese street racing culture is limited due to the scarcity of accurate information available in English, but I would imagine that as with any illegal underground community, social connections with those heavily involved are essential for anything other than accidental inclusion, regardless of language barriers. The infamous 300km/h+ Mid Night Club are a perfect example of such secrecy, with races organised through coded messages in local newspapers between long-disbanded members whose identities remain a mystery to this day. Even with increased scrutiny from law enforcement, organised high-speed street racing on the perfectly manicured expressways surrounding many Japanese cities still occurs, with members of Osaka’s Kanjozoku articulating above their passion for the practice and their dedication to its continuation for posterity.
Street drifting, in comparison, is focused much more on technique than outright speed and while I’m sure battles do occur, I would wager that they are decided in a participant-judged style similar to competitive drifting, rather than a street racing form of time trial as depicted in Initial D. In my experience, however, those passionate about drifting in any form are primarily concerned with personal improvement and practice, with competition handled in a friendly and respectful manner. It is in this light that I have formed an understanding of street drifting, with groups of drivers practicing together in a fashion similar to that depicted above. It is worth noting the way in which these highly skilled drivers drift only within their lane so as not to endanger oncoming traffic, a common practice when drifting on busier roads.
Having spent countless hours trawling YouTube in search of Japanese street drift videos, I was adamant that I would experience the spectacle first hand during my travels in Japan. After scouring remote touges in search of skid marks, we were given a hot tip visit a location I cannot disclose some time after midnight. We drove for more than two hours through twisting mountain roads that serviced ski fields in the winter, but were abandoned on this warm August night. Progressively narrowing roads led us into the depths of the mountains and, eventually, a remote lookout that we shared awkwardly with a Nissan 180SX, unsure if we had found what we were looking for or simply interrupted a local couple’s romantic drive. For half an hour we poked around, almost convincing ourselves to turn around and go home, before the distinctive wail of a 1JZ grew rapidly louder, announcing the arrival of a sight I will never forget; a gorgeous JZX100 leading a train of maybe eight to ten cars rounding a hairpin corner in a blaze of smoke, separated by considerably less than a metre each.
After watching a number of runs, we were informed that we were standing at the top of the advanced course and that if we wanted to see more, we should follow the chase car, a vehicle used to mark the tail end of a train, indicating that there is no more traffic to follow. As we came to the bottom of a beautiful series of turns, we were suddenly greeted by a car park filled with nearly 100 cars, scattered with tools and tyres in such a fashion that I had to continually remind myself I was not at a race track. One such vehicle was the famous Team Magician Laurel pictured above, a car I’ve long admired and quickly poured myself over before explaining to the owner in broken Japanese phrases how much I loved his car.
Through numerous conversations we discovered that this area had been specifically selected for its lack of through traffic, with local authorities allowing the practice to continue in an unspoken agreement to keep drifting out of more populated areas. We had already experienced the advanced course (shown in the video below that was actually filmed on the night we were there) so decided to chase a train up what we assumed to be the beginners course, although the level of driving displayed makes it very difficult to refer to as such. Placed on each corner was a spotter with a light baton that they waved to indicate the direction of traffic whilst also warning of hazards, such as a spun vehicle, on the other side of the blind corner. I could not believe how professional, popular and yet relaxed this blatantly illegal event was, able to operate until around 8am uninterrupted!
On the ride home, we couldn’t help but discuss how any of us would be practically burned at the stake by the media if caught doing something similar in Australia. In discussions with professional D1GP driver Naoto Suenaga, one of my peers was told that the two nights he spends practicing on the street every week really wasn’t enough if he wants to improve, and it is this point that highlights the difficulty whilst discussing this topic. Drifting in Australia has had a rocky history, maligned by more traditional motorsports and, in recent, times flat out refused admission to certain circuits, including my local Sydney Motorsport Park. Many blame a supposed lower level of skill in Australian drifters, but how are those motivated to improve meant to do so when they are not offered the opportunity to practice a couple of times a month, let alone a couple of times a week? The result of such prejudice against different forms of motorsport has been proven repeatedly all over the world; if there’s no access to a racetrack, then the road takes its place.
While I don’t necessarily agree with this rationale, I definitely understand where it comes from. Returning to Australia, I was motivated to hone my skills as regularly as possible and have found myself travelling interstate at great expense to do so legally on a monthly basis, all while my friends run the gauntlet and improve beyond me by practicing at least weekly on carefully selected stretches of road. I am an incredibly vocal critic of Australia’s licensing system and regularly argue that some form of basic motorsport should be made mandatory to teach young drivers the car control required to avoid an accident, and believe that the infrastructure required to do so could also be used as venues at which motorsport enthusiasts could practice their technique, keeping them off the street. We have community funded skate parks and leisure centres so logically, I cannot understand why a community venue that allows drivers to practice the ubiquitous task of driving somewhere other than the street is not already under construction.
To discuss this topic fairly, I initially believed it would be crucial to research the topics of motorsport and street racing academically, but was downright appalled by the poorly conducted research I discovered. All studies encountered opened with heavily biased definitions of street racing and associated terminology, with my favourite coming from Leal & Watson (2011) who suggest that a driver performing a burnout essentially has no control over their vehicle because they have lost traction with the road, a point that highlights a poor understanding of vehicle dynamics and driving techniques. All articles also subscribed to the popular Australian concept that speed is an objective cause of accidents, not driver error whilst travelling at speed. Vignis & Smart (2009) even went so far as to suggest a legislative ban on high performance vehicles, supported by a number of statistics that could be more accurately attributed to low performance drivers. I could continue to pick these poorly composed academic articles to pieces but I feel I’m heading off on a tangent here, so I will finish with Tranter & Warn’s (2008) demonisation of legitimate motorsport, neglecting to ask motorsport fans if they had actually participated in any form of motorsport before using an arguably invalid theory of media effects (Leuman & Guggenheim 2001) to postulate that the sample’s poor driving record could be explained as emulation of professional drivers.
At the beginning of this post I made my reluctance to discuss this topic clear and reading back through this slab of directionless text, I kind of wish I hadn’t. While cultural acceptance of mainstream forms of elite motorsport has a long history in Australia, automotive enthusiasts – who continually stimulate the economy through their incredibly expensive hobby – are under constant attack from popular media, fanning the flames of the ‘hoon’ moral panic by showcasing the undesirables to the detriment of the rest of the community. How does this relate to Initial D? Well, it doesn’t really, except for the way in which the series highlights the stark contrast between the treatment of the modified car community by authorities in Japan and Australia. While I would not go as far as condoning lawless street racing that endangers others in urban areas, the drifters I met in the hills of Japan were endangering no one who did not consciously choose to be involved and if the police were to turn a blind eye to similar practices that operated respectfully in Australia, would that be such a bad thing? Maybe instead of allocating resources towards the policing of people who endanger only themselves, we should repurpose our efforts towards lifting the poor standard of average Australian driver skill by making motorsport more accessible for the masses and implementing a licensing system that involves more than parents passing on their bad habits to their children, tested by a touch screen.
References:
Armstrong, K & Steinhardt, D 2006, ‘Understanding street racing and ‘hoon’ culture: An exploratory investigation of perceptions and experiences’, Journal of the Australasian College of Road Safety, vol.17, no.1, pp.38-44
Leal, N & Watson B 2011, ‘The road safety implications of illegal street racing and associated risky driving behaviours: An analysis of offences and offenders’, Accident Analysis and Prevention, vol.43, no.1, pp.1547-1554
Leuman W & Guggenheim L 2011, ‘The Evolution of Media Effects Theory: A Six-Stage Model of Cumulative Research’, Communication Theory, vol.21, no.2, pp.169-196
Tranter, P & Warn, J 2008, ‘Relationships between interest in motor racing and driver attitudes and behaviour amongst mature drivers: An Australian case study’, Accident Analysis and Prevention, vol.40, no.1, pp.1683-1689
Vinglis, E & Smart R 2009, ‘Street Racing: A Neglected Research Area?’, Traffic Injury Prevention, vol.10, no.1, pp.148-156
Emerging relatively recently as an observable trend and relevant area of research, cultural tourism has rapidly reached the highest rank of popularity amongst contemporary special interest tourism (Petroman 2013). Broadly defined, cultural tourism refers to the movement of people to cultural attractions for the purpose of assimilating information and cultural experiences (Petroman 2013). When considered in relation to anime, sites of cultural tourism are largely constructed for the purpose of extending the life and value of the franchise, taking on wildly varied forms that range from theme parks to museums, but with a common commercial theme of consumerism (Denison 2010). In what seems to be a rare exception to this trend, Initial D has inspired what I believe to be a far more authentic form of cultural tourism, with the show’s geographical accuracy motivating physical pilgrimages that are neither controlled by those with vested interest in the show’s continuation nor inherently commercial.
Although the names of some locations are altered, Initial D is primarily set in the landlocked Gunma Prefecture to the northwest of Japan’s capital, Tokyo, with the show centred around the fictional town of Akina that is, in reality, Ikaho. Many travel to this location in search of fabled physical locations and to test their skill on the ‘Mount Akina Downhill’, with diverse digital artefacts paying homage to the physical locations of Initial D or documenting pilgrimages in search of them. Unfortunately, the iconic ‘Fujiwara’s Tofu Shop’ pictured below no longer resides in Ikaho, but the ability of a motivated cultural tourist to uncover the site in which it stood after a brief discussion of the show with passers-by demonstrates the close cultural link between Initial D and it’s geographical origins, as well as hinting to the regularity with which cultural tourists explore the region. One such tourist described Gunma as a “driver’s wonderland” whilst exploring the roads of the region in relation to Initial D, relying on personal automotive exploration to investigate the locations that inspired the series.
As my trip was organised in its majority by friends far more experienced than myself in both drifting and Japanese travel, I had but a vague idea of what our trip would involve and quickly became what Petroman (2013) describes as an ‘accidental cultural tourist’, incidentally involved in cultural experiences that immeasurably expanded my knowledge of Initial D, Japan and drift culture. Armed with Google Maps and scattered local knowledge collated by my peers, we endeavoured to travel via the most extreme roads we could find and often stopped to overlook picturesque landscapes like the one below whilst basking in the brilliant engineering of infrastructure required to get us there. In eerie fits of déjà vu, I would recognise a series of corners and spend the next hour debating whether or not the road we were travelling on featured in Initial D, with one of these false memories actually leading to the discovery of an unbelievably organised street drift meeting that I will discuss in another post.
Despite my limited knowledge of Initial D at the outset, I had a clear goal of visiting ‘Mount Akina’ and practically battled my way into the driver’s seat when I discovered a trip to the real location, Mount Haruna, was on the day’s agenda. Fighting my way through the familiar turns to the point where many epic anime battles had began, I felt an odd connection with the landscape and suddenly understood why the creators of Initial D were inspired to accurately portray the amazingly diverse roads of the Gunma Prefecture rather than fabricating fantastical roads that could not possibly match the spectacle of reality. Reaching what I will always refer to as ‘Lake Akina’, I was surprised to stumble upon what I now recognise as purposeful cultural tourists (Petroman 2013), with a group of Toyota 86 enthusiasts celebrating on hallowed ground a newly-released vehicle that never would have come to be without Initial D’s leading automotive star. With this coincidental collection at my back I stared over the lake and could not believe the scene that lay before me, with a young couple taking in the stunning scenery and acting almost identically to Takumi and his early love interest, Natsuki. I could not help but capture this moment as, at least for an instant, I became encapsulated in a world I had only ever experienced in anime. I will never know what motivated the pair to travel to such a location but I still like to believe that they too shared cultural connection with the area similar to my own.
As my research predominantly pursues personally reflexive authoethnography, I have been focusing solely on my own experiences with, and reactions to, the Initial D franchise. I have come to the realisation that the participant-observer perspective enabled by my personal participation in the drifting community whilst interesting, is not particularly unique, and could definitely be diversified by the input of other like-minded individuals. I may be able to articulate what I believe to be a representative analysis through my own experience, but the validity of such experience could be valuably verified and corroborated by YOUR contribution, valued reader.
To this end, I have composed a questionnaire that attempts to make accessible areas of my research through which you may offer your own autoethnographic analysis, hyperlinked where possible to pertinent posts that offer my analysis of the matter. This sounds much more formal than I intend it to be, as I am simply after your personal opinions offered in any format you wish, whether it be answering all questions at great length, selecting a set that speak to your own experiences, or bringing up your own questions and ideas that you believe are relevant to your engagement with Initial D.
I will relish your responses, valued reader, in whatever form you frame them, but I do ask that you leave said responses in the comments section below so that others may reflect on your reply and hopefully be prompted to participate.
1. How would you describe your relationship/involvement with drift culture and modified car culture as a whole?
2. How did you first get involved and where do you think this passion began?
3. Have you ever watched the anime series Initial D? If yes, how much of it have you seen?
4. What is your impression of the show and the way it depicts drift culture? Is it realistic?
5. Have you been influenced by features of Initial D and if so, how? This can include things such as driving techniques, car modification/styling, attitudes towards drifting, or simply features you have enjoyed.
6. Have you ever travelled to any of the physical locations that the show takes inspiration from? If so, what motivated you to do so?
7. Do you have a favourite character, or a character that you believe reflects your attitude to drifting?
9. What is your opinion on the portrayal of female characters in Initial D? How does this reflect your understanding of female involvement in the drift community?
11. Have any of your other automotive purchases been informed in any way by Initial D?
12. Have you encountered the Initial D franchise in any form other than the anime itself i.e. video games, live-action movies, merchandise, fan creations, references on forums, replicas of vehicles etc?
Takumi Fujiwara is a quiet, humble, 19-year old young man, born and raised in the shadow of Mount Akina in Japan’s Gunma province. From an early age, Takumi has worked in his father, Bunta Fujiwara’s tofu shop. Since the age of 12, Takumi has been responsible for delivering tofu to local hotels in Bunta’s 1983 Toyota AE86 Trueno, a role that forced him to drive the treacherous Mount Akina ‘touge’ daily, regardless of weather conditions. By assigning his son this task, Bunta was able to unwittingly train Takumi in the art of ‘touge’ driving, nurturing in Takumi skills that would eventually create an instinctively unbeatable driver, only second to Bunta himself on the roads of Mount Akina.
At this point I would like to point out that Takumi Fujiwara is not a ‘real’ person, but the lead character of Initial D, and by far the greatest celebrity the anime series has produced. It is interesting to note the way in which the series has spawned two separate, yet inherently inseparable facets of the same celebrity phenomenon; Takumi Fujiwara himself, and his unmistakable AE86 Trueno.
The Toyota AE86 chassis has been a cult classic, both in motorsport and the modified car scene at large, since it’s release in the early 80s. Relying on its lightweight, finely tuned chassis and naturally aspirated 1.6L power plant for pace during more spirited driving, critics viewed it as a bit of an underdog in comparison to turbocharged Japanese sports cars of the 80s and 90s. This underdog spirit is overtly accentuated in the creation of Initial D’s legendary ‘white ghost of Akina’, and I believe the reason it has become so beloved by fans of the series. In what I liken to the art of cosplay, many have been inspired to pay homage to this venerable vehicle through emulation, exampled by the somewhat faithful Australian recreation pictured below.
The influence of celebrity does not stop at mere emulation, however, with a link between the release of Initial D in its dubbed form and the international rise in value of Japanese sports cars and associated parts in the early 2000s widely accepted as fact. Those within the international Japanese car scene have dubbed this the ‘Takumi tax’, often used derogatorily to describe exorbitant prices aimed at newcomers for parts of a known, lower value. Similar in nature to mainstream celebrity opinion leaders and their influence in fashion and other consumer trends, Initial D iconicized a number of Japanese sports cars, but particularly the AE86, in a way that introduced a wider audience to their potential, inflating demand and partially fuelling the explosion of drifting as an international motorsport.
Takumi himself as a celebrity has also added fuel to this fire, providing a role model with admittedly impressive skills, but skills that have been learned through the proven process of practice. Adding to the well-established anime canon of hard-working yet humble heroes hesitant to boast of their own talents, or in this case initially unaware of them, Takumi is an accessible and morally aspirational character that encourages beginners and veterans alike to partake in perpetual self-improvement through constant practice.
An interesting technique used to articulate this throughout the series is Takumi’s awakening to his own talents, a process you can see beginning as he observes Iketani, the head of the Akina Speed Stars, flailing in the AE86’s passenger seat in the clip above, taken from the sixth episode. Takumi begins as a purely instinctive driver but as the series progresses, and particularly under the tutelage of Ryosuke Takahashi in Project D, he is introduced to driving techniques in a progressive gradient; moving from basic explanations of car control to incredibly advanced techniques discussed both by Takumi as his understanding improves, and others in observing his driving style. In this way, Takumi personifies the learning process all drivers must undertake and is used to both highlight key areas for inexperienced drifters to work on, and engage those with experience through accurately articulated knowledge.
In researching Takumi Fujiwara for this investigation of his role as a celebrity, I found it interesting that digital artefacts dedicated to the character largely deal with Takumi as a real person, rather than a constructed identity who’s story is still being written. Imaginary social relationships with celebrities as part of a constructed reality have been well documented (Alperstein 1991), but I believe this can be much more simply explained by a relationship nurtured in audience members through physically and mechanically accurate portrayals of drift culture, with the mirrored reality easy to describe in similar ways to ‘real’ experiences.
Reading back, I notice that after perspicuously pointing out the fact that Takumi is not a ‘real’ person, I return to describing Takumi and his car as almost a part of reality, something I can only explain as a result of my resonation with the series and the way it has informed my exploration of drift culture. Travelling to Japan last year, my companions and I felt compelled to complete a pilgrimage to the famous water tower you see above, a location recreated as the starting point of each downhill battle on Mt Akina, known in reality as Mt Haruna. In our travels, we also stumbled across an unbelievably organised street drift meeting on a hidden touge, surprised to find galleries of spectators and organised teams just as I had seen in Initial D. The deeper I have delved in to drift culture, the more I appreciate the emphasis placed on accuracy in Initial D.
Trying to comprehend the notion of celebrity and the consumption of Initial D by an individual external to drift culture, I realise how heavily my own experiences have informed my encounters with the series, and my subsequent analysis. Fans of the series with no interest in drifting, if such individuals exist, may enjoy Initial D from a purely performative perspective, experiencing for entertainment purposes something as purely imaginary as any other anime topic. In considering this, I now realise that my analysis of celebrity is entirely reflective of what I have taken from the show, and that others may idolise other characters, vehicles or aspects of the series that I am yet to consider. That being said, I do believe that I represent an important segment of Initial D’s contemporary audience and as such, my investigation provides at least some insight to the idea of celebrity in relation to Initial D.
References:
Alperstein, M 1991, ‘Imaginary Social Relationships with Celebrities Appearing in Television Commercials’, Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media, vol.35, no.1, pp.43-58
Hearing of Initial D through peers in the drifting community, and seeing it referenced regularly on automotive forums, I became motivated to investigate the show for myself. As is the case for most anime, I knew it was unlikely that I would encounter Initial D on Australian free-to-air television, so I began tracking down torrents containing each ‘Stage’ (the term used to describe each addition to the storyline). As someone who had only encountered English-dubbed anime in the past, I was happy to find the first two ‘Stages’ in their dubbed form, and became instantly enthralled by the faithful recreation of popular vehicles used in drifting and the driver inputs required to make them do so, such as pedal and steering techniques.
After completing the ‘Second Stage’, I found that dubbed versions were no longer available; something I later learnt was due to licensing issues with TOKYOPOP, the series’ North American distributor. Initially hesitant to continue, I pushed through the language barrier and found myself increasingly appreciative of the more faithful textual translation of the Japanese language provided in subtitles. By the time I’d reached the ‘Final Stage’, I realised how important attempts at articulating the nuances of Japanese language were to my understanding of the plot, and begun questioning what I may have missed in dubbed anime I had previously enjoyed.
NOTE: Turn captions on to view subtitles
For this post, I encountered the subtitled version of Initial D’s first episode for the first time. To make any differences obvious, I watched both the subtitled and dubbed version in tandem, flicking back and forth between the two and examining the subtle differences in translation. I noticed that whilst fairly close in simple translation, the dubbed version failed to accurately communicate context, tone and the respect that is central to Japanese language, instead ‘Westernising’ character communication by adding what I can only explain as attempts at accentuating humour that I believe a Japanese audience would find rude. I found that a comparison of the two clips embedded above highlights this particularly well, with the first encounter between the Akina Speed Stars and the Akagi Red Suns taking on two distinctly different meanings.
Analysing my observations, I realise that while falling for the ingrained East-West dichotomy, I am in-fact comparing two different ways for English-speaking individuals to access a niche anime that appeals to drift enthusiasts. Having taken part in the Japanese drift culture, meeting a number of Japanese drifters and experiencing the unbelievably organised street drifting subculture first-hand, I realise that I am not only reading the subtitles for their textual meaning, but also through a lens of my own personal experience and at least a superficial understanding of Japanese culture. It is because of this personal experience that I realise I cannot quite grasp the true meaning of anime without a fluency in Japanese, so that in effect, the more I know about Japanese culture, the less I understand due to losses in translation. Due to my fascination with Japan, however, I do not find this discouraging, instead attempting to further my understanding by accessing Japanese media in forms I can understand. In this way, it may have been a blessing that I first encountered the dubbed version of Initial D, as it suited my understanding of Japan at that time, and if small alterations through translation are required in the pursuit of cultural compatibility, then so be it.
Initial Dave 