Content Warning: This article contains: spoilers for Kill la Kill, non-explicit but NSFW images, discussion of sexual violence, discussion of sexuality, internalized transphobia, and me being very TMI and getting dangerously close to NOCAYB territory.
It’s a struggle many of us know all too well: you want to share art that means a lot to you with your friends, or family. But unfortunately for you, the art in question is pulp, and is chock full of skimpy costumes, questionable camera angles, and is just generally “gazey”. It immediately puts you on the back foot, puts you in a place of apologizing and justifying before you can even finish your recommendation. After all, you don’t want them to think you’re some sort of sad pervert, do you? Clearly this work, that means so much, must be better than its trappings. It has worth despite the fanservice.
Or is that just cope? Maybe you are just another pervert, but with enough self-awareness and shame to try and pretend you aren’t. Maybe you’re seeing depth that isn’t there, inventing justifications out of whole cloth1More like “hole” cloth!!! Because the outfit is skimpy and has little fabric, you see.. In the process of explaining yourself to a judgmental third party, your whole justification sand castle crumbles and you’re left with the cold hard facts.
Anyway hi, we’re talking Kill la Kill! I mean obviously, yeah? What anime features more in these sorts of “is it art or ecchi trash?” discourses that this one? Ever since its debut 11 and a half years ago (yes you are indeed that old) KLK has been divisive. To one side, it’s a layered commentary on fashion, fascism, femininity, family, and the pressures of coming of age in a misogynist society. To the other, it’s:
Where do I come down? Well, when I first watched Kill la Kill 10 years ago, my take was “I don’t like thinking about sexuality, please don’t make me!” PBS Idea Channel had a video about KLK examining it thematically and largely absolving it of the “mindless ecchi” charges, and that was good enough for me. I really loved my first viewing, and why wouldn’t I? Kill la Kill is an incredible ride, with gorgeous and gloriously over-the-top Studio Trigger animation and a bonkers story that piles plot twist after plot twist into the final ~8 episodes in an exhilarating crescendo. But, despite Mike Rugnetta’s blessing I had misgivings. There was no denying that I also found the show arousing, and I was consequently really embarrassed and ashamed of that and kind of desperate for an alternate explanation for why I liked it. I often felt like my sexuality was an imposing, almost predatory presence back in those days. If something was turning me on there must be something wrong with it.2I hope you took the content warnings seriously, I was not kidding!
And honestly, that’s not fair to KLK, nor myself. I’m a very different person these days. I’m far more comfortable with my own sexuality, and less prone to spiraling or second-guessing myself on my own reactions to erotically-charged art. Transition is pretty important here; feeling like just another clueless, brutish straight man was dysphoria and internalized transphobia talking, it turns out. And having skin in the game really helps me trust myself and my reactions. So a few months ago I decided to rewatch Kill la Kill, and actually see for myself if it genuinely had anything more on its mind than boobs.
That answer’s pretty complicated! Kill la Kill is thematically dense, which can feel odd to say about such a kinetic action cartoon. But like the best Studio Trigger works KLK wears its philosophy on its sleeve, articulating themes in big letters you can see all the way from the cheap seats. Sometimes literally! The show is, ultimately, about the clash between protagonist Ryuko Matoi and her rival, student council president Satsuki Kiryuin. Satsuki runs the rigid class system of Honnoji Academy, shaped by her unbreakable and unyielding will. Her Kamui is named “Junketsu”, or “Purity”, and when she transforms she calls it “Life Fiber Override“. She tries to win through denial of humanity, turning people into perfect cogs in her machine. In contrast, Ryuko is passionate and emotional, unabashedly human. Her Kamui, Senketsu, isn’t a tool she weilds but a friend she builds a relationship and rapport with. They strengthen each other (as the show puts it, she wears Senketsu as Senketsu is worn by her), and her transformation is called “Life Fiber Synchronize“.
Late in the series, Satsuki lays all her cards on the table, revealing that she’s working against her mother, against the Life Fiber takeover of humanity, and is fighting for Earth’s liberation. But she fails, because she’s using her mother’s methods. “The master’s tools” and all that. There’s very little sunlight between Life Fibers seeing humans as livestock and Satsuki seeing them as pawns. Ultimately, she only survives thanks to the genuine human bonds in her life, with her Elite Four. Ryuko, in contrast, excels thanks to her bond with Mako, an underachieving student slotted in the absolute bottom rung of Satsuki’s society. Like many of Trigger’s stories Kill la Kill is about the triumph of humanity over oppressive systems, about the beauty of each and every person’s individual spirit that will never fit as replaceable cogs. KLK runs for 26 episodes, but ultimately its conclusion is in the 24th, when Satsuki fully concedes to Ryuko that her way was wrong. This philosophical clash is the driving heart of Kill la Kill.
Damn, I nearly had you for a minute there huh? Sure, KLK shouts about all that philosophy and thematic junk, but then why all the T&A? Why does Ryuko have to fight nearly naked? Why does the show delight in placing her in even more compromising positions, ogling her implicitly while often having other characters ogle her explicitly. Why does Senketsu force himself on Ryuko in a scene that’s unmistakably an allegory for sexual assault? Why does Ragyo literally sexually assault Satsuki on multiple occasions? It’s all disgusting trash and not half as slick as it thinks it is. Oh, clothing is actually a fascist conspiracy to eradicate humanity, so we all need to fight back by joining Nudist Beach and if the pretty teenage girls want to lead the way who could say no? Come on man, I wasn’t born yesterday.
…okay but like, is that really fair? It’s not like the nudity and sexuality exist completely siloed away from the themes. Quite the opposite, in fact. Ryuko is only able to fully utilize Senketsu’s power by leaving behind her shame and embarrassment at her exposing costume. As Satsuki puts it, she has to stop “cling[ing] to the puritanical views of the masses”. Blood vs Purity isn’t just about temperament, it’s about sexuality as a means of social control. Junketsu is literally called Satsuki’s “wedding dress”, it’s not subtle.3Not that anyone would accuse this show of subtlety; I wasn’t kidding last paragraph, the rebel organization opposing the Kiryuins are literally called “Nudist Beach”, because they fight evil clothing you see. And Ragyo’s use of sexual assault fits right in. Patriarchy isn’t strictly pro or anti sexuality, after all. It’s anti-autonomy. You are to be sexual when we want you to and to be chaste when we want you to, and you aren’t allowed a say in the matter. Ragyo serves clothing, her master plan is to force all of humanity to wear her tainted clothing, and also she uses forced nudity as a punishment for her daughter and there is no contradiction there because the underlying logic is one of domination. I was genuinely shocked how well the sexual assault fit, thematically. Going into my rewatch I was sure that was the one element that would unambiguously be gross exploitation trash.
Counterpoint:
The whole premise of this rewatch was that I’m a different, more confident person now. And art is always a conversation between work and audience. Is there really all this depth and intentionality to Kill la Kill, or am I just bringing it all to the table myself? Would I really want to have to defend the constant leering, often textual, to a skeptical audience?
So, after all the waffling, where do I ultimately come down?
Kill la Kill is so fucking good, you guys. I had an incredible time, reaffirming it as one of my favorite shows ever. Ultimately, I think the question of “does it transcend its trashy elements” is the wrong one to ask. I think there are elements of shame and purity culture baked into it. It’s a step too far to say “if you don’t like Ryuko’s costume you’re slut-shaming” because she’s fictional, of course, but also it’s not entirely off base. I was more skeptical of KLK on my first watch, when I was ruled by shame over my own sexuality and wished nothing more than to deny its existence, and that’s not coincidental. The question isn’t “is KLK an insightful thematic work, or is it an excuse for T&A”. It’s “let’s analyze how KLK is both an insightful thematic work AND an excuse for T&A”. I think the instinct to apologize for “trash” art is ultimately wrongheaded. That’s the true wisdom I’ve gained in the decade between viewings.
Stray Observations:
I couldn’t think how to work this in to the main body, but I also love how Kill la Kill sets the stakes for its final battle by having Mako ask Ryuko out on a date. I love explicit queerness in general, of course, you always get bonus points with me by making the girls gay. But I think it fits really well with the themes of sexual repression as social control. It’s not like the Ragyos of the world are all that fond of the gays. We don’t fit their mold, after all. Our humanity makes us misshapen cogs. And it’s exactly that that’s worth fighting for.
It also fits well with my meta-theme of KLK being a dense show. I could have done an entire analysis of KLK as queer awakening. OR, I didn’t even mention the obvious connection between Senketsu (literally “fresh blood”) and menstruation as a right of passage. It’s a rich text.