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Let us talk too seriously about DBZ: Vegeta, SSJ1, and a fear of self-directed rage.
Dear dub: you royally blundered this bit, didn't you. "I didn't care, I didn't care about being better than Kakarot, I didn't care about being a Super Saiyan," my ass.
That—that is something entirely different.
I've reached the point in the show where my firsthand knowledge becomes spotty—I saw the prelude to the Android Saga, missed some stuff after that, saw some of the middle episodes, read some of the later chapters, much of it out of order and over a significant time gap. Come the later sagas, I've only seen bits and pieces. Of course I know what happens—I have plenty of secondhand knowledge via my involvement in fandom. But seeing it firsthand, properly arranged, is a wholly different experience. Likewise I knew about changes to the English dub: fandom-gleened knowledge told me they were there, some of them were obvious, but I'd yet to see the source material and witness the differences for myself—in things like production quality, but also in things like content.
So I knew that Vegeta hit SSJ1 through self-directed rage. I knew because I'd seen the transformation in the dub, even if his monologue had been changed; because rage is how SSJ1 works, and it's what the wikis point to.
But I know it now, not intellectuality but personally, and from the heart, having seen it, experienced it—
and yes, here we grow silly, me and my anime obsession, but fuckit I don't care
—is terrifying. What draws me to Vegeta is his character type, a character type I should finish that essay about someday: the strong rendered powerless, the badass bitch. I find the tension between the character's potential strength and situational weakness complex and compelling, because it's a combination that causes character suffering and demands character depth. I also adore Vegeta because he's so shamelessly nasty—he's an awful person, no bones about it, and that makes for awesome character interactions, meaningful backstory, and some plain old fun. I've written essays before (yes, a dork, I know) about these things are connected: how Vegeta's nature, and the history that created it, is often what makes it so difficult for him to take advantage of the opportunities that others like Goku can successful exploit. Or, in Goku's words:
And Vegeta's are not, and he suffers for it. He suffers for it because he doesn't have the sort of social connections that are strong enough to trigger SSJ1's rage—but Goku does. Because he can't unite with the universe and harvest its energy—but Goku can. Because again and again he fights and loses, because he can't become quite strong enough, and his own failure hurts worse than any injury ever could.
And sometimes he comes out of his tears in a blaze of anger, and he finds power not by changing or bettering or uniting, but by hating himself so much that he can overcome himself.
I find Vegeta fun and sexy and fascinating, but I also find him sympathetic—because his character is surprisingly well-developed, but also because it hits home. I understand what it is to have a division within oneself, a division so deeply rooted and long-lasting that it's nearly indelible. I understand being unable to achieve—not because you don't have the potential, but because you can never exploit it. I can't understand a self-hatred quite so strong as his because I have never been there, but I know that sometimes that place has been just this side of the horizon, and seeing it in the distance terrified me. I used to compare myself to a phoenix, when I was constantly crashing and burning and rising again; now I live at a more even pace, and that's a good thing. But what would I do, on that barren rock, in the middle of that electrical storm? I would fail and fall, but would I burn brightly afterwards?
Would I want to?
(Juu blogs too seriously about a silly TV show, post #52. And thank goodness the art in this episode was above-par, is all I'm saying. Awesome episodes deserve awesome art, but the very next one—with its awesome character interactions—had sad and shitty art. It happens to the best of 'em.)
"The time came when I realized I was at my limit. [In the flashback: "I'll never surpass Kakarotto like this!"] And then, from the anger I felt towards myself, the Super Saiya-jin within me suddenly awoke! I was left shaking from the joy it gave me. Finally I had overcome Kakarotto, and the time for me to return as Prince of the Saiya-jin had come."
That—that is something entirely different.
I've reached the point in the show where my firsthand knowledge becomes spotty—I saw the prelude to the Android Saga, missed some stuff after that, saw some of the middle episodes, read some of the later chapters, much of it out of order and over a significant time gap. Come the later sagas, I've only seen bits and pieces. Of course I know what happens—I have plenty of secondhand knowledge via my involvement in fandom. But seeing it firsthand, properly arranged, is a wholly different experience. Likewise I knew about changes to the English dub: fandom-gleened knowledge told me they were there, some of them were obvious, but I'd yet to see the source material and witness the differences for myself—in things like production quality, but also in things like content.
So I knew that Vegeta hit SSJ1 through self-directed rage. I knew because I'd seen the transformation in the dub, even if his monologue had been changed; because rage is how SSJ1 works, and it's what the wikis point to.
But I know it now, not intellectuality but personally, and from the heart, having seen it, experienced it—
and yes, here we grow silly, me and my anime obsession, but fuckit I don't care
—is terrifying. What draws me to Vegeta is his character type, a character type I should finish that essay about someday: the strong rendered powerless, the badass bitch. I find the tension between the character's potential strength and situational weakness complex and compelling, because it's a combination that causes character suffering and demands character depth. I also adore Vegeta because he's so shamelessly nasty—he's an awful person, no bones about it, and that makes for awesome character interactions, meaningful backstory, and some plain old fun. I've written essays before (yes, a dork, I know) about these things are connected: how Vegeta's nature, and the history that created it, is often what makes it so difficult for him to take advantage of the opportunities that others like Goku can successful exploit. Or, in Goku's words:
"If body and mind ain't completely united, you won't get any great power."
And Vegeta's are not, and he suffers for it. He suffers for it because he doesn't have the sort of social connections that are strong enough to trigger SSJ1's rage—but Goku does. Because he can't unite with the universe and harvest its energy—but Goku can. Because again and again he fights and loses, because he can't become quite strong enough, and his own failure hurts worse than any injury ever could.
And sometimes he comes out of his tears in a blaze of anger, and he finds power not by changing or bettering or uniting, but by hating himself so much that he can overcome himself.
I find Vegeta fun and sexy and fascinating, but I also find him sympathetic—because his character is surprisingly well-developed, but also because it hits home. I understand what it is to have a division within oneself, a division so deeply rooted and long-lasting that it's nearly indelible. I understand being unable to achieve—not because you don't have the potential, but because you can never exploit it. I can't understand a self-hatred quite so strong as his because I have never been there, but I know that sometimes that place has been just this side of the horizon, and seeing it in the distance terrified me. I used to compare myself to a phoenix, when I was constantly crashing and burning and rising again; now I live at a more even pace, and that's a good thing. But what would I do, on that barren rock, in the middle of that electrical storm? I would fail and fall, but would I burn brightly afterwards?
Would I want to?
(Juu blogs too seriously about a silly TV show, post #52. And thank goodness the art in this episode was above-par, is all I'm saying. Awesome episodes deserve awesome art, but the very next one—with its awesome character interactions—had sad and shitty art. It happens to the best of 'em.)