Timeless Classics Told Through Anime

By this point we're all Children's Classics have made their way into anime and manga, from Ghibli to otome games, because there's a lot of interesting takes on your childhood classics out there.

If you've ever studied children's literature academically, you may have read that many of the older classics are at risk of being taken away from children by adult scholars – that is, they're being read by college students and not ten-year-olds. There's definitely an argument to be made for that statement, and it's also one that is taken into consideration in some of the anime versions of the books. For example, the 2014 Studio Ghibli TV series of dub is taken directly from Patricia Crompton's 1983 translation. Ronja (also written “Ronia”) is the single most faithful adaptation of a book to a film medium that I've ever seen, so how does it manage to make Mattis a bigger player without sacrificing authenticity? Largely it does that by slowing down the pacing of the novel so that 170 pages of book becomes twenty-six half-hour episodes of anime. This not only allows the show to elaborate on Ronja's adventures (the scene where she's stuck in the snow is a good example of this), but it also lets the anime embroider pieces of Lindgren's original narration to make the adult characters, particularly Mattis, play a larger role. Book Mattis is more of a man-child than anime Mattis, who is emotional but not nearly as immature, making him a more appealing character in general. He's really the only adult to get this treatment, with Ronja's mother Lovis remaining the source of stability in the background and Noddle-Pete and Lille-Klippen retaining their larger roles as players in Ronja's life. The show also somehow manages to make the gray dwarves and harpies even more terrifying than they are in the novel, which is an accomplishment, because those harpies gave me nightmares when I was eight. In its adaptation of the text, the anime manages to retain both the nightmare fuel and the wonder of the original while still taking into consideration minor changes that make it a true family show, making sure that this children's property, at least, remains in the hands of those it was originally written for.

Another adaptation that sticks very close to the source is the 1979 Anne of Green Gables TV series. This is actually a bit unusual, in that director Isao Takahata's previous two western novel series took some liberties, but whatever the reason, this fifty-episode show hits all of the highlights of L.M. Montgomery's classic Canadian book, from Anne breaking her slate over Gilbert's head to her putting flowers on her hat to go to church to the whole raspberry cordial fiasco. Although the art doesn't hold up as well as it might have, this series again retains the idea that this is a book for children, and unlike Ronja, Anne doesn't play with its characters' roles. What's more interesting to note is that both Lindgren's and Montgomery's novels are about strong girls making their way in the world, a theme that has undergone a lot more scrutiny as we've gotten farther away from when they were written. Although Anne's story dates to 1908 Canada while Ronja's is from 1981 Sweden (although set in the Medieval period), both tales share heroines who aren't going to take any garbage from anyone and who in some ways outstrip their time periods in of attitude. This may play a large part in why these two particular tales received such faithful television versions – almost nothing about them has to be updated for a modern audience's sensibilities. They're still just as appealing now as they were when they were written.

That's not something we can say about all novels, no matter how “classic” they are or how much we love them. Take Osamu Dezaki presented a more faithful but still kid-friendly variation. This one does follow the original novel more closely and keeps Stevenson's important subplot about Jim's relationship with Long John Silver as a father figure/betrayer intact. While Dezaki's version does have its scary moments (and the artistry of this series is really something), it's much less grim than Stevenson's novel, and forms a good introduction to the tale if you've never read it. Although less faithful than Anne of Green Gables or Ronja the Robber's Daughter, it's still an interesting example of an eastern view of a western tale, and in its case it seems fair to say that its update fits better with more contemporary sensibilities about what's appropriate for kids.

That's also true of the two anime versions of OAV is careful to stop before Beth dies, making her storyline feel much more hopeful than it actually is.

Of course, not all adaptations are going to cherry-pick so carefully with the goal of retaining the basic plot or feel of the original. Judy Garland than the original 1900 novel, and there's a further complication that the novel contains numerous political references that are largely lost today, similarly to how we don't understand most of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland's pop culture jokes. So when the 1982 film came out, Dorothy's slippers were red instead of the novel's silver even though the plot follows the book decently enough. 1983's fifteen-minute OAV, on the other hand, takes some definite liberties, putting the wizard in a castle in the forest and inexplicably making Dorothy's slippers pink. It also features the creepiest version of Scarecrow that I've ever seen, but that's neither here nor there. 1986 brought yet another Wizard version, this time a fifty-two episode TV series that actually covered four of Baum's novels - The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Marvelous Land of Oz, Ozma of Oz, and The Emerald City of Oz. While the first part remains faithful, the story starts to wander when it hits its second storyline, which in the original novel didn't include Dorothy. Although you can't really blame the show's writers for putting her in, it is a departure, and one that signifies even greater liberties taken with the third and fourth story arcs. Most notable is that in the end Dorothy returns to Kansas without Uncle Henry and Auntie Em ever coming to Oz, but there are numerous other details altered, from names to basic world-building facts. That latter is an issue given the political origins of the tales, but by 1986 that part of Baum's story had largely been lost in a strange reversal of the process that takes children's literature away from children – by leaving out those elements, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was more firmly put in the hands of kids.

Although 1989 saw a single episode retelling of the story, 1986 largely marked the “weirdness” line for Dorothy and her pals in of adaptations, and in 1992, The Brothers Grimm, so its ties to the original are pretty tenuous. Slightly more aligned with the books (and there's an emphasis on “slightly”) is the cellphone game Oz+ Shall We Date, where for Dorothy's seventeenth birthday the Wizard turns Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion human to bring her to Oz for a party. Dating options include gender-swapped good and wicked witches and Oz himself…though thankfully not Toto.