Why the entertainment industry loves criminals (or, a review of Gunsmith Cats)
I don’t go to obscure anime, guys, it comes to me. Recently, it came to me in the form of “Gunsmith Cats,” a show so far buried in the avalanche of anime history that there is only one Tumblr blog dedicated to it. And here I thought no fandom was too small for Tumblr.
The “Gunsmith Cats” manga is an eight-volume story by Japanese artist Kenichi Sonoda, but the anime version (which is all I’m familiar with at this stage) is a three-episode adaptation available in an English dub and sub.
The series is set in Chicago and follows bounty hunter Rally Vincent and self-taught explosives enthusiast May Hopkins, who together own a gun store called Gunsmith Cats. The two accidentally get embroiled in an investigation by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives (ATF). Agent (and mandatory Rally love interest) Bill Collins is investigating a gun-running operation and suspects that the gang has a mole in the bureau that’s keeping them one step ahead. Meanwhile, a senator (whose name I don’t recall) is running for Chicago mayor on a strict gun-control platform.
To cut a long story short, after many violent and admittedly well-stylized shootout scenes in which Rally and May display an impressive capacity for violence and indiscriminate destruction, it turns out that (MAJOR SPOILER INCOMING) the mole and indeed, the mastermind behind the gun-running gang was the senator the whole time! His gun-control platform was a ruse designed to run up the prices of firearms so he could make even bigger profits!
DUN DUN DUN!
To say that I was surprised at this turn of events is an understatement, and it’s not because the mystery was so well crafted either. Japan is well-known for having very strict gun laws, and less than one per cent of the civilian population owns a gun. You can count the number of annual gun-related deaths in Japan on one hand.
The question asks itself, then: why would a Japanese manga artist write an anti-gun control story?
Some expert Googling led me to this interview with Sonoda where he talks about the creation of “Gunsmith Cats.” In it, he says that guns are his “biggest passion” — he has a collection of model guns and is subscribed to three gun magazines. But because of Japan’s gun laws, he doesn’t own an actual gun. In fact, he’s only ever fired a gun at gun ranges in the United States.
So…that’s kinda weird. I’m not sure how you develop a passion for something before you’ve even done it.
But let’s set that aside, because what really stood out to me from the interview was this tidbit:
I chose Chicago in part because so many action manga have been set in New York already, but also because of the reputation Chicago has, even all the way over in Japan — you know, the city of Al Capone, prohibition gun battles, and tough cops.
Some of you may not know this, but Chicago has a terrible reputation as a mob-infested sewer of crime pretty much all over the world. Sorry, Chicagoans. But it’s true. In fact, there is a series of ‘60s-era Egyptian comedy movies called “The Most Dangerous Man in the World,” in which a high-profile mobster comes to Cairo to conduct his evil mobster business. On several occasions he boasts that he ain’t scared of nobody, ’cause he was raised in the worst neighborhoods of Chicago! Needless to say, this quickly became a national catchphrase.
When I first moved to Las Vegas in 2014, the first landmark I hit up was the National Museum of Organized Crime and Law Enforcement, known more coolly as The Mob Museum.
One of the Top 10 Awesomest Museums of Life, The Mob Museum features a comprehensive history not just of how the mafia established itself in the United States (and its not insignificant role in making Vegas what it is today), but also of how the FBI investigated and prosecuted the mob over the years. In one exhibit, you get to sit in the actual courtroom where a Senate Special Committee investigation into organized crime was held in 1950. There, you watch taped footage of the investigation. In another, you get to put yourself in the shoes of an FBI agent and listen to real recordings the FBI got of mobster conversations. But what’s more relevant to this article is that the museum shows how in Prohibition times, the mobsters who traded in illegal alcohol were seen by many as heroes, “giving,” as Al Capone once said, “the people what they want.” Ordinary citizens were happy to cover for gangsters when the police came calling because they didn’t particularly feel that they were doing anything wrong. The mob also promoted the myth that they did not deal in hard drugs, which fostered public approval while being categorically untrue.
Aside from this sort of Robin Hood-esque draw, there’s something appealing in the idea of a family-based crime system. The family that racketeers together stays together, and blood relations lend themselves to all kinds of juicy drama. The entertainment industry is primed to tap into that, and thus we get “The Godfather” (incidentally, in “Godfather II” there’s a scene set in that Las Vegas courthouse), “Scarface,” and “Goodfellas.” The mob had deep ties to Los Angeles and film production companies as well (mobster Henry Hill, whose life “Goodfellas” was based on, saw the movie and spoke to Ray Liotta, who played him), so its not surprising that they were also fodder for inspiration.
The reality of course is that mobsters are about as related to each other as your coworkers are. They deal in money and violence, and while supposedly one of the conditions of becoming a “made man” is to be good to your family, somehow I feel like checking up on that is not the top priority of Mafia HR.
In the 1930 and ’40s, the Hays Code prohibited movies from showcasing crime and criminals in a sympathetic light (among other things). This, along with a rise in novels and comics were police officers and detectives were the stars, was part of a bid to de-glamorize organized crime and bring the public over to the government’s side. But you can’t make someone love you, and audience preferences and evolving moral codes in the post-war period eroded Hays until it was replaced in 1968 by the ratings system we have today.
By now you’ve probably forgotten that we were originally talking about “Gunsmith Cats.” But all this is related because I think it demonstrates how, in exporting American cultural material to the world, we recreate similar patterns in different social contexts. So while “Gunsmith Cats” is not a celebration of organized crime by any means, it’s still a condemnation of government. It reflects Sonoda’s frustrations in not being able to pursue his interests, and also betrays an almost universal distrust of politicians and those in power. In fact, while Agent Collins is ultimately the hero of the story, he is only able to uncover the conspiracy by openly defying the orders of the ATF Bureau chief, who (spoiler) turns out to be complicit. In some ways, then, the gangsters Rally and May alternately chase and run from are more honest and more sympathetic than the officials whose job it is to bring them to justice.
We all want money and power. The difference is that criminals are brutally honest about their motivations, whereas politicians must hide these baser instincts because no one wants to vote for a money-grubbing, self-serving jerk. Of course, since we believe they’re money-grubbing, self-serving jerks anyway, the point is moot. And so we write stories about cool cat criminals and corrupt police officers and the lone wolf outsiders who take them down.
Aside from his own personal issues, Sonada’s narrative choice in positioning the gun control advocate as a criminal hiding behind public office can be seen as a broader reflection of the human conflict with government. We need it, but we hate it, it protects us, it betrays us, it is just, it is cruel. In this sense, “Gunsmith Cats” is not so much a call for laxer gun laws (which here in America, at least, is not our problem) as it is a demand for the reinstatement of trust between we, the people, and those among us who have chosen to pursue and obtain power.
