The body and animation were made for each other. As Sight and Sound defines animation, “Appropriately enough, the word comes from the Latin anima meaning> breath or spirit. Thus, an animator gives life to inert materials” (June 1996: 12). Or, as the manga (comic book) artist Yukito Kishiro puts it, on seeing his drawings transformed into animated video, “(When) I saw the finished video (I) thought to myself, ‘Whoa, it's moving’ and ‘Whoa, it's in color’” (Animerica 1, no. 8 (1993): 8.

Animation of course can animate any sort of “inert material.” Indeed, Japanese animators can do marvelous things with nature (Miyazaki Hayao's Nausicaa, for example); with urban architecture (Otomo Katsuhiro's Akira, for instance); and with technology in general, (practically any science fiction animation out there). The greatest challenge in animation, however, as in art in general, is clearly the human body.

More than any other genre (with the possible exception of horror, with which it is often linked1), pornography brings the body to the fore, not only in terms of sexuality, but also in relation to aesthetics, gender, and, perhaps surprisingly, social identity. The related themes of power and domination are played out in pornography in the interaction of male and female bodies. Often these themes are played out in surprising ways, especially in Japanese animation.

There is no question that much of Japanese pornographic animation portrays disturbingly violent relationships between men and women.