It attracted attention. It took up a huge swath of floor space. Nothing even vaguely encroached on its territory. How much did this lavish exhibit cost to show off at Otakon? Nothing, thanks to an agreement between the con and Bandai. Because the booth was merely for exhibition purposes, it was exempt from standard dealer's room fees. But despite the lack of a flowing cash register, Bandai certainly stood to benefit from this display of corporate might. So did Otakon.
It was subtle but certainly noticed, when Otakon attendees walked through the door. They were given a choice between 8 different badge designs including characters from Cowboy Bebop, The Big O, and Gundam Wing. These images could not be placed in such a public display without permission, which meant that some manner of agreement had to be reached between Bandai Entertainment and Otakorp, the non-profit organization responsible for running Otakon. In this type of dealing, the con (whether it be Otakon or any other convention) is granted permission to use certain licensed images and programming. In return, the company might get floor space in the dealer's room for exhibition purposes. The company's logo and characters might be printed on the con pack bags and inside the program books. Perhaps even funding will be provided, constituting a formal sponsorship. Corporations may even influence what gets shown in the video rooms, though this may vary between con to con. For the company, it all comes down to advertising: what can we sell today?
It sounds unpleasant, especially to a community that prides itself on being underground and independent. But it is a necessity.
Cons are expensive to run. As they grow and maintain quality, they could use help in acquiring anime to show and guests to keep their high level of entertainment for their convention attendees. It makes sense. For example, if a convention is large enough to warrant a convention center then it certainly is well-known among the companies distributing anime here in the States. The corporation is all too aware of the potential audience they could snare at these gatherings, where attendance can top 10,000. The appeal is there, they just need to get their foot through the door. The convention organizers are aware of the corporate attraction, and what they have to offer in return.
As a convention "by fans for fans" Otakon tends to shy from corporate involvement. They do not accept sponsorships from companies, and they plan to keep this policy indefinitely. They do accept temporary donations of screening materials such as 35mm film prints, DVDs, etc, which are returned after the convention is over. Sometimes a company will help Otakon bring a guest to the US, and Otakon will acknowledge their contribution in some small way.
Other conventions take fuller advantage of corporate support, but in different ways. Shoujocon, based in New Jersey and run by the Shoujo Arts Society (a non-profit organization) will gladly accept it, as long as it's from companies wanting to promote shoujo-related anime. Not only do they appreciate the financial backing, they have an interest in helping the companies succeed selling their shoujo properties in the US. For example, in 2001,the goody bags handed out to congoers featured the logo of "I'm Gonna Be An Angel!", being released by Synch-Point and one of the con sponsors. Although they accept it, Shoujocon is very careful in accepting sponsorship to maintain the integrity of the con. They won't advertise non-shoujo anime, or let companies influence con programming unduly.
Many fans cast a wary eye towards corporate money, believing it to be a poison sullying their idealized view of what being a fan in the U.S. should be. But corporate sponsorship doesn't have to be the bane of fan culture. To show this, let's take a look at a con in another field. The Electronic Entertainment Expo is the pre-eminent video game industry event. That's right, industry event. The world of sponsors and big business. But most gamers would give their first-born or overclocked system to get in, because there's just so much to be excited about. New products being unveiled, announcements made, and games to be played. For a few short days nirvana exists on earth for those lucky enough to attend. Unfortunately, admittance is limited to industry and press.
The closest we've ever come to this level of commercialization on the East Coast was the Big Apple Anime Fest, which was held for the first time in late 2001. The organizers were trying a number of things with this convention. They attempted to breach the hostile convention territory that is New York City. They screened and even premiered a number of new anime films in 35mm. They spread their events over several miles, staking out space in the Park Central Hotel, the Director's Guild Theater, the Virgin Megastore in Times Square, the Japan Society, and even J&R Computer World down near City Hall, a mere block away from Ground Zero. The audacity was astounding, but not as much as the probable cost. No non-profit fan organization could pull something like this off. The organizer and major sponsor was Central Park Media. Unlike fan conventions they never have to worry about licensing and legalities and copyright infringement. Because they have the licensing, they have the legal right. Everything is above the board.
Their presence was glaring and obvious. A good deal of the anime shown was under license from Central Park Media. In that arena, nothing screened at the convention was unlicensed, everything on loan instead from one of many American anime companies. Most of the guests were directly related to the features being given their official American premieres at the festival, most notably Metropolis (Katsuhiro Otomo, Rintaro) and the English dub of Adolescence of Utena (Kunhiko Ikuhara, Rachael Lillis, Mandy Bonhomme, Crispin Freeman). The dealer's room was home to two tables run by Central Park Media, one directly under their banner and the second under their subsidiary Mangamania. The whole affair may have cost a fortune (especially given that attendance figures were sub par) but the promotion was certainly omnipresent and intrusive. There was no way to leave this convention without exposure to some CPM product or brand name.
Corporations don't see much harm in throwing money around if it could give them a major presence among their consumer base. Especially in light of the recent industry growth and increased presence. The new avalanche of anime releases from Central Park Media or Pioneer on DVD and programming blocks like Toonami and Kids WB! have given the medium attention never before felt, and a massive fanbase eager for more. In their lust for a medium still just out of the reach of the public spotlight these "new otaku" will go anywhere to bask in the glow, pay anything to get their fix. This devotion translates into increased attendance for the larger cons showcasing the more mainstream, well-known stuff. The corporations want in on this action, since this new audience has become their bread-and-butter (between licensing and merchandising). There is always more money in the mainstream.
So the convention gets support, and the corporation gets its face-time. The casual fans don't notice because they rarely look beyond their cable television or the shelves of the local Suncoast Video. Other otaku, the ones who read the news sites and get fansubs notice the lack of rare and unreleased anime in the video rooms. They notice the absence of fansubs and possibly doujinshi in the dealer's room. As the people who first indulged in this underground community, they certainly will see how above-the-board everything is. What a brave new world. To the fans that consider themselves "hardcore" or "independent", they view this as a threat, and have little regard for fans who aren't as familiar with the medium beyond their love of Dragonball Z or Ghost in the Shell.
While annoying and sometimes frustrating, change is not always bad or scary. This world (where everything is paid for by the higher powers we would not admit to worshipping) can be somewhat better, if we let it.
Anime conventions have always been about two things: seeing the latest anime from Japan and meeting with other fans. These are the two beating hearts of otakudom. The anime side has been clamped down. What about the fans themselves?
Conventions started as a way for the growing otaku community to meet and discuss their obsession, to swap information and goods, to bask in the light of their favorite videos, and in the end, have a rousing good time doing it. For many years we have existed in a secluded utopian citadel where everyone was happy and entranced. Now some fans view corporate sponsorship as an influx into our kingdom and the walls are stressed and breaking. If and when they break will we be ready? Like a city on the brink of the Industrial Revolution will we be willing to embrace industry in order to support our burgeoning populace? Should we? Corporations provide money and security, which are good and solid things that conventions need to survive. Yet a stereotype of the common otaku is a disorganized, befuddled figure with a penchant for bootlegging and revelry. A partnership would mean changes in way we perceive the industry and ourselves as fans.
Corporate sponsorship is not totally evil. In anime fandom, at least, many companies are run by fans and genuinely dedicated to bringing out good product for the fans, so what's good for the companies is good for the fans. In this context cons accepting sponsorship are not whoring themselves out to the man, but maintaining a symbiotic relationship with the providers of the anime we all love.
Tsunami Magazine
Winter 2002
Special thanks to R. Grossman and E. Mendoza