Is it sensible for a 2D animated series to remaster its earliest episodes? Even if the remasters are meant to replace them?
Before I continue, let me clarify what I mean by a ‘remaster.’ Remastering is the act of taking an original and changing the quality of the sound and/or image quality, preferably for the better. It is not the same as a remake. Remakes involve partial or total changes to the story’s timeline, pacing, and/or the script. It introduces more variables that may affect how the audience receives the changes. Here is a good resource for further reading. For simplicity’s sake and the direction I want to lead this discussion, I will focus on remasters rather than remakes.
I arrived at this question when revisiting some of the Japanese animated TV series I watched as a kid. For some of them, there was a noticeable difference in quality between its first and final season. Some even showcased a difference within one season, with the final episodes looking less sloppy or much more consistent. I then wondered what one of these series would look like if it were refined to today’s standards of a “quality animation.” There’s no doubt that the standards are much higher than before, whether it’s higher competition or better tools. After all, computer programs have come a long way. Years and years of iteration and a higher general awareness for how to code has allowed the tools to grow increasingly efficient. Computer processing power is also significantly higher than before, with mainstream processors clocking at higher speeds and sporting higher core counts.
So, with better tools, (possibly) better talent, and the nostalgic love for those old series that were a little rough on the edges, even for the time they aired, why don’t we see a remaster for every single popular series from the ‘80s? The ‘90s? Or even the 2000s?
Well, there are several hurdles.
For one, there could be licensing issues. The original studio may not be interested in tidying up nor allowing another studio to do it for them.
Two, the original footage simply may not be around anymore. This is more of an issue for older shows produced on physical cels and film. Even if the material is still around, it may be missing portions or too difficult and expensive to set up to justify. In the far future, even digital cels will experience the same issue as modifications to computer code renders old files unreadable, much like how floppy discs are practically unreadable today.
Third, nostalgia. Nostalgia is a powerful yet enigmatic emotion that manifests itself in everyone differently. For some, it can drive them to crave for new content under the same title, one that shaped their childhood. However, at the same time, it can drive others to express strong apprehension and disapproval, especially if there are drastic changes in the style or voice acting. Maybe they preferred the old style. Maybe they loved the strange kinks that were present in almost every animation from a certain decade, even if they are not ideal for today’s standards. Or maybe there’s just “a certain charm to them,” a layman’s way of saying, “No matter what objective improvements are made, it’s just not the same as the way I remember it, and I would rather they not touch it.” Nostalgia is enough of a headache to navigate that most directors would prefer to pursue a remake instead, giving them the flexibility to capture a new generation of fans while retaining a sizable amount of the old fanbase. This is Pokemon’s strategy of immortalizing itself.
Fourth, did I mention the expense for a diminishing return? A remaster will not get the same amount of media coverage as the original release. Possibly the only way is to completely miss the beat and generate fierce backlash, which is not something a director is keen on doing. Faithful remasters also don’t offer a lot of fresh content for those who aren’t crazy about the nuances in the animation technique or visual effects. Most may prefer to search for new content instead. Maybe, if they’re feeling nostalgic for it a few years later, fans may return to the series again and then see the remaster. But that’s a long time to wait for a return on investment. And now, the studio is making money off of the remaster rather than the original. That money may as well be tacked onto the original budget.
There is a counter-argument to the fourth hurdle, however. It could be justifiable, for hit series that make a ridiculous amount of money, to work on a remaster to help it age better. That way, future audiences may give it a chance rather than immediately turn away because they can’t stand how old or bland it looks. Madoka Magica did this with their Bluray release, adding more detail into the environment. And while we’re on that topic, a remaster also provides another chance to make money off of selling physical copies to those who already owned the original. Suddenly, they need to go out and buy the series again in order to have the latest and greatest. The one caveat is, owning physical copies of shows these days is becoming the exception, not the rule.
In conclusion, depending on how big the touch-ups are and how important longevity is to the bottom line, it may be sensible for a series to jump a few hurdles to remaster the episodes that need it the most.
But let’s not stop there. That would be too short for a ramble. Let’s shift the conversation on sensibility in a different direction, closer to what drove me to mull on this topic. What if we disregard the monetary value of refinement and focus on the artistic value? Focus on the pursuit of excellence, the feeling that drives the industry standards higher each decade. In that regard, is it sensible?
Let’s give a scenario. Say, for example, the earliest episodes couldn’t achieve the director’s vision because the budget was low. Later, the series gained popularity and street cred, giving them the budget and the opportunity to set things right. At best, this involves minor adjustments to post processing or backgrounds. In the most extreme cases, this would involve a complete overhaul: redoing the backgrounds, fixing awkward in-betweens, adjusting eyes that may be too big, adjusting any other proportions that do not fit the style, or ultimately redrawing action that was simply deemed to be inadequate. Maybe even recast or redo some of the voice acting or soundtrack. That’d be a darn expensive perfection to pursue, a kind of remastering that is borderline to a remake. Certainly a kind of remaster I’d be ambitious (or absurd) enough to pursue if I was put in such a scenario.
Would there be any way to justify my perfection in the guise of financial benefits? Well, not just in guise, because I openly admit I’m a perfectionist. A better way to put it is: would there be a way to make this financially work? Because that is the only way to inject sensibility into the project when you talk with the producer. I thought of this while writing the portion of my thesis where I analyze the adaptation from manga to animation for the hit-series Fullmetal Alchemist. I debated whether it would have been better for the series to wait several years before producing the adaptation in order to avoid the consequence of having two different animated series: one original to the story set by the animation studio and one faithful to the manga. The split was a consequence of the first series catching up to the manga, then needing to make up the rest itself. In my analysis, I asked myself: if I were put in the same situation, would I have asked the studio to wait or take advantage of the hype before it died down?