Warau Kyuuketsuki

Let me get this off my chest; you know what! Suehiro's work is breathtaking, period!

I've always wanted to write a review for Warau Kyuuketsuki, but I wasn't sure where to start. I don't want to create a poorly done review for this manga because it's one of the few that has significantly influenced how I draw, and it's on my favorites list.

I guess I'll give it a try. Here goes...

If you're not into vampires or scenes of mutilation, then YOU SHOULD read this one—it might change your mind. Why? Because I'm telling you! This manga features crazy-ass vampires mixed with unhinged characters. By the time you finish reading, you'll be left thinking, "What the heck was that?" My point is, it's not trying to win you over with charm. Instead, it wants to disturb you so much that you wouldn't even tell your parents you read it.

The story is straightforward: evil takes over good, good turns evil, and BOOM! Things are about to get wild. It's a quick read, probably why every turned page is illustrated in great detail, with a ton of effort put into it. The art style is both alluring and horrifying at the same time. You'll feel like whoever created Warau Kyuuketsuki really took their time to craft something out of passion. If you appreciate the macabre, you know exactly what I mean.

I don't want to spoil anything, so yeah! That's it.

I've been a fan of horror manga and eroguro since my high school days, thanks to the works of Junji Ito and Shintaro Kago. Alongside Naoki Urasawa, these mangaka sparked my interest in reading manga. Although I was familiar with Suehiro Maruo's work around that time, due to a friend recommending "The Strange Tale of Panorama Island," it wasn't until about a year ago that I first read "Warau Kyuuketsuki." This came after a long hiatus from manga and anime, but it rekindled my passion for these media, leading me on a binge through Maruo's works, which eventually introduced me to Shuuzou Oshimi and beyond. I've always been captivated by Suehiro Maruo's manga, almost hopelessly drawn to it, yet understanding what exactly hooks me has always eluded me. What is it about his macabre themes and visually kaleidoscopic, disorienting style that I can't look away from? And why does something seem missing in Shuuzou Oshimi's works, despite their clear debt to Maruo? Rereading "Warau Kyuuketsuki" made me realize how its characters and imagery have subtly guided my thinking over the past year. After delving into Georges Bataille and Julia Kristeva's writings, I gained a clearer idea of what I love about Maruo's work and what it means to me. Suehiro Maruo was friends with Saeki Toshio (who passed away last year) and Terayama Shuji. Ultimately, I think these three men were fascinated by dissecting our subconscious apparitions. That's where the horror and drama lie. This story isn't frightening because of vampires; it's terrifying because of the nihilistic violence humans inflict upon each other out of fear or desire. The erotic elements aren't physically arousing; they're sublime. The horror elements aren't fist-clenching; they're heartbreaking. These stories reveal how the unspeakable, taboo contents of the human mind and collective unconscious keep us trapped in perpetual misery. What we desire is forever out of reach, and what we fear and hate is the futility of our aspirations, the absence of hope and meaning in our lives. These feelings, and society's role in stoking our desires and subsequent anguish, cause us to lash out. Yet, our struggle within this cage, the drama of it all, even as we hurt ourselves or others, is both horribly sad and beautiful. This story begins with panels that seem to allude to the bombing of Hiroshima (though "Crying Vampire," the final ten pages serving as a prequel, places Onna as a vampire during the Taisho period). Rakuda Onna, the monstrous source of the other characters' vampirism (by way of the bomb), is born from the rubble of this horrific event, much like the deranged artist in Hino Hideshi's "Panorama of Hell." The impact of the atomic bombs on humanity's collective identity, especially Japanese consciousness, cannot be overstated, evident in countless works by Japanese writers and artists. Think of Godzilla. Lately, I've wondered if the world didn't end in some way when those bombs dropped. In "Hiroshima Mon Amour," the impact was described as the city being lifted into the sky and falling back as ash. This act of violence committed by men against men showed an indifference to the visceral, unfathomable consequences on distant, innocent people. This event concretizes the obliteration of meaning and births a perpetual fear of living in a world without principles, where mass murder could happen at any moment. Life couldn't ever be the same. H.P. Lovecraft wrote to capture the horror of living in a vast, uncaring cosmos. "Warau Kyuuketsuki" captures the horror of living among humans who share Lovecraft's insight: an awareness that we live in a universe devoid of God, meaning, or eternal consequences. Yet tragically, we must live as if there is meaning. Some try to do good, treating each other well, surrounded by evidence that humans lack inherent goodness. Our innocence is gone, and our attempts to be good are hindered by countless people exploiting relativism and nihilism to justify their selfishness and disregard for others. In "Warau Kyuuketsuki," characters confront the horrific truth about human life one by one. Their innocence dies, and they seek revenge, but life itself becomes their only target. They transfer their animosity onto those who wrong them or seem immoral. As Sotou drowns, Luna asks in a soliloquy whether Sotou was mentally ill or if life makes people this way. Earlier, she explains to Mori (or vice versa, it's unclear who speaks here) that the moon is a hole in our black evening sky into another world filled with light. Light no longer exists in our world; it's always somewhere else, a place we're locked out of. Vampires are alive yet not alive, surviving off human life force like parasites, regardless of suffering. Here, they're born from the destruction of innocence, shattering idealistic possibilities. When Luna faces loathsome reality after rape and witnessing mutual manipulation between peers and the elderly, she tells her mother she's been bitten by a vampire (though, unbeknownst to her, she hasn't literally been bitten). She gives herself a tattoo resembling the Batman symbol (her adolescent trauma, similar to Bruce Wayne's, spurs her transformation). In such a world, liberating possibilities are death or ecstatic pleasure so powerful it momentarily dispels subjective consciousness. For these characters, death is impossible, and sex is replaced by ingesting untainted blood, harvesting the most innocent forms of life. Yet, the more they kill, the more their bodies age and weaken. Pleasure requires suffering; they're two sides of a coin, like sacred and profane, freedom and imprisonment, transgression and limit. This story manifests these notions through metaphor. Vampirism surrounds us, and light is always elsewhere, accessible briefly amid frenzied, inhuman states, always at a cost.

Oh boy, the art in this manga is so viscerally good. My favorite aspect is simply how pleasing it is to look at. The effort put into it is undeniable.

The story, however, occasionally ventures into overly intense territory for my taste. I first read this as a child, and that disturbing scene with the girl and the clown haunted me for weeks. I swear, it was unforgettable from a 'wow, that's disturbing' perspective.

I'm not particularly fond of vampire horror or child protagonists who behave like adults. Sure, maybe some kids are like that, but I never encountered any children like that. It slightly diminishes the believability for me, but oh well, it’s whatever.

If you appreciate great art and enjoy the subversion of the typical sparkling vampires trope (which might be more common nowadays), then definitely check it out.

I would describe Laughing Vampire as more of an adventure story with a profoundly dark atmosphere, rather than a traditional horror tale. On the spectrum between Dracula and Twilight, this work firmly resides in the Dracula camp. It heavily emphasizes classic vampire tropes associated with their monstrous nature. Death is a frequent visitor, and secondary characters often meet swift ends. The narrative is thrilling but can be challenging to follow due to its disjointed flow from panel to panel. Additionally, the abundance of psychedelic scenes adds to the confusion. Unfortunately, many aspects, particularly those concerning vampirism's essence, remain unexplained by the conclusion.

The artwork is vivid and expressive, perfectly complementing the gritty ambiance. Character designs are intriguing, featuring some less common archetypes like the hag and the foreigner. These designs evolve subtly alongside the characters themselves. The psychedelic sequences are especially marvelous. While there is a significant amount of bloodshed, it never feels gratuitous. There are also numerous sexually charged scenes, though some may feel out of place within the broader tone.

I appreciated the diverse cast of characters. Although individual character development is somewhat uneven, the interplay among them compensates for this. Fans of Dracula will find the vampires portrayed here to be fittingly dramatic, even bordering on exaggerated. Their ferocity and madness propel the plot forward.

Laughing Vampire is recommended for those who enjoy classic vampire stories or narratives about humans transforming into monsters within a dark, brooding setting.

Warau Kyuuketsuki isn't focused on plot, and it's crucial to approach this manga without anticipating a brilliant storyline or deep character development. The true brilliance of this manga lies in its artistry. Every page features panels arranged with the utmost precision, and each panel is packed with an extraordinary level of detail. Suehiro Maruo's genius shines through his ability to guide the reader's eye across a page, subtly altering the message of an image by adding just one extra line. There's no wasted space, no ink used without purpose.

The scenes resemble an art film. Characters' poses, the movement in their hair, even a slight fold in the curtains—all are meticulously crafted and deliberate. This sets the stage for some intense drama. Ero-guro deals with themes of sexual corruption, hedonism, and evil. Warau Kyuuketsuki primarily serves as a vehicle for catharsis, and Maruo creates a truly decadent atmosphere.

Let's touch on the story and characters. They're intentionally one-dimensional, meant to be simple and shallow, acting as blank mannequins for Maruo to manipulate. That’s essentially what he does: he takes a dull axe to the classic archetypes of hero stories. By "manipulate," I also mean that they meet rather gruesome fates.

It should be evident by now that I'm not an artist, lacking the precise vocabulary to fully describe what I see, so I highly recommend you experience it yourself. Given its historical significance as Maruo's magnum opus and a landmark contribution to horror manga, it's worth a look.

So I stumbled upon this story through Joey’s recent video upload (titled "Some Great Horror Manga To Read This Halloween" on YouTube, definitely give it a watch!). Right now, I'm utterly perplexed because, honestly, my friends, this story turned my reading experience into a continuous stumble hazard right up until the end, lol! However, I'm still unsure about how I feel regarding the conclusion, haha. Being a fan of the vampire genre, I found this narrative uniquely refreshing as it didn't rely on the cliché fangs and capes but instead featured vampires with their eerie smiles, chomping away with their gleaming teeth (which sounds weird when I say it out loud, but oh well). It's twisted, yet there's so much happening that I'm left feeling 50/50 about the whole thing. The animation was incredibly detailed; rather than being scared, I was completely mesmerized, haha.

If you're into the vampire genre and fancy getting lost in a story without fretting over the plot, then this is definitely worth checking out!