The Kishotenketsu struture of Digimon Adventure tri: an insight to traditional Japanese storytelling
The origin and logic of the Kishotenketsu structure
Kishotenketsu is a structure established and rooted within Japanese culture that is strongly tied to philosophical expressions of thought.
This form was brought to Japan through buddhist tales originally from China that typically followed a structure called chi-chen-juan-he (the Japanese writing tradition has only developed after the introduction of the Chinese ideographic language in Japan).
The chi-chen-juan-he narrative model served as a basis for other Eastern countries: it is called ki-sun-cho-kyul in Korea and Ki-sho-ten-ketsu in Japan. It is written with the same Chinese ideograms in the later, although it’s worth noting it has acquired subtle different traits during the time it has been appropriated there.
Chi-chen-juan-he is the basis of Chinese poetry. Matalene (in Contrastive rhetoric: An American writing teacher in China, 1985) explains its concepts of rhetorical practice and literary value have developed around the Confucianism classics, thus assimilating that the element absolutely necessary to judge the value of a given text is in its function of path to knowledge. As a path, the text must not tell the central topic that is being discussed, but rather invite the reader to delve into a process that will lead him into the heart of the main theme at the end.
The hints presented in the narrative should therefore pose as stimulus to provoque an attitude of reflection and thinking. The more the narrative opens the possibilities of interpretation without distorting the main theme, the greater its value.
The ideograms that shape the term chi-chen-juan-he represent the four different parts of this structure:
- Chi: the narrative begins with a static situation that is presented to the reader without, however, making the central topic too obvious. The protagonist and the general setting is displayed without judgement; this isn’t a phase dedicated to action. Only exposure.
- Chen: this part presents a situation that gives birth to the action within the narrative, and it triggers the dynamics within. We start to see some action and development.
- Juan: this part presents and develops another topic or situation that doesn’t seem directly related to the topic presented before at first glance. This part will be interspersed with another Chen, that will unfold into new Juan. This chain of Chen/Juan is what gives shape to the body of the narrative.
- He: this is the conclusion that may be compared to the aristotelic notion of “conclusion”; however, in this part, none of the ideas presented are “closed” or wrapped up. Nothing is to be answered, nor is there anything equivalent to the Western classic notion of “synthesis”. What you do get is a clearer idea of what so far has been the implicit intent of the narrative, because this part exists to present the larger theme that has acted as gravitational center, attracting to itself all the blocks (chen-juan) that until now have touched the heart of the question. It’s up to the reader to complete the vacant spaces presented by the subtopics.
This method of storytelling relies on a narrative interest in the transience of the facts and the way in which they are unfavorable to a given future expectation or closure. The central theme is always tangential and never addressed directly, and it’s up to the reader’s own perception to figure out what is the actual main theme that is being addressed.
It is completely different from the “western” aristotelic structure that sees the conclusion as the crowning point of a hero and every question is objectively answered to. The structure of kishotenketsu rejects that notion, and the “conclusion” (ketsu) is actually set to throw the story into a continuum, sometimes even creating the illusion the exposition had no purpose.
The goal of the author who resorts to this narrative structure isn’t to contend, nor is it to persuade the reader, but simply to encourage the reader to contemplate the fraction of the universe in display as an ocean of points of view gravitating around a given topic (Maynard, 1998). Not to establish one point of view above all others, but to show as many points of view as possible surrounding a given topic.
Following the directions given by Chi-chen-juan-he, we have in the Japanese version: Ki-sho-ten-ketsu.
First, the narrative presents a given setting (Ki). This part doesn’t have to lead to a final situation that solves the main conflict. Quite the opposite, the main theme will never be addressed directly but rather by its peripheral ends, by parallel events that will offer clues to the reader so he can deduce the central theme of the narrative on his own. The labyrinthine format that prevails in the narrative demands and stimulates an attitude of exploration, reconstruction, and continuous unfolding of the plot.
Senko Maynard (in Principles of japanese discourse: a handbook, 1998) highlights two critical moments in this type of narrative structure. The first is in regard to the moment Ten unfolds, considering this moment introduces a plot twist not directly linked to what was presented in Ki. The narrative thus takes the shape of a jigsaw puzzle for the reader to put together. However, the apparent loss of thought structure is already to be expected by the reader of this type of construction, this being it part of the reading agreement. The second crucial moment will be the final conclusion (Ketsu), because it is the instant in which the central theme is finally addressed.
Comprehending any text involves more than knowing the discourse structure, but knowing the “ki-shoo-ten-ketsu” structure may aid the reader who may be frustrated in the process of reching the final ketsu. (MAYNARD, Principles of japanese discourse: a handbook, 1998, p. 37)
Different from the Western deductive model, this logic that is essential to kishotenketsu allows for diverse reading routes. The plural points of view presented in the story are bound to attract the reader’s investigative gaze, they motivate him to have an attitude of participatory and exploratory reading – or, in the case of Anime, Japanese TV Dramas, and Movies, an attitude of participatory and exploratory viewing.
In this structure, the story starts by presenting the characters, what kind of relationship they have between them, where and when the story takes places. The story “wakes up” with this exposition. (Ki)
Next, the story “receives” (Sho) a given situation, an event tied to the narrative that will be amplified (Ten) and will “roll over itself” in multiple Sho-Ten, until it gets to a point the story will reach a “conclusion” (Ketsu), however without necessarily presenting the resolution to every conflict displayed.
With these tools, it should be easier for the Digimon community to try understand the structure of the six Digimon Adventure tri movies, what is their purpose, where the story is heading to, and therefore put everything presented in the show into perspective.
A lot of screentime has been invested in presenting as many different perspectives as possible to a common issue: "How can the children move on to adulthood without completely throwing away the heart of a (chosen) child?”. Each child finds himself dealing with this problem differently. Many twists constantly cross their paths, which make their ideal future all the more difficult to achieve. Instead of simply getting right to the core of the main topic, the movies have been slowly (yet surely) walking toward to the epilogue of Digimon Adventure 02 - a future where humans and digimon live together and Taichi is the diplomat who mediates both worlds. Everything is carefully constructed to make that ending less obscure and more defined. (Although I dare saying tri has been anything but vague about its intentions).
Rudy Barret presents in their blog an alternative (perhaps much simplier) way to understand this structure, by giving a concrete example of four-line poetry:
The Kishoutenketsu style is distinctly Japanese (…), this style has almost no Western equivalent. Kishoutenketsu was derived from traditional Chinese four-line poetry. The “Ki” refers to the introduction or kiku (起句), the next section is development or shouku (承句) , the third is the twist or tenku (転句), and we end with the kekku (結句) or conclusion. The poet Sanyo Rai gave an elegant example of how this structure functions in a poem:
Ki (起): “The characters are daughters of Itoya in Osaka.”
Shou (承): “The eldest daughter is sixteen and the younger one is fourteen.”
Ten (転): “Historically in Japan, warriors have killed their enemy with bows and arrows.”
Ketsu (結): “However, the daughters of Itoya kill only with their eyes”
In the Ki section the main players are established, in the Shou section the information from the Ki section is is elaborated upon and more information is provided. The Ten section brings out an entirely new piece of information that contextualizes the conclusion. Finally, in the Ketsu section the connection between the Ten and the Ki is drawn. This is used to great comedic effect in yonkoma, Japanese four-panel comics, as the additional context can often lead to humorous exaggerations.
The reason this style draws such ire from the Western writing community is because the concluding Ketsu section tends to introduce a new element. In Western rhetoric the conclusion is a place to tie old knowledge together, wrap a little bow around it, and call it quits. It is inadvisable to add a new piece of information in the conclusion of a typical Western piece of writing. This style, however, because it is based on poetry introduces a final, dramatic element in the last section. Because of the fact that the Ki, Ten, and Ketsu sections all introduce new elements, this writing style can be particularly confusing to a Western audience. Western, especially academic, writing is often used to tackle one major topic in a piece of prose and really can’t process scaling to three topics—especially if they are given equal weight.
Source: “The Mindset Of Japanese Arguments” by Rudy Barrett
Can Western audiences understand a Kishōtenketsu story?
Western narratology is familiar with many types of structure: Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, Vladimir Propp’s Morphology of the Folk Tale. There’s the Hollywood Formula. The Three Act Structure. The Seven Point Plot Structure…
Most these models studied in academy also have all one thing in common: conflict, resolution and subsequent transformation is at the centre of each of them. However, Kishotenketsu is one of those models that seem to exist to laugh in the face of that paradigm; it is a structure without conflict built within its logic.
It isn’t so much that there is absolutely no conflicts in stories that follow Kishotenketsu. Rather, it’s simply that conflict isn’t a fundamental part of its form nor is it essential for it to work. Conflict isn’t its goal, let alone its means to achieve the main theme addressed in “Ketsu”. This is contrary to most structures, where conflict is usually an absolute vital turning point, so a given goal is achieved.
When talking about the Kishotenketsu model, Kate Krake claims that “western audiences are accustomed to a central conflict that is defeated. It’s central writing advice; I read it, I follow it, I advise it. For this reason, stories written with this four act, no conflict structure, may risk not engaging with western audiences. They may risk being dubbed a poor story, risk being criticised as not engaging, lacking development, or some other negative criticism.”
However, they also argue that the “judgement that all plots need conflict to engage is a judgement based on inexperience. We’re indoctrinated by this Western way of thinking. It’s insular, it creates the idea that there’s only one way to write a story. That’s how Western stories are written. It’s not how all stories are written.” (Source: Kishotenketsu: The Four Act Narrative (or Plot Without Conflict)
This mentality isn’t embed within just storytelling. It is also embed within the structure of Japanese thinking, their style of writing and their very way of organizing speech.
“These contrasting styles provide a real challenge for some Japanese students in the West. Writing-intensive classes will punish students for straying from the typical cultural model of argumentation. Many Asian rhetorical traditions rely on tactfully talking around the topic without explicitly saying the main idea, and some other models follow an “inductive” pattern which starts with support and ends with a main idea. More often than not in a Western classroom these kinds of writing get points taken off for redundancy or improper organization. It’s a complicated issue because there aren’t necessarily errors with the writing—it’s just presented in an unfamiliar way.” (“The Mindset Of Japanese Arguments” by Rudy Barrett)
Final thoughts
I’m sharing the content of this post in a slim hope that some awareness is spread in regard to what I have perceived to be some misunderstadings about how Digimon Adventure tri. has been designed to be perceived, namely in regard to the (in my opinion understandable) claims that the story seems to stray with no apparent purpose or concrete goal, and my only hope is that more people come to realize things have been done this way as part of a structure that in no way is devoided of logic, albeit different.
This article by no means aims to clarify every issue people have claimed to have with the movies; although it should explain to some extent why some important plot-points keep being avoided in detriment to peripheral occurrences that apparently have no ties to the nuclear story. This is done as a way to tease the engagement of the fandom in solving, if not the mysteries of the plot, the central theme of the movies - which is nothing less than “How to become a functional adult while still remaining a child at heart?”. An existential question that poses as priority and that I believe will be the main theme of the Ketsu - the conclusion - Chapter 6: “Our Future”.
Digimon Adventure tri Chapter 6: “Our Future” is the final movie that will premiere on May 5, 2018. The “Ketsu” will fall on the Children’s Day in Japan. It won’t be just the bridge to the epilogue of Digimon Adventure 02. It will be a celebration to the Chosen Children all over the world, the fandom who didn’t let Digimon go after all this time and kept carrying it in their hearts even into their busy adult lives.
Thank you very much for reading and let’s keep having fun with our theories and analysis as usual~!
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