Part 38: Recycling Genius: The Business of Remaking Anime, From FMA to Hunter x Hunter

In the relentless churn of the modern anime industry, where hundreds of titles vie for attention each season, a peculiar and increasingly prevalent phenomenon has taken root: the remake. This isn't merely the episodic continuation of a popular series, nor is it the occasional standalone film based on a classic. Instead, we are witnessing a systematic re-adaptation of established manga, often entire series, that have already received an anime treatment in the past. It's a business logic that seems counter-intuitive at first glance: why make the same anime twice? Yet, for those peering behind the glossy promotional art and into the cold mechanics of the serialization machine, the answer is disarmingly simple: it's a calculated, commercially sound hedge against the immense risks of true originality.

This isn't to say that every remake is a soulless cash grab, far from it. Many are lauded by fans and critics alike, celebrated for their fidelity to source material, updated animation, or the opportunity to finally adapt arcs previously left untouched. But beneath the artistic justifications lies an undeniable economic imperative. The anime industry, much like its manga progenitor, is driven by the twin engines of audience engagement and financial viability. And in an era where production costs are soaring, global competition is fierce, and the attention economy is fractured, a known quantity – a proven hit with an existing fanbase – offers a significantly more attractive prospect than rolling the dice on an unproven IP. This installment of “The Serialization Machine” delves into this remake economy, examining the forces that propel studios to mine their own back catalogue, what is gained, and crucially, what might be lost when the pursuit of assured profit overshadows the thrill of pioneering new narratives.

The Lure of the Known: Why Remake Anything?

The decision to greenlight an anime production is a high-stakes gamble. Tens, sometimes hundreds, of millions of yen are poured into a project, often with uncertain returns. Original anime series carry the highest risk, demanding significant investment in concept development, character design, and world-building without the safety net of an existing fanbase. Even adapting an un-animated manga, while slightly less risky, still requires building an audience from scratch, hoping its serialized success translates to the small screen. This is where the remake economy offers a compelling alternative: a de-risked investment with an often built-in audience.

The commercial drivers are multifaceted. Firstly, brand recognition is paramount. A title like Fullmetal Alchemist (鋼の錬金術師, Hagane no Renkinjutsushi) or Hunter x Hunter (ハンター×ハンター) doesn't need an introduction to millions of anime fans worldwide. This pre-existing cultural footprint significantly reduces marketing costs and increases the likelihood of immediate viewership. Secondly, there’s the matter of audience nostalgia and unresolved desires. Many older anime adaptations were produced when their source manga was still ongoing, leading to anime-original endings (AOEs) that diverged wildly from the author’s ultimate vision. This left a lingering dissatisfaction among purist fans, creating a ready-made demand for a “faithful” adaptation once the manga was complete. Thirdly, a new adaptation can reignite interest in the original manga, boosting its sales and extending its commercial lifespan, a symbiotic relationship that benefits both publishers and animation studios.

The production committees, the constellations of investors that fund most anime, are inherently risk-averse. They seek predictable returns. A remake of a beloved property, especially one with a globally recognized brand and a manga that has already sold millions of copies, offers a far more stable projection of profitability than an entirely new venture. In an increasingly competitive global streaming market, securing established IP also guarantees content that platforms know will attract subscribers, offering lucrative licensing deals. This commercial logic, while perhaps pragmatic, undeniably shifts resources and attention away from experimental or untested works, narrowing the creative pipeline in favor of proven commodities.

The Faithful Remake Model: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Hunter x Hunter (2011)

Two of the most prominent and commercially successful examples of the faithful remake model are Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (2009) and Hunter x Hunter (2011). Both series exemplify the industry's willingness to revisit and re-adapt works, primarily driven by the desire to align more closely with their completed or significantly advanced manga source material.

The original Fullmetal Alchemist anime, produced by Studio Bones and airing from 2003 to 2004, was a critical and commercial darling. However, because Hiromu Arakawa's manga was still far from completion, the anime eventually diverged, crafting its own distinct narrative path and ending. While beloved by many, it left a segment of the fanbase yearning for a direct, unadulterated adaptation of Arakawa's intricate plot and character arcs. When the manga neared its conclusion in 2009, Bones, alongside Square Enix and other stakeholders, saw an opportunity. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (鋼の錬金術師 FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST) was born, explicitly marketed as an adaptation that would follow the manga's story faithfully from beginning to end. This was a direct appeal to the purist fanbase, a promise of creative rectitude.

The commercial success of Brotherhood was immense. It not only leveraged the original anime's established popularity but also delivered on the promise of manga accuracy, earning widespread critical acclaim and solidifying the franchise's place as a global phenomenon. Creatively, it demonstrated that strict adherence to the source material could be a profound strength, satisfying long-held fan desires and allowing Arakawa's full vision to be realized on screen. While some argued it lacked the original's initial pacing or some of its anime-original character development, the consensus was that Brotherhood was the definitive adaptation, a testament to the power of a complete, uncompromised narrative.

Similarly, Hunter x Hunter received its first anime adaptation in 1999 from Nippon Animation, running until 2001 and covering approximately the first 12 manga volumes. Like Fullmetal Alchemist, this version was curtailed due to the manga's ongoing status. A decade later, Madhouse picked up the torch, launching Hunter x Hunter (2011) (ハンター×ハンター) with the explicit intention of adapting Yoshihiro Togashi's manga from the very beginning, with updated animation, art style, and pacing. The 2011 series became a phenomenon, attracting both new viewers and older fans eager to see later, critically acclaimed arcs like Chimera Ant animated for the first time.

Madhouse’s approach was a masterclass in modernization and fidelity. The 2011 anime started fresh, taking advantage of a decade of animation advancements while remaining remarkably true to Togashi’s intricate storytelling and character dynamics. Its run lasted an impressive 148 episodes, a significant commitment that allowed it to cover a vast swath of the manga, far surpassing its predecessor. The commercial rationale was clear: re-introduce a beloved but incomplete anime property to a new generation, capitalize on its enduring popularity, and finally deliver the complete experience fans had waited years for. Both Brotherhood and Hunter x Hunter (2011) illustrate a potent combination of commercial savvy and creative commitment, proving that remakes, when executed with care and purpose, can be highly rewarding ventures for all involved.

Beyond Fidelity: Reboots, Reimaginations, and Modernization

While the faithful remake is a powerful model, the remake economy isn't solely confined to absolute manga fidelity. The landscape also includes reboots and reimaginations that seek to modernize, streamline, or even completely re-contextualize classic properties for a contemporary audience. This sub-trend further underscores the industry's reliance on existing IP to mitigate risk and capture attention in a crowded market.

Consider Fruits Basket (フルーツバスケット, Furūtsu Basuketto), which received a new adaptation from TMS Entertainment in 2019, nearly two decades after Studio Deen’s 2001 anime. The original 2001 series, much like Fullmetal Alchemist, deviated from Natsuki Takaya's manga and ended prematurely. The 2019 Fruits Basket was explicitly announced as a complete adaptation of the entire manga, signaling a commitment to deliver on the long-held desires of its devoted fanbase. Its success mirrored that of Brotherhood and Hunter x Hunter, proving that the appetite for complete, faithful adaptations of beloved series remains strong, particularly for shojo titles often overlooked for multi-season commitments.

However, not all attempts at modernization land with universal acclaim. Sailor Moon Crystal (美少女戦士セーラームーンCrystal), which began in 2014, aimed to be a more direct adaptation of Naoko Takeuchi's manga than the iconic 1992 Toei Animation series. While it certainly leveraged the immense global recognition of Sailor Moon, its reception was mixed. Some criticized its animation style and pacing, highlighting that faithfulness alone doesn't guarantee a superior product. It revealed that sometimes, the creative liberties of an original adaptation can be just as beloved as the source material, and changing them carries its own risks.

Further along the spectrum are properties that are less about direct fidelity and more about bringing a classic concept into a modern aesthetic or narrative framework. Masaaki Yuasa's Devilman Crybaby (デビルマンクライベビー, 2018) for Netflix is a prime example. While based on Go Nagai's classic Devilman manga, it reimagines the story with a contemporary setting and a hyper-stylized, visceral animation approach. Similarly, the 2019 adaptation of Osamu Tezuka's Dororo (どろろ) by Tezuka Productions, Twin Engine, and Wit Studio, offered a grittier, visually stunning take on the 1960s manga, appealing to a new generation of viewers while respecting the original's thematic core. These projects demonstrate that 'remake' can encompass a broad range of creative approaches, from strict fidelity to bold reinterpretation, but the underlying business logic remains constant: leverage existing IP to secure an audience and mitigate investment risk.

Gains and Losses: The Back Catalogue vs. New Risks

The strategic mining of the industry’s own back catalogue offers clear and quantifiable gains. For studios and production committees, it translates into more reliable revenue streams. Established intellectual property ensures higher chances of securing robust licensing deals with streaming platforms, better merchandise sales, and a strong international market presence. The global appetite for anime means that a recognized brand can instantly find an audience in multiple territories, vastly increasing its commercial reach compared to an unknown original. This predictability is a powerful incentive, especially in a volatile market where hits are rare and expensive to produce. Furthermore, remakes serve a vital cultural function: they introduce classic works to new generations, preserving their legacy and ensuring their continued relevance in an ever-evolving media landscape. They also fulfill a genuine fan demand, often rectifying past perceived shortcomings and providing a sense of completion for long-time devotees.

However, these gains come with significant, albeit often less visible, losses. The most critical is the potential for creative stagnation and a stifling of innovation. When resources, talent, and capital are consistently diverted towards re-adapting existing properties, less is available for truly original IPs or adaptations of obscure, challenging, or riskier manga. The industry becomes less daring, favoring the comfortable predictability of the familiar over the potential brilliance of the new. This creates an opportunity cost: what daring new stories, what groundbreaking artistic visions, what truly fresh perspectives are not being realized because the machine is focused on cycling through its greatest hits?

Moreover, constant reliance on remakes can lead to a homogenization of the market. While a good remake can be exceptional, a proliferation of them can make the seasonal anime lineup feel increasingly derivative, a parade of known quantities that offer comfort but rarely surprise. Directors and writers, bound to strict source material adaptation, might find less room for their own creative interpretations or narrative experiments. The “serialization machine” thrives on predictable outcomes, and the remake economy, in many ways, is its ultimate expression of this drive, exchanging the unpredictable thrill of discovery for the calculated assurance of market share.

Conclusion: The Perpetual Cycle of Commercial Art

The remake economy is not an aberration but an inherent outcome of the commercial pressures that define the contemporary anime and manga industries. It is a rational, albeit sometimes artistically conservative, response to the immense costs, fierce competition, and high risks involved in producing animated content. The examples of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Hunter x Hunter (2011), and myriad others illustrate that when done well, remakes can be immensely successful, delivering on long-held fan desires and introducing beloved stories to new audiences.

Yet, this trend also serves as a poignant reminder of the perpetual tension between commerce and art. The serialization machine, in its broader sense, encompasses not just the weekly manga deadlines and reader surveys, but the entire ecosystem of anime production where commercial viability increasingly dictates creative output. As the well of classic manga continues to be tapped, the industry faces a critical juncture. Will it find a sustainable balance between celebrating its rich heritage and cultivating the next generation of groundbreaking stories? Or will the siren song of de-risked nostalgia prove too powerful, leading to an endless loop of re-adaptation, potentially at the expense of cultivating the truly original, truly daring works that once defined its golden age? The answer, as always, lies in the delicate, often ruthless, dance between artistic ambition and the cold hard logic of the market.