An Overdue Critique and Review of Death Note & What is tell about Japans Lost Generation

ost people I know have seen Death Note, but surprisingly, not many are aware of its true essence. Despite the original manga running for only two and a half years in Weekly Shonen Jump, the series has made a significant impact since its debut in 2003. With over 30 million copies sold across just three volumes, Death Note has spawned a highly popular anime adaptation, four live-action films (two of which feature entirely original content), a J-drama (Japanese television drama), multiple video games, stage plays, musicals, and even an American remake by Netflix.

Critically, Death Note remains one of the most highly acclaimed and frequently discussed manga to this day, although its notoriety has waned in Japan, where it didn’t even rank in the top 100 when TVSI surveyed readers in late 2020. It’s hard not to describe Death Note as monolithic, considering its distinct identity compared to other popular series like Dragon Ball and One Piece, which typically exist within Jump’s (is Weekly Shōnen Jump is a weekly shōnen manga anthology published in Japan by Shueisha under the Jump line of magazines. The manga series within the magazine consist of many action scenes and a fair amount of comedy) collective branded canon. The mere mention of a deadly notebook instantly brings the franchise to mind, with countless parodies, homages, and even real-life crimes inspired by the series. However, amidst this widespread public discussion, I feel that something has been lost. Not only have the debates over the story’s specifics become muddled, but even the core ideas and original meaning of the manga itself have been overshadowed by adaptations and misinterpretations.

In this analysis, it’s essential to revisit the original work and ask a fundamental question: What exactly is Death Note truly about? The creative minds behind Death Note, writer Tsugumi Oba and artist Takeshi Obata, each have intriguing personal histories. While it has never been confirmed, a popular rumor suggests that Tsugumi Oba is merely a pseudonym for gag mangaka Hiroshi Gammo. Gammo’s work was a prototypical Jump gag series of its time, filled with absurdism and wordplay, and primarily targeting Jump’s young audience. Despite being a favorite among Jump’s offices, Gammo seemingly vanished from the public eye after two unsuccessful runs in 1998 and 2000. Obata’s story, on the other hand, differs significantly. After winning the prestigious Tezuka Prize in 1985 and completing his first formal serialization, Cyborg Grandpa G, at just 20 years old, Obata garnered a reputation as a rising talent. In 1998, he collaborated with Yumi Hotta to create Hikaru no Go, a successful series that even sparked a resurgence in the game of Go. The series concluded just a few months before Death Note’s debut. These backstories provide context for Death Note as a whole. Rather than a bold, fresh vision by a young author, Death Note is a collaboration between a 40-year-old “washout” under a false identity and a superstar artist riding his fame wave. With prior connections within Jump, it becomes apparent that Death Note was essentially primed in a pipeline from the start, with the one-shot publication meant to gauge audience reception and establish Oba’s false identity. Many have noted that Death Note doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of Jump’s publications. At a time when Jump primarily focused on bright, optimistic narratives, Death Note stood out with its harsh cynicism and grounded scope. The story relies less on dramatic climaxes and more on meticulous buildup and detailed characterization. With only about a dozen characters receiving substantial focus, the manga avoids dedicating significant flashbacks to character backstories and motivations, choosing instead to center on a singular, serialized narrative.

This distinction is further emphasized by the protagonist, Light Yagami. Unlike the scrappy outcasts and delinquents that defined other protagonists in Jump’s publication, Light is a top-level student destined for an elite university, popular among his peers and women, and the son of a deputy director of the Japanese NPA (National Police Agency). The fact that he is also a mass murderer only adds to the stark contrast with other Jump characters. While Light Yagami may not be someone to associate with, he represents an archetype of an ideal Japanese youth. This characterization feeds into every aspect of his personality and actions throughout the manga. What stands out is the stark contrast between Death Note’s original one-shot pilot and the finalized version. Although the pilot shares the core concept of the Death Note and Shinigami, it is radically different, making it closer to a typical Jump manga. The pilot’s protagonist, Taro Kagame, is a 13-year-old boy who, after accidentally killing his bullies with the Death Note, is horrified by the consequences. Unlike Light, Taro refuses to use the Death Note after understanding its true purpose, cooperates with the police, and tries to prevent his best friend from using the notebook. Furthermore, the pilot introduces a “Death Eraser,” which can undo the deaths caused by the Death Note. The story concludes with the Death Note being destroyed and Taro and Ryuk reflecting on its urban legend status. Interestingly, the pilot seems to focus on the core idea of a Shinigami’s notebook that kills whoever’s name is written inside, rather than the actual premise of the finalized manga. In a Jump defined by its three central manga, Death Note emerged as the edgy counterculture piece, an outsider breaking the rules and warranting attention as an alternative art. However, it still fits within Jump’s framework.

The creator, Tsugumi Oba, has stated in multiple interviews that Death Note was intended primarily as a work of entertainment, rather than a moral exploration. This is evident in the story’s framing and structure. Despite the premise revolving around Light and his accomplices committing mass murder, the manga downplays the severity of their actions. Bodies are rarely shown, societal ramifications of Light’s crimes are minimal, and the narrative focuses on the intellectual battle between Light and L. Tonally, the manga remains surprisingly light-hearted given the subject matter, with comic relief and gags involving Ryuk, Misa, and Matsuda frequently present. The series even incorporates scenes such as Light and L bonding over an intense tennis match or Matsuda’s comedic struggles to avoid being killed by the Yotsuba group. Misa, a mass murderer herself, is never treated as more than Light’s perky female sidekick, and her flippancy is never stressed. Even Light’s trademark grin, often used for tension, is sometimes employed as a gag. Demystifying Death Note as a mature philosophy piece exposes its actual core appeal: the intellectual back-and-forth between Light and L, with Ryuk as a passive observer providing exposition.

Part one of the story is a hyper-stylized reinvention of the classic Holmes vs. Moriarty scenario, with L as the perfect opposite to Light. Soichiro and Misa serve as essential supporting characters, with Soichiro’s internal conflict and Misa’s loyalty providing added depth. The rules of the Death Note are another essential element, outlining what is and isn’t possible for the characters. Death Note’s appeal lies in the intricate mind games, even exploiting in-story mechanics as tactics. In the latter half of the story, Light loses his memory, and the narrative switches to a more traditional Jump style, where Light and L team up. This part is generally considered weaker, as the mind battles take a back seat and the story drags through repetitive scenes involving generic businessmen discussing the same topics. The conflict in the story creates a fascinating new dimension to the core dynamic of Light and L, as they exchange theories and deduce the identity of the new Kira. This allows the reader to better understand their similarities and differences. However, the latter half of the story, or part 2, is polarizing and has faced criticism, with some arguing that it may not have been necessary.

The key complaint is that the story continues after L’s death, leading to the introduction of Near, who greatly resembles L in demeanor. This has led to debates about whether the narrative should have ended with Light and L’s final fight. However, L’s death allows the narrative to explore new themes and shift the conflict from a personal level to something more universal in scope. Another complaint is the lack of a character for the reader to root for, causing the story to become draining. However, the Japanese task force is given more focus in part 2, providing emotional grounding that was absent in part 1. This change in focus allows for a compelling exploration of the characters’ reactions to their deteriorating situation. While part 1 focused on the deadlock between Light and L, part 2 takes a broader approach, exploring the global impact of Kira and the ideals of fixing society. The narrative is positioned around Light’s eventual thematic and literal defeat, which arguably makes for a more interesting story. However, the execution falters due to fundamental problems in the story’s design, resulting in a polarizing reception.

The main issue with part 2 is its structure, as the rapid pace at which conflicts are introduced and resolved can be disorienting. Following L’s death, the story quickly shifts to Mello kidnapping Light’s sister, only to end abruptly and pivot towards Near’s plotting and the introduction of new accomplices. Since Near can’t directly confront Light until the climax, the manga meanders through subplots, leading to an overcomplicated narrative. Lengthy monologues often interrupt chapters, making it difficult to remember who knows what, and false information further complicates matters. Although individual subplots are interesting and thematically relevant, they don’t feel cohesive. Near suffers from this narrative crunch, as his passive role and lack of breathing room reduce his impact on the story. His relationship with Light lacks the compelling personal edge that L had. Conversely, Light’s role is diminished due to the shift in focus, as he rarely engages in conflict until the end. This reduction in his role, combined with the overcomplicated narrative, makes part 2 less engaging overall.

In part 2, Light becomes somewhat of a cipher, with his relationships and motivations remaining underdeveloped. The narrative’s expansion to encompass broader themes results in an inability to properly handle these new elements, leaving ideas like Kira’s global influence unexplored. Mikami’s character lacks proper buildup or payoff, and the pace drags, losing the thrilling mind games from part 1. Despite these flaws, the climax is highly impactful, with Near’s calculated approach adding weight to the finale. The series ends not with a grand battle, but with a question answered, providing a satisfying thematic conclusion. The misconception that Death Note solely focuses on justice is challenged, as Light’s actions, though criminal, raise complex moral questions. In the manga, Light’s actions as Kira are consistently portrayed as negative, with no clear positive results arising from his murders. Crime rates surge after Kira’s temporary absence, and Light’s character is depicted as petty, unhinged, and remorseless. The notion that Light is anything but a villain is implausible, as the manga never portrays him as a fallen hero. Near’s assertion that Light cannot dictate right or wrong highlights the central theme that justice is subjective and not an objective concept. Forcing one’s perception of justice onto the world is wrong due to this inherent contradiction.

The anime adaptation, directed by Tetsuro Araki, influences viewers’ interpretations of Light’s character through its use of Judeo-Christian imagery and atmospheric elements. These directorial choices contribute to misunderstandings about the series, as they frame Light’s character and story in a more epic and apocalyptic light, contrasting with the manga’s plain presentation. The anime adaptation presents Light’s character differently from the manga, with a more epic and apocalyptic tone. While the manga portrays Light as a twisted and unsympathetic individual, the anime frames him as a dark messiah who bends the world to his will. Some changes in the adaptation might stem from the need to fit the medium, but others seem intentionally designed to alter Light’s portrayal. The anime’s ending diverges significantly from the manga. In the manga, Light’s death is depicted as pathetic and desperate, while the anime presents his final moments as a more tragic and somber affair. The series closes on a note that emphasizes Light’s tragic rise and fall, a stark contrast to the manga’s portrayal. This reinterpretation and attempt to justify misconceptions about the story continue in other adaptations as well, further deviating from the original text. The live-action films make Light’s motives and Misa’s backstory more prominent, creating more sympathetic characters and a more humanizing death scene for Light than in either the manga or the anime.

The J-drama and Netflix adaptations of Death Note further alter Light’s character, deviating from the manga’s portrayal. The J-drama presents Light as an ordinary university student who cares about his family and Misa, even showing him saving people as Kira. The Netflix adaptation transforms Light into a bullied outcast who is horrified at the idea of killing innocents and tries to make the world better. In this version, Misa’s character inherits Light’s original negative traits, resulting in a problematic representation. These changes are not merely about adapting the story to different mediums, but rather an attempt to correct the original narrative to fit the popular perception of what Death Note should be. The adaptations often focus on biblical imagery, right and wrong, and Light’s relationships, without fully understanding the original manga’s societal critique.

The manga is deeply rooted in the disillusionment faced by the “lost generation” in Japan during the 1990s. After a decade of rapid financial growth, the country experienced a severe recession that left a generation of young people struggling to find jobs and facing a bleak future. This societal collapse and generational disillusionment heavily influenced the tone and themes of the original Death Note, which many adaptations fail to capture in their reimagining of the story. The significance of Death Note’s story is rooted in a single tragic event in March 1995, when the Tokyo subway system was targeted in a coordinated attack using sarin gas. This incident, which killed 13 people and injured over a thousand, was carried out by a controversial religious group called Aum Shinrikyo. The group, composed mainly of educated young people, was led by Shoko Asahara, who believed he was the reincarnation of both Buddha and Christ, aiming to bring salvation to the world through violent means.

Aum Shinrikyo’s crimes struck a chord with Japanese society, as its members were not social outcasts or mysterious villains, but rather the very individuals who were expected to carry on the legacy of the previous generation. The disillusionment experienced by this lost generation, who turned to a collective of monsters for solace and purpose, is reflected in Light’s character in Death Note. Light is not meant to represent Lucifer, but rather the bitterness and disillusionment that drives someone with a promising future to become a mass murderer. His desire to become a “god” is not driven by arrogance or lust for power, but by the belief that someone must take on this role to make the world right. Light envisions a world where people accept Kira as the new normality, highlighting the dark depths to which a lost generation can be driven when their dreams and expectations are shattered.

Death Note tells the story of Light, who seeks to become a divine figure who enforces justice by punishing those who commit evil acts. He targets not just any criminals, but those who intentionally harm others and deteriorate society. Many characters, like Misa, Matsuda, Takeda, and Mikami, who sympathize with Light’s actions, also belong to the same disillusioned generation as him. They yearn for a world where a savior can genuinely make things better. However, Light’s view of right and wrong is flawed, and his actions are ultimately those of a murderer, not a savior. Light’s downfall is triggered by Mikami, who inadvertently reveals Light’s identity in his eagerness to help Kira’s cause. Light’s own delusion of being a divine figure is shattered when he is exposed as the mass murderer he truly is. In the end, it is Matsuda, a character who has been consistently portrayed as comic relief, who delivers the final blow to Light. As a young rookie detective, Matsuda understands Kira’s motivations but also recognizes him as a mass murderer. He is torn between wanting to believe in Light’s vision and knowing that it is wrong. When Matsuda ultimately rejects Light and shoots him, the message of Death Note becomes clear: Light is not a god guiding humanity on the right path, but an insane serial killer imposing his beliefs on others. Just as Aum Shinrikyo was not a divine society that would survive Armageddon but a dangerous terrorist cult, Light’s actions are not divinely inspired but are rooted in his own twisted sense of justice. Through Matsuda’s rejection of Light, the author effectively conveys the idea that Light’s vision is not one to be admired or emulated, but rather, a cautionary tale about the consequences of misguided beliefs and actions. Matsuda doesn’t have a tragic backstory or complex motivations like some characters in “Death Note.” He simply desires a better world. In Light’s world, no one truly understood the concept of Kira, a figure that some feared, some exploited, and some idealized. Kira represents various ideas like death, god, and salvation, but these ideas stem from a naive understanding. “Death Note” is not a story of two ideals clashing but rather demonstrates how an idealist’s view of justice can be flawed. Light dies, not out of hubris, but because he cannot comprehend that anyone would truly see him as wrong. The series ultimately reveals that there is no afterlife, presenting a world of cosmic nihilism where one’s soul ceases to exist upon death.

In the manga’s epilogue, one year after Light’s death, the world has reverted to its previous state. Matsuda, still emotionally scarred, discusses his theories about Near and his desire to believe in Light despite his crimes. Aide reassures Matsuda that they were right because they are alive, emphasizing that life still exists in a world without justice.

“Death Note,” though imperfect, powerfully dismantles the ideals it once presented, proving the futility in trying to understand the conflict as simply wanting something inside oneself to be true. The desire for a savior or someone to right the world’s wrongs can be disturbing and delusional, but it is also human. Life continues, and so does the pursuit of a better world, even if it may never be achieved.

‍