Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon Super Live: What Is It Even?
What is Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon: Super Live? It’s hard to describe in simple words. It’s a performance; it’s a dance; it’s an opera crossed with a pantomime. It’s billed as a musical and as an “experience.” It is performed in Japanese with English subtitles, yet there are so few words that it belongs to no language.
In Japan, these kind of live Sailor Moon extravaganzas are common. This particular one is coming to America for the first time, premiering in NYC and in DC. My friend Mary, who got the tickets, tells me there’s apparently one where the Sailor Scouts fight Dracula.
If you don’t know what Sailor Moon is, I guess stop reading? Too much has happened; I don’t have time to explain what a Sailor Scout is or who Malachite is or why Queen Beryl is stealing energy from the people of Tokyo. I have enough to do here.
For Sailor Moon aficionados, Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon: Super Live broadly follows the beats of the first season. Queen Beryl dispenses her minions; Sailor Moon and the Sailor Scouts fight them; Beryl brainwashes Tuxedo Mask; the Sailor Scouts teleport to rescue him. We don’t get a lot of backstory, by which I mean at no point is anyone’s identity explained. If you bought the ticket, you should know this shit.
The show is a huge visual sensory overload. It communicates with flashing lights and eardrum-blasting music. Is it art? I asked myself. Do you call it art when you replicate, beat for beat, the storyline of a television show? If the actresses had any interest in putting depth into their characters, there’s no room for them to do it. The production leaps from number to number with lightning speed.
We spend no time on exposition, but a lot of time with the Sailor Scouts going to Harajuku, eating light-up candy and trying on outfits. My first thought is, “why are we wasting time on this when we could be watching them fight?” But then I realize, why did I come if not to watch the Scouts try on different outfits in their signature colors?
Every time Tuxedo Mask enters, the crowd breaks into riotous applause. For some reason they really like Tuxedo Mask. Before the performance, Mary told me that Tuxedo Mask was played by a woman, who herself played Sailor Pluto in other productions. I can’t tell whether that’s accurate. Every cast member is wearing a wig and a fully covering costume — there’s no way to tell if anyone is a man, a woman, or non-binary. In PSSM:SL, there is no gender. We don’t need it.
The music, by the way, is not good. Apart from the Sailor Moon theme which opens the show, it’s all original numbers. They aren’t catchy, and the lyrics are irrelevant to the action and the characters. But it sure is loud!
As the performance continues, I start asking myself: are the performers actually any good? They dance, though the moves are easy and straightforward. They also sing along with a pre-recorded soundtrack. I thought they were lip syncing until Sailor Mercury missed her verse. Their voices are not good, but they fill the silence. Then, randomly, everyone will have to do magic tricks, or tumble, or do a color guard performance.
But I realize they are good at the most important thing: hitting their marks. The light displays are complicated and dazzling. They make the Sailor Scouts’ attacks feel electric. When Malachite is transformed into a glistening stone which rises to the rafters, it’s beautiful and touching. Everyone must be in place, ready for their lights, ready for their pre-recorded cue.
The show has two parts: a narrative show, and a concert. The concert consists of the same songs we just heard, just with more choreography.
PSSM:SL should be cynical. Despite its narrative simplicity and bright colors, the target audience is not children; it’s Millennials, and Sailor Moon is reaching through our nostalgia to get our wallets. I have to admit, it works for me. I cheer when we see Sailor Moon’s teacher, Miss Haruna in her iconic magenta suit. And when the Sailor Scouts break into their signature poses, a deep portion of my heart heals.
Despite the tight choreography, the performers have a lot of heart. At the end of the show, the Sailor Scouts and Tuxedo Mask suddenly rush into the audience, grabbing people by the hands, lovingly waving to fans they can’t reach. Sailor Moon makes sure to go to the very back row and grasp hands with people. They do extra laps; they make sure they get everyone.
Then, the performers vanish. Mary whispers to me: “Do these things have an encore?” Then, everyone reemerges. They sing that original Sailor Moon theme. Everyone joins in, even Queen Beryl, who looks fabulous, by the way. The fans who learned Japanese for this sing along. My brain overflows with simple, ten-year-old joy.
After the show, I tried to buy a t-shirt. They were sold out. You apparently have to get them in Japan.
