The Comics Journal

Osamu Tezuka’s manga do not look like manga. He presents narratives as a series of dynamic fragments that mirror his characters’ restless momentum. Almost every collective action is purposefully arranged via montage juxtaposition, piecing together slivers of motion rather than using their various parts to form a singular cogent image. That’s not unusual for the medium, but what’s so remarkable about it in the case of Dororo is how consistently Tezuka’s breakdowns feel like freeze frames of cell animation, more than likely a product of the influence Disney cartoons had on his work. Panels break down into component images, like a storyboard or a flipbook expressively but fastidiously rearranged to fit all on one page. As a result, Tezuka’s obsessively detailed draftsmanship overwhelms the reader with its unswerving dedication to abstracted motion.