There’s a great premise at the heart of SEVEN ON SEVEN, billed as a “hilarious new manga romance.” Teen-aged Nana Suzuki splits into seven versions of herself thanks to a mystical crystal. The six copies each represent a heightened aspect of Nana’s personality – her intelligence, her sexuality, her insecurity, and so on.
So why is SEVEN OF SEVEN Vol. 1 such a disappointment? There are a number of reasons, but the most important is that it doesn’t do anything interesting with its own concept. Adolescent identity can be mined for all kinds of stories – comedy, drama, romance. Throw in a mystical complication like this that brings the protagonist face to face with what can be troubling and troublesome parts of their own persona, and you’d think the manga would write itself.
But in SEVEN OF SEVEN, author Yasuhiro Imagawa has taken the narrowest possible view of the possibilities this situation presents. Nana doesn’t really learn about herself by interacting with the crowd of clones; she just has six largely unpleasant rivals for the boy she likes. (As a small bright point, the boy in question actually seems like a catch. Yuichi is friendly, smart, and fond of Nana.)
So the stories all work around the Nanas trying desperately to stay in Yuichi’s orbit and catch or keep his attention. More often than not, this means the Nanas execute a series of disturbingly malicious schemes to pass tests, put rivals out of the picture, and win Yuichi’s favor. (It never occurs to Nana to do well in school because she has any ambitions of her own, despite the fact that there are seven allegedly distinct versions of her.)
The manga’s tone is wildly uneven. It’s not the kind of controlled tonal chaos of SGT. FROG; it’s just a hodgepodge. Innocent mischief makes hairpin turns into destructive pranks. A youthful crush can turn into violent and creepy obsession. Supporting characters fluctuate to serve whatever the situation requires. (Her parents all but disappear and seem largely un-phased by the fact that they’re suddenly parents of septuplets.)
The style of the art by Azusa Kunihiro is just as muddled as the story’s tone. Kunihiro can’t seem to decide what Nana should look like, and that’s not merely because she comes in seven flavors. Her age fluctuates from page to page, looking like an innocent pre-teen on one page and a sultry young adult on another. (I’m not talking about the difference between Nana prime and “Sexy Nana,” either.) In what’s either a stylistic choice or just general laziness at the drawing board, background figures turn into disturbing, pointy-limbed silhouettes. Seriously, the art is all over the place, from HELLO KITTY to COWBOY BEBOP. There’s also a healthy dose of cheesecake, whether it’s seven nude Nanas at the hot springs or “Sexy Nana” in dominatrix drag.
Who is this title supposed to appeal to? Anyone who buys it for the fan service is likely to be bored out of their minds by Nana’s dithering. Anyone who buys it because they can relate to Nana’s innocence is sure to be repulsed by the fan service. Fans of fantasy, smart humor, and romance will be out of luck, too.
I was bound to run across a manga I didn’t like eventually, but this one left a truly awful taste in my mouth. Flaws in execution aside, the worst part is the title’s suggestion that, no matter how different the girls may be, they all want the same (single) thing: for a boy to like them.
