From mockery and snobbery to mainstream appeal – the University of Auckland Anime and Manga Club has seen it all.

As one of Japan’s biggest exports, anime has taken over almost every corner of planet Earth. If you have ever watched an episode of Beyblade or Yu-Gi-Oh after school, you have consumed it. Are there scientists on Antarctica’s Scott Base currently playing Pokémon Go? Yes. 

What about closer to home? Auckland, specifically? 

If I do a quick Google image search for “University of Auckland Anime and Manga Club”, the first picture will be an extremely cringe-inducing poster stapled to a hallway in 2014. It still makes the rounds on the internet every month, gathering thousands of likes. The algorithm will never let anime fans forget that somewhere in New Zealand, a group of weebs gather for their weekly weeb session. Seriously, I have had DMs from people in Norway about this – I was the one that made the club logo, after all. 

Comments vary. “Are they trying to decrease the club membership?” to “I didn’t know UoA even had one of these” to “Might join for sh*ts and giggles”. All were fair and representative of the views on a fringe hobby in the mid-2010s. 

When the UoAAMC was first formed in 2013 by co-presidents Azul and Dana, they occupied a tiny table at the UoA Club Expo during Orientation Week. When I walked past them with a few of my high school friends, one of them said “OMG Melissa, you should join!” in a joking, please-don’t-destroy-your-social-reputation kind of way. She meant well, truly. For anyone growing up in the 2000s in regional Aotearoa, anime was a shadow hobby, reserved typically for the quiet, socially awkward kids with few friends except on Tumblr, a kind of social suicide. As an extrovert who happened to watch clinically insane amounts of anime, I immediately joined, almost out of spite for her comment. I accidentally ticked a box volunteering to be an executive member, sent in my application paragraph…. then suddenly, I was dedicating almost 20 hours a week to help run events with a group of equally dedicated people. 

That poster (one of a dozen or so designs) became our claim to fame, brainchild of exec Chuan, who rightly believed that all publicity is good publicity and that we might as well capitalise on the stereotypes of anime to capture attention. Once they met us, people would realise we were legitimate. 

It worked, big time. 

Membership ballooned to over 1,000, word spread about our twice-weekly events, our Club Expo table became a whole gazebo. The University of Auckland specially created the People’s Choice Club Award category for the UoAAMC in 2015 due to the number of overwhelmingly detailed, heartfelt submissions. When the club won Cultural Club of the Year in 2016, we knew we were onto something much bigger than anticipated. 

To my high school friend who was worried for my social life: funnily enough, when you spend long periods of time with like-minded people who share your hobby without judgement, social relationships tend to be formed. Members gained lifelong friendships, romantic relationships (formed and dissolved), insights into other walks of life, and their first attempts at project management. I started dating the club treasurer, Thomas, in 2014 and married him in 2024! Indubitably, UoAAMC is the most important social club I have ever joined – nowhere else could I have found such an amazingly creative, hospitable, passionate and caring group of people (who also know how to have a laugh at themselves). Thank god my friend gave me the push I needed to join. 

As our beloved club turns 12 years old and heads into its teenage years, I found myself back at the University of Auckland in 2025 to pursue a master’s degree. The first thing I did was hop onto the UoAAMC Linktree and dust off my original membership card. I needed to see where things had gone since I graduated in 2018. 

Cue Club Day 2025: Did I feel like a fossil at the ripe old age of 30, trying to fit in with Gen Z? My back hurts typing this sentence. The biggest difference I noticed was how proudly the anime and manga fans carry themselves now, as opposed to when I was a child. By carry, I mean literally carry – anime shirts, bag charms, phone cases and accessories were EVERYWHERE, in public! The social energy was infectious, a far cry from the days of hiding on Tumblr. 

I am not entirely sure who to thank most for this cultural shift – our streaming service overlords that make anime accessible, the fashion trend of bag charms, the volunteers at anime conventions, or the creators in Japan who have churned out modern day hits such as Attack on Titan, Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen to introduce new fans to this medium. The social de-stigmatisation of Japanese pop culture and the move away from stereotypes are what current UoAAMC President, Mike, also loves to see. 

Members express that the club is a haven of self-expression and their home away from home – many would go so far as to say it is the best part of their university experience. The founders didn’t have such ambitions – or so Azul would say. What started out as a place to talk about anime turned into a legacy of fostering a welcoming community and making lifelong connections, something that will stand the test of time. A prevailing theme throughout anime is the courage to go against the grain of society and attain success by means of sacrifice, self-improvement and friendship – a club built on mutual love for this medium was always bound for success. The passion of anime fans is remarkable, and I am honored to have met them all. Case and point: Azul still flies back from Europe annually to volunteer at the Overload convention.

Today, the UoAAMC can be found continuing its mission of serving as a place where one can truly express themselves and their interests. Talented members also animate, draw, sing and edit original works in its J-music subgroup. We can be found online, twice a week on campus, and at Overload – New Zealand’s largest annual anime and manga convention happening April 26-27 (Anzac weekend) in Auckland. To join UoAAMC, you don’t have to be a student at all! Come to Overload to meet us in person or join via online submission – if you are curious about anime/manga/J-music in general, I am sure our many members would be more than happy to give their honest recommendations.

I only have one piece of advice for my fellow nerds with obscure hobbies, looking for friends or love: Genuinely dedicate yourself to something like a club, anywhere. It is an attractive trait to be passionate, even more attractive to volunteer your time for something you love, and through teamwork you will gain insight into yourself and others. It worked for us. 

PS. The DM from Norway came from a place of envy – they desperately wanted to be part of an anime club but didn’t have one locally. The poster totally worked, thanks Chuan. 

Alex Casey reviews The Rule of Jenny Pen, a new local nightmare set within the four walls of a rest home.

Mortality and danger seep in from the very first scene of The Rule of Jenny Pen. As Judge Stefan Mortensen ONZM (Geoffrey Rush) squashes fly innards into his judge’s bench in the middle of a sentencing, we get the first of many warnings to anyone or anything who dares enter the film’s orbit: this is not going to be a painless ride, and not everyone is going to make it out alive. 

Nobody learns that better than Mortensen who, after suffering a debilitating stroke, finds himself out of the judge’s robes and into a shared room in an aged care facility. Directed by James Ashcroft and based on a short story by Owen Marshall, what transpires next is a cruel, claustrophobic and deeply disturbing ride, as Mortensen soon becomes the target of resident tormentor Dave Crealy (John Lithgow) and his creepy puppet called Jenny Pen. 

Don’t let the marketing fool you – this is no run-of-the-mill Annabelle or Chucky joint about a dolly with a mean streak, but a relentless rumination on mortality, legacy and power. As Crealy creeps about the hallways taunting Mortensen and his roommate Tony Garfield (George Henare) in increasingly sadistic ways, the film asks a question far scarier than anything Slappy the Living Dummy could conjure: what if you encounter pure evil, but nobody believes you? 

Once a pillar of society who professed “where there are no lions, hyenas rule”, Rush’s Mortensen is declawed and left at the mercy of Lithgow’s hyena, Crealy. Rush is exceptional as the cantankerous old curmudgeon thrown into a desperate situation, increasingly immobile but for the panic in his eyes. Joined by Garfield, a beloved former All Black, the pair represent some of the most respected positions held in New Zealand society, which makes it all the scarier when their autonomy is ripped away. 

While Jenny Pen might be the cover girl, Lithgow is the monstrous heart of the film. He barely even speaks at first, icy blue eyes staring from afar with the disquieting presence of Michael Myers standing among in the linens in Halloween, or Lecter lingering in his cell. That stillness soon gives way to a terrifying physicality, whether it is him unleashing physical violence come nightfall or doing a chillingly spry jig in the middle of the day in the residents lounge. 

(It’s also worth shouting out Lithgow’s New Zealand accent, one frequently so on-point that he even accurately pronounces the way an old racist white guy would mispronounce “meow-ri”.)

Also helping the creeping sense of dread are Ashcroft’s excruciating close-ups, slow zooms and disorienting camera angles. In Jenny Pen, action can play out in the reflection of a warped security mirror, or across a bustling room and through a window. Every choice makes audience feel more isolated and confused, sometimes obscuring a shot to just the tops of heads or the bottoms of legs, as if we will never get the full picture of what’s really happening. 

It’s effective, if a little frustrating at times, and speaks to a few other murky aspects of the film. There are suggestions of some kind of supernatural presence, but these are never fully explored. As things unravel, we get hints about Crealy’s villain origin story, but not quite the full story. An early Final Destination-style sequence within the rest home sets the spectacle and shock bar admirably high, and I’m not sure the film ever quite reaches it again. 

But perhaps a bit of ambiguity is the point here – Ashcroft told me himself he loves to dwell in the grey areas. The story gets a little muddled and repetitive towards the end, but so does Mortensen’s mental state, as conversations with specialists start to skip like CDs and his sense of time and place gets more and more distorted. The yawning long hallways, straight from The Shining, and flashing red smoke alarm lights certainly don’t make things anymore comfortable for anyone. 

Just like Ashcroft’s first film Coming Home in the Dark, Jenny Pen goes all in on its bold and brutal vision without any of the wink-wink splatter-comedy schtick that New Zealand horror films often lean on for safety. Also like Coming Home, it cackles in the face of categorisation – this isn’t really a horror film at all, but thriller doesn’t feel right either. When menace looms in everything from an unattended bath, to a gate left ajar, it feels like a whole new kind of nightmare altogether. 

The Rule of Jenny Pen is in cinemas nationwide from today.