Outgrowing Grendizer

Nostalgia That Took Me To Japan

June 22, 2025
by Mish'al K. Samman

I grew up with Grendizer, Not just me ... a whole generation in Saudi did. That theme song? It wasn’t just a tune. It was a battle cry. A comfort blanket. A promise that someone, somewhere, was piloting something bigger than himself to protect the weak. It was the kind of show that made you believe in justice, sacrifice, and giant robots punching things really, really hard.

So years later, I went back. I wanted to revisit that feeling.

And that’s when it happened.
The moment nostalgia… cracked.

The animation was… well, it was the 70s. I get it. For its time, it was revolutionary. But now? It’s clunky. Static. Frames hang too long. Action cuts too quickly. I found myself watching with affection, but also with a quiet, sinking realization:
This isn’t good. Not anymore.

But what really did it ... what broke the illusion ... was the dubbing.

You see, I learned Japanese because of Grendizer. That’s not an exaggeration. It sparked a whole journey ... one that took me across the ocean, deep into the language, the culture, the nuance of how stories are told. And now? Now I hear the seams. I hear the word-for-word translations. The stiff mannerisms. The awkward attempts to map one language’s soul onto another.

It’s like watching English dubs where no one pauses in the right place ... where no one sounds quite human. That’s what Grendizer became to me: something I loved so much… I outgrew it without meaning to.

But maybe nostalgia was never about the show itself.

Maybe it’s the memory of the history it gave me. The afternoons after lunch, waiting in front of the TV with a plate of food, hoping today’s monster of the week would be better than the last. The thrill of that theme song kicking in. The way the world just… disappeared.

Maybe it’s the quiet miracle of my younger self, staring so hard at the screen, that the scribbles beneath the alien would eventually become the language I learned. Not to show off. Just to understand.

That’s not a rewatch. That’s a homecoming. Even if the house is falling apart.

And that’s why it cut even deeper when they rebooted it last year. The new Grendizer wasn’t just different ... it was hollow. Loud. Flashy. But empty. It felt more like a parody than an evolution. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone talk about it since. Which somehow makes me even sadder.

And yet ... I still buy the merch. Hundreds of riyals spent on keychains, figurines, collector’s editions, shirts I barely wear. It’s not even about the show anymore. It’s about what the show meant. The feelings before I knew better. Before I knew what was missing.

That’s the thing about nostalgia.
It doesn’t care if something holds up.
It just wants to hold on.

Even when it hurts a little. Even when it makes you wince. Even when you know ... deep down ... that you’ve changed more than the thing ever did.

And maybe that’s okay. Maybe Grendizer wasn’t meant to last forever. But it got me to Japan. It got me to language. It got me to here.

So yeah, I’ll still collect the figures. Even if I can’t quite rewatch the show.

About the Author
Mish’al Samman is a writer, performer, and lifelong fanboy who began his career covering comics, film, and fandom culture for Fanboy Planet in the early 2000s. With a voice rooted in sincerity, humor, and cultural observation, his work blends personal storytelling with pop-culture insight. Whether he’s reflecting on the soul of Star Wars or exploring identity through genre, Mish’al brings a grounded, human perspective to every galaxy he writes about.