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Having seen Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works, Presage Flower serves as a functional sequel to Zero and an engaging tonal and narrative contrast from Unlimited Blade Works. However, while knowledge of its predecessor and alternate storyline are essential to gain anything from it, Presage Flower is so fundamentally different on a thematic and storytelling level that its worth recommending even to those who were not fond of the two aforementioned titles.

While Fate/Zero tackled themes of utilitarianism, nihilism and heroism and Unlimited Blade Works addressed (in a somewhat flawed manner) martyrdom and pathological altruism, Heaven’s Feel explores the impacts of childhood trauma and domestic ... abuse. This is explored through the relationships between Shinji, Sakura and Shirou, with all of the rest of the cast (with some exceptions) merely serving to catalyse their development. In comparison to Fate/Zero and Unlimited Blade Works, which gave nearly all of their characters enough screen time to standout, very few characters outside of the central trio are given much focus. Ultimately, this works in favour of Presage Flower through allowing for a strongly focussed story about Shirou and Sakura without their relationship being diluted.

The narrative plays out less like a progression towards a well defined goal and more like the gradual unveiling of a curtain. By the end of Presage Flower there are more questions than answers, however it is certainly possible to make a guess as to what drives Sakura and Shinji. Moments like Sakura’s shock as she looks at Shirou’s developing command seal and Shinji’s hesitant respect for Shirou implies that they both admire him in entirely different ways and for different reasons. In contrast to Unlimited Blade Work’s heavy handedly literal depiction of Shirou fighting his potential future of destructive altruism, this movie portrays most of the intrafamilial conflict via subtext conveyed through the thoughtful presentation of perspectives. Given the strength of Presage Flower’s thematic core, the selective disregard of its supporting cast was a worthy sacrifice.

That being said, Zouken and his servant Assassin serve a similar function to Caster in Unlimited Blade Works; through gaining such a strong initial lead, he places Shirou, Rin and Saber in a precarious position. Zouken is not quite as removed from the central cast as Caster was, as his role as mentor to Sakura and Shinji grounds him in the movie’s core conflict. Nevertheless, at this stage both he and his servant lack the charisma and clear goals of the likes of Gilgamesh or even Zero’s Caster. This may gradually be rectified in later installments, but at this stage Zouken merely acts as a powerful cinematic presence rather than an emotional one.

That’s not to say that the entire supporting cast are irrelevant to the plot. Saber, feeling more like her Zero self this time, has some of her best scenes to date here. From her compassion, which shines through in her scenes with Sakura, to her despair as she enters a state of self-reflection, the first chapter of Heaven’s Feel seems to be promising a satisfying internal conflict for Saber that could make up for Ufotable’s apparent unwillingness to adapt her route (the Fate route). Kirei also makes a strong showing, quickly revealing his dubious nature and history and becoming personally entangled in the rapidly collapsing Holy Grail war far more quickly than in any other route. Much like Shinji, Kirei’s cruelty is conveyed powerfully through subtext, though this acts more to tie him back to his Zero self than to illuminate anything new.

Of the other cast members, they barely require mentioning. Archer is involved in only one fight (in which he gets minimal focus) while neither Caster nor Lancer are given much to do. Despite being the (assumed) most powerful character in the series, Gilgamesh might as well have not appeared at all. Rider is shrouded in mystery, however the film indicates that the rest of the trilogy will give her more focus. The same applies for Illya, whose role is suggested to be more substantial in the two proceeding entries than in this one.

One the visual front, Presage Flower still contains many of Ufotable’s weaknesses, such as occasionally stiff character movements and suspiciously still characters in the background. However, they improve upon their already outstanding qualities to such an overwhelming degree that these weaknesses are entirely forgivable. The effects work is lush and surprisingly subtle, with small details like a snowflake gradually melting over Shirou’s hand not only serving as stunning displays of digital prowess, but a potent reflection of internal conflict. While the improvement in Ufotable’s digital effects was noticable in this year’s Kagetsuki: Touken Ranbu, it simply cannot compare to this theatrical outing. The lighting and atmosphere are equally deserving of praise; in some ways it is consistent with Unlimited Blade Works, using a high contrast colour palette with fine line work to produce background art of a calibre that only the works of Makoto Shinkai can beat.

However, the lighting is noticeably more monochromatic in this installment. While Unlimited Blade Works had a consistent realistic colour scheme with tints of darkness implying the presence of grimmer elements, Presage Flower’s approach presents stronger atmospheric juxtaposition. The scenes prior to Shirou joining the war are often bathed in light as Sakura harkens back to the brief period in her life where she was genuinely happy. The transition in hues and brightness mirrors the narrative progress brilliantly, with thick shadows cloaking the city was the Holy Grail war begins. From the beginning of the second act onwards, the movie’s tone is more reminiscent of Fate/Zero and perhaps even The Garden of Sinners than it ever is of Unlimited Blade Works. Danger oozes behind each corner as the stakes are higher than ever before. The red lights illuminating the night are more sanguineous than welcoming. The artificial lighting reflects off Berserker’s skin far more harshly than it has in instalments prior.
The character animation keeps pace, albeit with the occasional hiccup. Shinji’s slimy gestures contrast with Sakura’s timid reservedness around Shirou to imply a complicated relationship between the two of them. Two particularly unnerving scenes, one between Shirou and Shinji and one between Shirou and Kirei, convey layers of disgust and resentment with such clarity, through clever framing and detailed movements, that they could have been entirely silent and little meaning would have been lost. Other animation techniques, such as using CG as a base to allow for unnaturally smooth character animation, are implemented well and compliment Presage Flower’s unnerving vibe.

That being said, the main attraction of the movie is the action scenes, and in that regard the movie delivers spectacularly. While the initial fight scenes are short and one sided their energy and detail more than makes up for it and, with one exception, they all serve to drive forward the plot. Rider and Assassin deserve special mention for the compelling way in which they manage to fight on a even level with far stronger and more skilled opponents. One specific fight scene towards the middle of the movie has the potential to be an instant classic, not merely as a spectacle in and of itself, but as a showcase for how to properly implement CG into 2D animation. This is all propelled by a noticeable increase in gore and violence to a level where the TV broadcasting of this movie would require substantial censorship. When a character is cut or has their bones broken, the impact is palpable and harrowing, internal organs littering the streets. While Unlimited Blade Works used action to entertain, Presage Flower is harsher and more personal in its handling of action, impressing the seriousness of the situation. From bombastic clashes between heroes of legend along the bustling Fuyuki highway to personal conversations within the Emiya household, Presage Flower is a visual feast.

Yuki Kajiura, returning to the series after Hideyuki Fukusawa’s admirable efforts on Unlimited Blade Works, is a perfect fit for the film’s more haunting tone. The score is tied more closely to Fate/Zero this time, with the flashbacks to Kiritsugu employing tracks like “Tragedy and Fate”, which appropriately reflects Presage Flower’s status as a more tonally consistent continuation of the saga. While the battle music isn’t quite as elegant as Fukusawa’s work its far weightier nature, in combination with the anime’s borderline deafening sound effects, keeps pace with the very violent action scenes. The choirs of Kalafina that play as the war comes to life and the guitar riffs that piece the air as Berserker chews the scenery illustrate that this Holy Grail was is not going to be offering nearly as much breathing room as the others.

The real winner here has to be Aimer’s “Hana no Uta” and its use as a motif throughout the movie as a theme for Sakura. It’s application, particularly in scenes where Sakura and Shinji are present, adds another layer of despair to the excellent animation and voice acting. It’s mixture of contrasting melancholy defeatism and moments of optimism characterise Sakura more effectively than even her talented voice actress. Much like the character animation it runs the risk of being forgotten alongside the energetic action, but it is more deserving of praise.

Overall, Fate/Stay Night Heaven’s Feel: Presage Flower sets a new high bar for the series. With its haunting beautiful storytelling on both a narrative and visual front, combining graphic fights scenes with powerful interpersonal drama, it lays down a strong foundation for a story that, should it keep pace, has a chance of surpassing Fate/Zero. See it on the big screen if possible, but only after you have seen its preceding installments.

One Punch Man serves as suitable entertainment on the shallowest of levels, though its repetitive comedy and presentation prevent it from standing out on many other levels.

One Punch Man starts out on a moderate note, with the joke of Saitama’s overpowered physicality growing old before the end of the first episode. From the start, this is a problem, as even less acclaimed comedic series like Baka and Test and The Devil is a Part Timer have fast and furious first episodes, where comedies usually try to reel in their audience by establishing character dynamics, introducing multiple avenues of comedy (ranging from misunderstandings to ill pre-conceived ... notions) and more than a single named character. Though the first episode contains a fight with a crab, a fight with a giant, an extended dream sequence and a showcase of sidekick Genos, it feels very scant on promising material or even immediate comedic or visceral sustenance (outside of the sakuga, but I’ll get to that later). When Genos is introduced things become a bit more interesting, as his back-and-forth with Saitama resulting from their juxtaposition in goals, fighting styles and ambitions makes them able to play off each other very effectively. Another couple of episodes are carried by this, and for a while their sort-of buddy cop routine works somewhat effectively, repetitive scenarios aside (Genos fights his heart out, Saitama wins with no difficulty at all).

However, problems become more prevalent after the introduction of Speed of Sound Sonic. The hero association is introduced, and there is little excuse for Saitama to not know of this for several reasons. Firstly, as the series itself points out, the hero association is subsidised by the government, and Saitama must have had to have paid tax at some point in the past. Secondly, he must have seen other heroes near gigantic monsters at least a few times. Finally, if the association is so well structured, with satellites and monitoring systems all throughout the world, why hasn’t Saitama been noticed? (Disclaimer: I have read the manga up until where it is now, and his scapegoat is an insufficient reason for the public’s inability to report him).

When any level of scrutiny is applied to the mechanics of the world, it falls apart, and the excuse of it being a parody just isn’t enough for this negligible world building. With the plot essentially consisting of a sequence of events as Saitama and Genos rise through the ranks, One Punch Man choses to take the unambitious route of having the series serve as a comedy and action series almost exclusively.

However, the comedy of the series, which even more so than the action was its main draw, was another area where the series ultimately falls into the category of hit-and-miss. When it parodies the super sentai and American comic book hero genres, it worker relatively fine on a comedic level, though no thoughtful subversions or critiques are made with this self-awareness of its labels. However, when it isn’t pertaining to the very watchable and even charming relationship between Saitama and Genos, it resorts to the most painfully unimaginative anime humour, and these extended cringe-sequences can take up to 5 minutes at a time, which even a good joke couldn’t sustain. As was mentioned above, the series uses Saitama’s lack of intelligence and quick thinking as a source of humour against Genos, but when he’s on his own the scenes feel like the uninspired moron-shaming the something like Family Guy would resort to. The depiction of homosexuals as sexually aggressive sociopaths isn’t even parodied at all, with the writers seemingly using a clearly sexually abusive man as a source of humour, made worse when you consider we are supposed to be rooting for him. Even the loathsome groin jabs make an appearance, and in the earlier parts of the series at that, though they are played more effectively than one might presume.

Another of the plentiful problems with the later episodes is that the supporting cast, mainly the other S class heroes, are introduced and then immediately set to fight in dangerous situations, with episode 11 being taken up mostly with these new, though not particularly interesting characters fighting unnamed aliens whose weakness is so painfully obvious that the entire episode is skippable. To add to that, with the exception of Sonic, every villain in One Punch Man is interchangeable; sure, they have slightly different goals, but they’re essentially all cocky giants who command henchmen who seem to dominate until they are easily dispatched by Saitama. A couple characters like Tornado of Terror and Sweet Mask seem interesting, but they do nothing more than gloat and occasionally attack enemies of little consequences while Saitama does all the work.

Thematically, One Punch Man is a very dry series. It sometimes likes to throw around themes like “People will judge you based on your history and appearance instead of your actions.” However, these are simply repeated from time to time with little sense of thematic progression. This theme is introduced, and immediately becomes a dead end, and as a result, One Punch Man only really has something to say if the viewer is willing to turn their brain off.

One Punch Man’s visual presentation is another mixed bag. The action sequences are fluid and the lack of weight to them makes One Punch Man feel like a video game at times, though this is appropriate for Saitama given that his victories are often with the ease of button pressing. Visually, any scene involving the main character works, as his character model is sufficiently loose for it to change depending on the tone of the scene without feeling distracting. On the other hand, like with Attack on Titan the inconsistent production quality is covered up with tight shots and speed lines, however unlike there it doesn’t function as effectively because, as a generally light hearted series, wide and open shots would feel more natural. The few instances where there are crowd shots feature many off model people for up to 10 seconds, and even vehicles seem deformed as a result of the action scenes clearly being given priority over the in-between ones. The character designs are fairly on-the-nose typical of super-heroes, with the serious, detailed and (widely considered) attractive Genos acting as the straight man, while Saitama serves as the spanner in the works with his intentionally unspectacular but memorable aesthetic. When Genos, or many of the other characters move, they are often pudgy at distance shots, and the choreography of many fights leaves viewers with little sense of distance or speed. The fights against the Deep Sea King and aliens in the second half were particularly disappointing for the most part, usually consisting of a series of stylish stills and speed lines which, while reminiscent of charming older action shounen, detract from what are supposed to be serious confrontations.

The colour palette for the series is below average by modern standards in terms of breadth, with simple base colours dominating the character designs and backgrounds. The series misses a big opportunity here, because though this works well for Saitama, giving Tornado of Terror or Silver Fang a more sophisticated depth of lighting would assert why they are so respected and bring greater contrast to them and Saitama. Outside of the fight scenes, the series often has difficultly with the mobility of larger, more detailed monsters, as the story boards that treat One Punch Man like a theatrical outing couldn’t be brought to life without the time and energy put into something akin to a Makoto Shinkai movie. The series shot itself in the foot to an extent with the bland angles and framing, because had the series shown monsters rising from behind, rather than at the front where everything has to be drawn, it would have both made them more imposing and increased the fluidity of these creatures. Instead, the monsters’ movements are stiff, unnatural and greatly contrast that of the rest of the characters. To add to that, the content of the fights often feels like there were forced attempt at lengthening them (Saitama is running away from Genos… why?). A potentially even bigger problem would have to be the visual pacing; with One Punch Man being a Madhouse production in name only, dozens upon dozens of freelancing key animators were hired to direct individual scenes as short as 10 seconds. The jarring shift in art style, matched with the directionless story often makes episodes of One Punch Man feel either dry or bloated, messy and confusing and, at worst, like nothing is happening.

The standouts scenes that have made One Punch Man famous in the visual department are its occasional use of Sakuga animation, which is to say, when then animation quality considerably increases for a brief period under the watch of specific key animators, such as Tetsuya Takeuchi or Nozomu Abe. The first and final episodes of One Punch Man in particular has a few of these, with many of the staff from Space Dandy creating sequences specific to them for maximum effect. However, this ultimately serves as a double-edge sword, as though they may be exhilarating for about 30 seconds, these sakuga moments are intercut between with so little grace and consideration for pacing that the scenes feel random and uncoordinated, with the final battle between Saitama and Boros essentially being a long sakuga compilation, rather than a well-structured fight. To add to that, the effects work surrounding them isn’t up to par, with the dust clouds lacking the fluidity or realistic motion of a product from P.A. Works or Ufotable. One Punch Man’s animation during action scenes make for some entertaining gifs, but not satisfying battles.

The music of One Punch Man starts out on a strong note, with the second half of the first episode containing a powerful, catching and uplifting song during Saitama’s dream sequence that brings to life the unadulterated feeling of being a hero. However, this track is repeated several times over the later episodes, during training scenes, fights and even dialogue, outstaying its welcome before the mid-point of this 12 episode series has been reached, and being used to death till the end (even in the final battle). The OP is so on the nose that it feels obnoxious, representing the repetitive nature of jokes pertaining to Saitama and barely showcasing any of the more interesting looking characters. The lyrics are also suitably bland; like the series it accompanies, the opening song uses the label “parody” to excuse a lack of creativity and articulation. The ED feels like it belongs in a different series, with the various visual cues and vocals having nothing to do with One Punch Man, and “Sleep soundly…” doesn’t seem to pertain to any of the characters. Sound effects are dull and overused from the very beginning, with each “Clang” sounding exactly the same and some of the noises sounding outright off.

As a comedy, the voice acting in One Punch Man is serviceable, with Makoto Furukawa’s Saitama voice doing such a good job at reflecting his years of fighting pitiful opponents that it just makes the jokes feel more repetitive. Genos is well represented by relative new comer Kaito Ishikawa, who brings his focused and disciplined characteristics to the forefront, though the script and direction prevent him from displaying much range. Much better is Yuki Kaiji’s wonderfully insane and energetic performance as reoccurring antagonist Sonic, who steals whatever scene he appears in with his memorable mannerisms and fighting style. Mamoru Miyano as Sweet Mask is also good, though his scenes are too few and far between. The gem in the cast, however, would have to be the one-two punch of Saori Hayami’s wonderfully cold and manipulative Blizzard of Hell Fubuki (in spite of her appearance being little more than a cameo) and Aoi Yuuki’s simultaneously adorable and magnetically unpleasant Tornado of Terror, who possess the most personality of the cast.

All in all, One Punch Man is a candy coloured super hero punch up that sacrifices ambition and development in favour of using it for a quick joke stretched out into a 12 episode long series, which based on its current strong reception and awareness among the public, is likely extend even further. The humour quickly becomes uninspired and overdone, the story lacks bite and the presentation is hit-and-miss. It excuses itself as a parody or satire, though ultimately doesn’t function as either of those a lot of the time, resulting in a lukewarm experience.

Maria the Virgin Witch is a competently handled, historically astute and thematically rich anime that stands among the best titles to have aired in 2015.

The story of Maria, which starts when she begins her valiant crusade to end all war between France and England, is a relatively fast paced story that isn’t bogged down by unimaginative exposition or flashbacks, instead respecting the audience’s intelligence enough to allow them to determine character motivations and attitudes through engrossing dialogue. In the earlier parts of the story, which are devoted heavily to establishing the world and characters, the story may seem slightly meandering, with conversations about intentions and ... underlying desires seemingly unrelated to the overarching story laying down the foundation for later character conflict. However, once the half-way point of the series is reached, several parties, each with their own individual aims and justifications, are locked in an intense cycle of both trying to understand each other, and bring each other down. The Catholic Church, military, townspeople, witches and Maria are all left with the decision of who to side with and for what reason. This leads to some very heart-wrenching and thought-provoking moments, while not presenting any side as inherently “correct” or “incorrect”. On top of this, it resolves most loose ends without resorting to a Deus ex Machina resulting in the absolute triumph of good over evil, and delivering one of the most emotionally satisfying and complete endings I have seen in an anime thus far. On the whole, Maria the Virgin Witch carries a fast paced story along with the gravitas and pacing needed to make it consistently engaging, particularly in the second half.

The diverse and colourful character cast of Maria the Virgin Witch, however, is what truly allows this series to sparkle. Maria herself is a head-strong, naïve young witch who seeks out peace for reasons that are revealed over the course of the story. As far as lead female characters go, she is a sympathetic character that the audience can still see the flaws in while routing for her to overcome them. Over the course of the story, she gradually comes to see the consequences of her actions through her interactions with other members of the story. Of course, for this to occur, a strong supporting cast is needed, and thankfully, in this anime, they are plentiful. Ezekiel, the overseer of Maria sent by the angel Gabriel, develops organically and consistently through her time spent with Maria and across the country, as she sees the horrors of war and begins the question her own outlook on the situation. Her growth is nearly as satisfying as Maria’s, and has an equally perfect ending. Maria’s familiars, Artemis and Priapos, also have well-define characteristics, more in the case of the latter than the former, and Maria’s shy, yet good-intentioned lover Joseph is also faced with important decisions with great ramifications on the plot.

Viv, the sharp-tongued and ever entertaining and outspoken member of the Witch Society, Bernard, the sociopathic and manipulative overseer of the Church, and the Archangel Michael all influence the world of Maria the Virgin Witch, embody the spirit of their respective organisations and disagree with Maria for different reasons. The most likeable Viv serves as great foil for Maria, having a similar caring attitude, though with experience-based temperament that leads her to make more responsible decisions. The gradual unveiling of Bernard’s character is fascinating to watch, as it is revealed through his interactions with the other members of the cast rather than dry, unimaginative internal monologues. Michael is nearly completely steadfast in his beliefs, though he serves as a great final boss figure. Not even taking into account Galfa, another well-developed and sympathetic character, this anime is full of well-utilised, well-written characters who reflects many ideals and historical concepts in a way that is rarely seen in modern Japanese anime.

The tone of Maria the Virgin Witch is very deliberate, alternating between culturally appropriate raunchy humour, most of which is dealt with in a way that juxtaposes Maria with Artemis or Viv, and a heavy war drama. Though, on paper, these two elements seem like they would conflict horrifically, causing both aspects to fail, the anime manages to have sufficient build-up to war scenes, and cool-down from them, that such scenes never feel out of place. The risqué dialogue is most prominent in the former part of the series, establishing Maria’s purity in contrast to the rest of her country (particularly mercenaries like Galfa), though it’s far away when it isn’t needed, ensuring that the series is serious when needed, but without casting a blanket of morbidity over the entire 12 episode run. However, it is plausible that some may be offended by the presence of ecchi elements in this series, regardless of how well they are implemented. Some of the subject matters dealt with in Maria the Virgin Witch are quite loaded, such as rape, murder and the actions of the church. However, they are all addressed with maturity and in a way that feels organic to the story. Rape isn’t made into a joke for the amusement of the audience, murder and grievous injuries are treated both as natural outcomes and tragedies in their own right and the actions of the church are addressed in such as to question the interpretation of the bible, rather than the actual teachings of it. Maria the Virgin Witch is a story with minimal pretension that doesn’t make the mistake of biting off more than it can chew.

Another area worthy of praise for this series is its art direction and colour choices. From Production I.G., this anime unfortunately does not boast very high production quality by their standards, paling in comparison to the likes of Guilty Crown and Psycho Pass. However, the fairly simple and colourful lighting of this series does serve as an excellent contrast to the series’ dark tone, particularly in the final section of the story, and each character has a unique and memorable design that reflects their characteristics very well, from Edwina’s safe, down-played dress to Maria’s skimpier in design, but purer in colour scheme outfit. The armour, fighting styles and weapons employed by the soldiers are extremely historically accurate, serving to further juxtapose their mortality against the likes of the absolute angels of the more abstract, removed-from-history witches. Additionally, the few action scenes in this series carry a sense of weigh and power to them, something that many higher-budget anime series cannot successfully pull off. From the genuine armour and weapon designs, and believable character movements and strong sound design, when a sword strikes a shield or body the impact is palatable, and this is consistent throughout the whole anime with little dip in quality.

On the topic of sound, this doesn’t quite match up to the other aspects of Maria the Virgin Witch. The energetic and optimistic opening is catchy and upbeat, showcasing most of the major characters and themes via visual metaphors, though it doesn’t quite manage to capture the entire essence of the series. The ending song provides valuable insight into the past of Maria, though it also isn’t the most memorable song, only warranting two or three viewings. The soundtrack on the whole is appropriate, utilising soft instruments in character changing moments instead of splurging them on epic battles and overall adding a sense of richness to the scenes with instruments that fit within the context. However, few of the tracks manage to stand well on their own, requiring the context of the scenes to really stand out. The voice acting is solid in both languages, as Maria the Virgin Witch was one of several anime in the 2015 winter season to get a simulcast dub. Alexis Tipton takes a couple of episodes to gel with the character of Maria, though by episode 3 I found it difficult to imagine anyone else voicing her. Joseph in English does sound a bit off at times, though stands out when he needs to. The star of the dub, however, is the widely acclaimed Colleen Clinkenbeard in her unrecognisable performance as Viv. Not only does she give Viv a suitably jolly accent that meshes well with her simple, yet well-defined nature, but she also gives her a genuine presence that is extremely difficult to pull off in a character with comparatively little screen time. The Japanese is good too, with most voice actors fitting their characters at an earlier stage than the English counterpart. The Japanese track also boasts some memorable performances, with Artemis sounding more elusive and potent as the sexually active succubus and Priapus lacking that nasally quality that made his English voice actor seem off at times. With that being said, though, being set in the France-England 100 year war and featuring voice actors who mature into their characters as the characters themselves mature, I’d have to give a slight edge to the dub.

On the whole, Maria the Virgin Witch is a well-written, well-directed and well-acted adaptation that succeeds as a coming of age story, sporting a wide range of well-developed characters and thought-provoking themes that didn’t get the attention it deserved in the 2015 winter season.

Chuunibyou is a heart-warming, deceptively tightly paced narrative that succeeds both as a comedy and a drama within a believable context.

The story of Chuunibyou is centred on Yuuta Togashi, a high school student who has started out at a new school with a fresh opportunity to make friends. In the past, he had few, due to his Chuunibyou (eighth grade syndrome) which left him absorbed in his fantasy world while others laughed at him. However, Rika, his fellow student and fellow resident of his apartment complex, is still suffering from Chuunibyou, leaving Togashi feeling threatened that his past may come crashing down on him. Initially, ... this story focusses on introducing the audience to the main cast through comedic interactions, which serves both as effective episodic light-hearted enjoyment and lays down the foundation of character motivations and relationships. However, though these episodes are relatively airy, they still have rather dark subtle undertones that occasionally, though not unmistakably, present themselves to the audience. As a result, the more dramatic, emotional second half is flowed into naturally without feeling forced or uncalled for. Over the latter 50% of the series, mysterious characters are illuminated, and character relationships are altered in a rather predictable, though organic and entirely justified, development. On the whole, Chuunibyou’s tight nature works heavily in its favour, though not entirely; some of the side characters’ motivations don’t seem entirely fleshed out, and the series does feel just slightly too short.

The characters of Chuunibyou, much more so than the story, are what it is likely to be remembered for. Yuuta Togashi is very relatable (specifically for me, embarrassingly) though doesn’t feel like a shallow place holder. He has, at the beginning, very specific and unambitious goals, so as a character on his own, he isn’t too interesting, though his interactions with Dekomori, Rika and Nibutani more than make up for this. His exasperation towards Dekomori, his growing concern for Rika and his envy and admiration for Nibutani all add character to him, though admittedly Rika’s older sister, Tooka, are the most hilarious. (On a side note, Yuuta also manages to retain likability in spite of the fact that he regularly beats up younger girls and reading women’s magazines.) Rika, the show’s poster character, is memorable, well developed and extremely engaging to watch. The anime succeeds in making her a likable character at the beginning, establishing that she has been the way she is for a very long time, but the best character work is done with her in the second half.

Dekomori also has a lot of development, acting as the archetypal good-intentioned, yet nonetheless extremely troublesome and immature, friend. Her character is secondary, though thankfully is addressed in a way that feels sufficient in the context of the story. Nibutani doesn’t have the same level of watchability as the other cast members, though she is also a well-established character who, though changing little over the context of the story, adds a lot to it through her believably wise advice and experience. She strikes a good balance between being mature and kind, while also being stern and serious when the situation requires it. However, she isn’t completely consistent. At the beginning of the story, she seems somewhat self-absorbed and doesn’t listen to the others as much as she should. Though this isn’t bad, her more selfless, kind attitude in the second half doesn’t quite seem to gel with the more juvenile attitude shown earlier. Additionally, her decision to join the club seems more like a device to get her to interact with the rest of the cast, rather than being a justifiable decision of her own. Had the story devoted just a few more minutes to her, she would have felt more complete. Another character who may have benefitted from more time is Tooka, Rika’s older sister. She serves her job well, is a great supporting character who flits naturally between being serious and funny, though her more forceful attitude isn’t quite explained, which could have been helped greatly by showing her with her mother of Rika a little more. Other than these characters, the others are fairly static, though Kumin and Makoto breathe a bit of much needed comic relief into the latter half of the show.

In terms of overall aesthetics, Chuunibyou is a high quality production, as is expected from Kyoto Animation. The characters are well-lit and shaded, regardless of the time of day, and the backgrounds are consistently detailed. Everything is lit a little more lightly than it would be in real life, giving the anime a much more youthful and optimistic look that fit well with its themes and characters. Much of this can be attributed to the highly skilled and experienced key animator Masaya Makita, a veteran of Kyoto Animation with a distinct visual style. However, the character designs are a bit lacking in originality because of this; the heavily reflect those from K-ON!, Clannad and Haruhi Suzumiya, particularly in the case of Nibutani. Thankfully, Chuunibyou is extremely light on fan service, which is greatly appreciated given the nature of this series’ tone. The character models are nearly never off, the movements and fluid and each character is given a visual identity through the way in which they move, be it Nibutani’s more upright, respectable stance of Dekomori’s more juvenile, energetic expressions. The highlight of the series would have to be the short, yet very fun and vibrant battle sequences (which, ironically, bear an uncanny resemblance to those if Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works (2014)). On the whole, Chuunibyou is great to look at, though isn’t the pinnacle of artistic integrity of originality.

In the sound department, both the opening and ending are catchy, upbeat, fitting and memorable, which seems to be a running theme throughout this anime. The opening sounds very nice, though the over-choreographed nature of it may have some viewers scratching their heads. The ending is even better, with the cast members contributing their voices to a rather nonsensically written, though still extremely fun, tune that doesn’t quite feel as in place towards the end of the series. The OST serves its purpose well chiming in to uplift the comedic scenes, though quieting down a little too much during the emotional ones.

Regarding the voice acting in the series, both the original Japanese and the Sentai FIlmworks English dub serve their purpose well, though the former does have an edge over the latter. For Yuuta Togashi, the much more experienced and iconic Jun Fukuyama brings much more energy to the role than the otherwise fine Leraldo Anzaldua. The various supporting characters, to varying degrees, manage to retain their essence and seem to understand their characters enough the match up reasonably well to their Japanese counterparts. Rika, however, has been tampered with in a very interesting manner. In the original Japanese, she sounds very down-trodden and pathetic, as is appropriate for her character. In English, however, she has a surprisingly deep voice, which effectively contrasts her age from her very childish and naïve attitude. Both artistic decisions work relatively well, though it may be difficult for one who has already been exposed to one language to view this anime in another language. Ultimately, though, the Japanese edges ahead slightly simply because, being set in high school, the Japanese mannerisms and word plays work much better in the native language. Also, the English script can be too literally translated at time, resulting in unusual sentence structure and confusing puns.
On the whole, Chuunibyou is a tight series with well-developed characters that is pleasant in sight and sound, memorable, and, in spite of not feeling like the most original story ever told, will likely work for all but the most hardened of viewers.

The first half of Fate/Zero is a tour de force of character building, technicality and the portrayal of ideologies and conflict, while also serving as a strong foundation for Ufotable’s ever expanding Type-Moon animated universe. In spite of occasionally awkward structure, unclear character motivations and questionable directorial decisions, Fate/Zero succeeds on so many levels that these flaws may almost be forgiven.

The story of Fate/Zero begins with the introduction of the seven masters, who have been selected to fight in the Holy Grail war, and their respective servants. During this time, the focus is given to their motives, beliefs and nature, allowing the characters to (with ... some exceptions) be established firmly. The first few episodes, mainly spent following the scheming and strategizing masters, are relatively slow paced, though there are few redundant or unnecessary scenes. Once the fighting does begin, however, great satisfaction is granted to the viewer as they watch familiar characters, each with their own unique set of skills, battle each other with all their might, wit and passion. However, in the first half of Fate/Zero these fights rarely reach a meaningful resolution, though they do effectively foreshadow more important future conflicts and provide a much-needed break between dense exposition and horrific imagery. As the first half continues, the battles become larger, more threatening and more frequent, as each master gradually learns more about the others. However, though the individual conflicts are engaging and memorable, how and why certain characters are in certain places at specific times doesn’t always make sense. Additionally, though the first two episodes give all the masters abundant screen time, some characters have their time cut down for the sake of others. However, neither of these flaws are too detrimental to the story, as even if the pacing and character focus is uneven, the story always knows who to follow and where to go, even if it isn’t always sure of how to get there. The first half of Zero, consisting heavily of build-up, does not provide much in the way of resolutions, but the intriguing philosophical and psychological themes and consistent, brooding tone allows this weaker half to still feel like a strong series.

The characters of Fate/Zero are perhaps its most outstanding component, with the relationships between the individually interesting masters and servants making for some truly memorable dialogue and action sequences. The masters all have strong desires for the Grail, with their motives varying from the desire to protect family, the attain glory or something even more ambitious. This serves as a brilliant method through which characterisation can be delivered, with subtle details about the masters’ mysterious pasts or hidden agendas being presented through their wishes. The masters contrast and parallel each other in a way that allows them to complement each other, rather than cause the narrative to feel bloated under too many philosophies. This is partially what makes the beginning episodes feel so meaningful and powerful, bubbling with the anticipation of eventually pitting these powerful, resolute personalities against each other. However, though the masters themselves are all unique and complex, the heroic spirits are what really solidify Fate/Zero’s character cast as one of the strongest in recent years.


Many of them are from completely different time periods and places in the world, and each of them have strong beliefs and morals that not only allows them to play off their masters, but the other servants even more so. Towards the end of the first season, a conversation between two of the most relevant servants doesn’t only serve as strong characterisation for both of them, and not only does it contrast two conflicting philosophies in a convincing and believable way, but it also serves as a highly thought provoking discussion that will likely leave many viewers questioning their views about the world and themselves. The conflict between servants, and their respective masters, drives both the story and themes of Fate/Zero forward. From themes like utilitarianism, what defines a true hero and what an individual’s purpose in life is, this anime is rich in compelling and intricate themes which it delivers in a way that feels like human conflict, in spite of the fantastical nature of the setting and characters.

In terms of visual presentation, Fate/Zero shows exactly what Ufotable are capable of, delivering a series with a variety of detailed and tonally appropriate colour choices and shading. Takeuchi Takashi’s character designs fit the story of Fate/Zero brilliantly, with each character reflecting their cultural identity and heroic status without feeling too alien or unfamiliar. Each individual character design manages to stand out, leaving an impression on the audiences so that, even if they disappear for a while, they are may be easily recalled when they return. The backgrounds are also very detailed and fitting to the story, with an abundance of lavishly coloured and designed set pieces giving the viewer and sense of scale and position. The action sequences are quite spectacular, making use the aforementioned strong character designs with effective cinematography, fluid animation and some well-written battle strategies. The weakest point of the series, visually, would have to be Ei Aoki’s occasionally stiff and lifeless style of directing. When characters are not fighting, they are often reduced to talking heads with negligible expression or attitude, which is very problematic, given the dialogue-driven nature of the series. On top of that, there are several still shots that go on for a little too long at the beginning of the series, with the slow editing adding to the slow story pacing to leave the characters to stand completely on their own. On top of that, even though the backgrounds are stunningly and appropriately coloured, they sometimes feel very monochromatic and lacking in character. These problems do lessen as the series progresses, though in the hands of a more experienced director, the artistic potential of this series would possibly have been reached (ironically, each of the aforementioned flaws have been rectified in the sequel, Fate/Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works). In spite of Aoki’s weak directing, Zero is still a visually splendid and well-designed series that stands among the best of its respective year.

In the category of sound, LiSa’s opening song, “Oath Sign”, is a fast and energising listen which, combined with the stellar production values, makes for a good opening, though tonally the song and its lyrics don’t quite match Zero’s bleak nature. Eir Aoi’s ending fares slightly better, though contains what some may consider a spoiler, and also feels like it may be more at home in a less grim series. Yuki Kajiura’s OST is a fitting and suitably epic soundtrack that further invigorates the action to make it stand out even more. Even more impressive, however, is how the elegant violins seep into meaningful interactions between characters, giving them a sense of weight in terms of both emotion and plot significance. Though most of the more impressive tracks do not play until the second half of Fate/Zero, the first half is still a strong series in terms of music. Whether you choose to view this series in sub or dub, the acting is strong and the little meaning is lost. Both the original Japanese voice actors and the English dub providers do have some flaws, though in both cases they are few. Jouji Nakata’s performance as Kirei Kotomine doesn’t quite feel natural, contrasting Kirei’s youthful exterior and feeling oddly unusual, in contrast to Crispin Freeman’s much more natural and fitting vocals. Bridget Hoffman does take a little while to get into her character, though by the mid-point is able to deliver lines on par with her Japanese counter-part, which sadly cannot be said for David Vincent, who never quite manages to capture the cocky arrogance tempered with wisdom and experience that Gilgamesh is known for. For both casts, Saber, Kariya and Kiritsugu all manage to stand out, which may be due to their characters having more emotional scenes that most of the others. On the whole, Fate/Zero is a very high quality, though not flawless, production.

Fate/Zero is a powerful and evoking series that has earned its status as being one of the best anime of the decade thus far, presenting many ideas and philosophies, meaningful conflicts and questions, that many lesser series would collapse under the weight of even a fraction of this content. However, it holds together, and this first half presents enough foreshadowing that it is unbelievable that anyone who can make it to the mid-point would desire not to continue.

Death Parade is an inventive and experimental anime that deserves praise for creativity alone, but its inability to function as an effective psychological thriller and minimalistic world building and flow prevent it from being much more than a passable series. This review may contain minor spoilers.

The story of Death Parade takes place in a bar called the “Quindecim”, in which an intimidating white-haired man named Decim and his associate, the mysterious “dark haired woman”, determine the fates of the deceased, in groups of two, who arrive at the bar simultaneously. The series alternates between focussing on a progressive overlaying plot involving those who work at ... Quindecim, and a semi-episodic plot devoted to the development of Decim and the dark haired woman in their dealings with the souls assigned to them. Sadly, these plots are not woven together with sufficient cohesion to allow them to flow naturally into each other, instead feeling jarring when they are switched between. On top of that, though the overarching plot presents several thought-provoking elements, they are not portrayed in a clear or tangible way, leaving the strange world of Quindecim feeling just as alien towards the end as it was at the beginning. This plot line feels as though its start is not that related to the appearance of the series catalyst, the dark haired woman, and ends without leaving the audience with much of a sense of progress. Some may even go so far as to say that this story line was simply added to alleviate the tension of the more heavy episodes and pad out the series length. Conversely, the semi-episodic story line is much more engaging, rife with conflict and visually exciting sequences that are much more inventive than anything to come from the overreaching plot. Over this story line, the dark haired woman serves relatively effectively as both a lens through which the audience can see the world and an interesting character in her own right. Decim is also a rather memorable character who sees satisfying, though not entirely convincing, change over the course of these events. However, the drama with the individual pairs often feels either over-baked or underplayed, often making what should be emotionally gripping moments feel unintentionally hilarious or low brow. This is extremely problematic, as this series seems to aim to be psychological, and if the humans in question do not feel or act like genuine people, then the psychological aspect becomes convoluted and unbelievable. On top of that, the series alternates between being very light-hearted and brutally nihilistic in a way that is likely to give the audience tonal whiplash. On the whole, the story for Death Parade, despite a promising setting, is disappointingly mediocre and unbalanced.

The characters in Death Parade are also a bit of a mixed bag. Thankfully, the strongest are the main characters, Decim and the dark haired woman, who have the most screen time. Both of them get relatively satisfying development by the end of the series, though it does feel a little rushed given that most of it occurs in the final third of the anime. However, given how heart-breaking the revelations regarding them become, the unusual pacing of the development can almost be forgiven. What is a little hard to forgive, however, is the time spent on other characters that unfortunately feels more like a waste of time than cast expansion or world building. After his dynamic introduction, Ginti quickly becomes a monotonous and one-note character whose presence generally means boring exposition and tasteless cruelty. Nona is better, but she doesn’t have much personality, alternating between humorous and thoughtful in a way that doesn’t make her seem multifaceted, but instead inconsistent. Arita and Harada, Ginti’s two free-loaders, are both relatively funny and their interactions made for the most hilarious and energetic episode of the series. However, the rest of the cast drag Death Parade down considerably. Oculus is the worst recurring character, with everything from his awkward character design and demeanour to his tendency to sprout what the arbiters already know making him a perpetually dry and dull character whose absence would have changed little in the series. The humans in the stand-alone episodes, however, are perhaps the series ultimate downfall. Though it could be argued that, due to their circumstances, it makes sense for them to act in an over-the-top manner, but for nearly every character to be either too relaxed or ultraviolent leaves the viewer feeling odd that there is no middle ground. Even though these characters get two episodes at most, they are supposed to be the ones leaving a lasting impression, and for them to come across as exaggerations of real people detracts from the psychological nature of the series, making it instead feel like an entertaining game-show at its best, and torture port at its worst. The characters being judged rarely display much subtlety, normally either screaming or whispering, making faces of unquenchable despair or bubbling anger, and outright stating their emotions. This is particularly evident in the first and ninth episode, in which nihilistic overtones are prevalent and mean-spirited, leaving the viewer with little sense of knowing these characters, much less understanding their situation.

The judgements themselves are also rather problematically lacking in detail or reasoning. First of all, the relationship between the people selected isn’t made particularly clear at any point. Normally, there is at least some theme relating the two of them, be it the importance of family or the desire to murder, but in some cases the character relationships feel considerably less strong, with Ginti’s pair being the most obvious exception. Additionally, for a viewership standpoint, the games themselves lack intelligence, with the audience not being given the opportunity to guess the outcome due to a lack of information. Instead, the audience are left watching unconvincing character conflict between exaggerations of real people in a world with very loosely defined rules and arbiters without much personality to them. Finally, though it would be fine for some judgements to feel slightly unusual of difficult to understand, many of them are outright unjustifiable. Given the nature of the arbiters’ abilities, they should be able to determine the person’s nature before they even walk in. Instead, they are left watching “people” play games and get hurt even though they are already likely aware of what their fates will be. On the whole, this system is creative, but flawed on so many levels that the inventively of it almost doesn’t matter. If you are prepared to turn your brain off and enjoy melodramatic games, then this should serve as entertainment for you, but the lack of strong world building of logic prevents this system from being memorable or emotionally compelling.

The animation for Death Parade is very high quality, as is expected from studio Madhouse. The games themselves are well designed, coloured and shot, giving them a foreign and ambient vibe that fits perfectly within the framework of the series. The most outstanding works of animation occur in the transitions to the game platforms and when Decim uses his peculiar ability. The action sequences, though few and far between, are a sight to behold, making use of dynamic cinematography as well as fluid movements and dynamic colours. Though the animation is strong and consistent throughout, peaking in certain parts when required, the art style is more hit-and-miss. Decim and the dark-haired woman have memorable designs that contrast each other perfectly, be it their eyes, build, hair or gender. The eyes of the arbiters are memorable, giving them a more synthetic vibe that separates them effectively from the humans they are judging. However, the designs for the rest of the cast are otherwise rather bland. For the most part, they have bland and standard facial structures and can only be told apart by their hair colour and style. The more gothic designs of the backgrounds gives the bar a sense of history and class while not overplaying it, making Quindecim a stand out set piece, but the green, foggy outside area doesn’t have nearly the same amount of effort or ingenuity applied to it. On top of that, Nona and Oculus’s designs don’t quite feel at home with the backgrounds and other characters. Oculus in particular feels, both narratively and in a design sense, like a character from another show, with his strange power feeling both cheap and lazy. The character designs for the humans are reminiscent of both “Persona 4: The Animation” and “Parasyte: The Maxim”, which is to say that they are quite boring and seem like they are trying too hard to feel normal. On the aesthetic front, Death Parade is an overall pleasant visual experience that fails to reach its potential due to unusual artistic decisions and a lack of consistent design.

Musically, the opening of Death Parade is catchy and memorable, but serves as a tragic reminder of the series identity problem. The ending is a little more true to form, but is lyrically too simple and monotonous to be enjoyable. The OST for Death Parade, as a whole, is suitably atmospheric, pulling at the viewers’ heart-strings when required, but it doesn’t quite do much in the quieter, subdued scenes. Also, it’s rather lacking in memorability, and there are many missed opportunities with it. Perhaps giving each game or character their own soundtrack would have made the music stand out more, but as it is the music has rather standard application, though it isn’t a bad soundtrack by any means. In terms of voice-acting, the dark haired woman is the most well measured, acting emotional when appropriate without overplaying the situation or coming off as cold. Decim, one or two scenes aside, is by design an aurally dull character, and this extends to most of the other arbiters as well. The voice acting for the human characters is much more bombastic, but too often strays into unconvincing melodrama that ultimately breaks the viewer’s immersion more that it contributes to it. Sadly, the sound for Death Parade is rather mediocre, with moments that stand out.

In conclusion, Death Parade is a series with strong animation and an inventive setting that manages to serve as an entertaining, but ultimately unmemorable watch due to its inability to choose what it wants to be, asking questions it displays no real deep thought towards in with an equally muddles art style. Though not bad, Death Parade is not a series I would go out of my way to recommend to people, in spite of its occasionally genuine and powerful dramatic moments.

Rurouni Kenshin is a well-paced, high quality shounen series with a plethora of interesting themes and organically developed characters that stands among the best of its demographic.

The story of Rurouni Kenshin, set in Japan at the beginning of the Meiji period towards that end of the 1800s, begins following a rurouni named Kenshin and his time at the dojo of Kaoru, a female instructor whom he assisted. Initially, the story is engaging but episodic, with the focus being on the slowly expanding cast and their small-scale battles against individual threats to their safety. Though the more relaxed first quarter of the story doesn’t quite have ... the impact of what follows it, it does a great job at establishing the characters and even providing some development for them. One of the strengths of this section is how historically astute it is, as it references some very relevant conflicts and struggles, such as racism towards Europeans and the use of opium. This gives this first section, and to an extent the whole series, a more grounded and realistic vibe compared to most other action shounen, which typically try to serve as action blockbusters. When Kenshin and friends head to Kyoto, however, things become much more intense. During this time, the plot becomes more focussed and layered, the cast further expands to encapsulate dozens of relevant players and the scope expands greatly. The conflict between Kenshin and the government with Makoto Shishio and his revolution is the most action-packed part of the manga series, though thankfully it retains the charm that made the first segment so endearing.

The last third of the series doesn’t feel quite as well-realised as the first two parts, with some unusual pacing and a conspicuous lack of tension despite the stakes and emotionally intensity being at an all-time high. Kenshin’s backstory and development in this half is what solidified him as a favourite character of mine, but for many of the side characters, barring Kaoru, their developments seems slightly redundant given everything they went through in the Kyoto arc. Ultimately, with a great backstory for Kenshin (which was adapted into the universally acclaimed “Rurouni Kenshin: Trust and Betrayal”) and a story final boss figure, the finale does manage to stand alongside its predecessors, though it lacks their consistency. Overall, in spite of its rather intimidating length, Rurouni Kenshin is one of the easiest manga series to read, rarely feeling boring and often proving that shounen series can be more than just fan service, explosions and childish philosophy.

The characters, even more so than the story, are where Rurouni Kenshin shines. Kenshin himself is by far and away the best character in the story, having won every single popularity contest within the manga and complimenting, rather than overshadowing, the rest of the cast excellently. He’s a kind and fair person who has strong moral obligations, but he never comes across as annoying, naïve or obnoxious, which is very uncommon in a shounen protagonist. His backstory and time spent as Himura Battousai are very intriguing, but he is neither a character completely defined by his past or separated from it; his character at the beginning of the series feels natural and relatable, as opposed to going for the lazier and more deterministic “I’m angry because my childhood sucked!” His struggle with self-acceptance, moral incapability to kill and desire to protect his new found family really sell the less consistent third of the story, and permeate throughout its entirety. On top of that, he’s multifaceted without being inconsistent, and can believably switch between being funny and serious in the space of a few seconds. The other main characters include Kaoru, a relatively fine character who doesn’t do much in the way of action, serving mainly as foil for Kenshin, Sanosuke, a delinquent who becomes more mature and willing to make sacrifices as the story goes along, and Yahiko, a brat who becomes a fine warrior, though physiologically really shouldn’t be anywhere near the battle. Sanosuke and Yahiko receive abundant development in the second third of the story, but are relatively likeable throughout and have good chemistry with the other characters, while Kaoru goes through the most in the final few chapters, reaching a satisfying conclusion with her character arc.

For the most part, the various supporting characters are interesting, varying significantly in their input to the story. Saito is a stone cold professional with a peculiar interest in Kenshin, and serves as great foil for him, and is an engaging recurring character that never ceases to be entertaining. Aoshi is another reoccurring character, but as he doesn’t quite have Saito’s flare, serving mainly as a walking sword after his emotional resolution in the Kyoto section. Megumi is strong and likeable, and gives some very wise and thoughtful advice, grounding the series very effectively and serving as a reminder that these characters are human and fragile. The villains towards the beginning are fairly generic, but Shishio and Enishi are anything but. Shishio is very much a megalomaniac, a psychopathic, power-hungry and fierce, having no ethics or people he isn’t prepared to sacrifice whatsoever. Serving as the only true “super villain” in Rurouni Kenshin, this scenery gobbler and his army are intimidating and add a layer of urgency that wasn’t present in the earlier sections. He doesn’t have much development, having been shown in a flashback to have always been the way he is, but with such charisma and energy it isn’t needed. Enishi is a much more misguided character, someone who is not kind by any definition, but doesn’t quite have Shishio’s hellfire attitude or complexion. He serves as a good final boss for Kenshin, though doesn’t quite reach the heights of Shishio. On the whole Rurouni Kenshin’s cast of characters is strong, with no dreaful characters and many great ones.

The art for Rurouni Kenshin isn’t quite as polished as other shounens, but has a strong Eastern flavour and character designs that makes this entirely forgivable. The characters eyes are more Shoujo than shounen in the earlier parts, though this does fit with the more laid back tone of the beginning. The backgrounds are rather plain, though detailed when necessary and very true to Japanese culture. The designs of the swords are a stand out, and the curvature, length and weight of them are all addressed and presented with consistency, giving each of the main characters’ swords a sense of identity. The outfits for the characters are also quit detailed and characteristic, from Kenshin’s teacher’s ridiculously long collar to Megumi traditional attire, the formality or militaristic qualities of the characters are well reflected in their clothes. The actions scenes are also quite strong, with each blow having a sense of weight and direction to it that never leaves the audience confused as to what is going on. The subtle facing expressions are another quality worth noting, as they capture complex emotions in a way that few manga series are able to do effectively, making the characters truly shine.

On the whole, Rurouni Kenshin is a narrative and artistic success that exceeds the quality to most shounens that followed it. Kenshin and the other characters serve their purpose well, even if some development feels repetitive, and the story is deliberately paced, rarely feeling rushed or drawn out. Rurouni Kenshin is a should-read manga that stands high among shounen titles.

Hibike! Euphonium is a curios production that in narrative, visuals and music has moments where it truly shines, but sadly they are diluted by mediocre plot points, unnecessary characters and unusual story structure, taking what could have been a strong and emotionally resonant series down to a pleasant, but ultimately scarcely memorable watch.

The story, centered around Kumiko Oumae and her music class companions as they try to get to the nationals, is very inconsistent in terms of emotional intensity, pacing and enjoyment. Throughout the early episodes, the story is focussed on introducing Kumiko and her friends, Midori and Hazuki, to the audience, however this is ... little initial tension or overbearing atmosphere to keep the audience engaged through this middling introduction. Hazuki increasing her capacity to breate, though insightful to those who are interested in the qualities required to play a wind instrument, is neither comedic nor engaging; even worse, it feels as though the audience are being forcefully pulled away from the considerably more interesting side characters like Asuka, Reina and the instructor, Taki. As the narrative progresses, other characters do become more relevant, but the results are mixed. An entire episode is spent focussing on a love triangle that goes nowhere, a conspiracy of nepotism that adds nothing and the main character faltering the episode before the climax. However, that’s not to say that the story is a failure; specific moments are so well written and directed that they are simply breathtaking, such as second halves of episodes 8, 11 and 13. On the whole, this leads to a story that feels too long in some ways, as it has many redundant gears that simple exist to pad out the series, yet too short in others, as the more interesting and resonant parts are never given the focus they deserve. Tragically, though all the ingredients were there to construct a heart-warming, memorable story, they were not handled with the competence required to make this a truly great slice of life series.

The characters are much like the story in terms of how mixed they are. Reina Kousaka is without a doubt the highlight character, boasting a stoic and occasionally cryptic attitude that makes her intriguing, but having sufficient depth and believability to make her relatable. Her scene on the mountain with Kumiko was the magnum opus of this anime, having sufficient build-up to warrant the reveal of her ideals without feeling cheap or melodramatic. However, her full potential isn’t quite reached, as conflicts are introduced regarding her, yet they rarely reach a resolution. Taki, the instructor, is also a very watchable character, but he gets little development or screen time, which, given the conspiracy surrounding his relationship with Reina, is quite a missed opportunity. Speaking of missed opportunities, Asuka has little done with her character after it is established, though thankfully this fault isn't nearly as glaring, as her interactions with the rest of the cast more than make up for it. However, regarding the character cast of Hibike! Euphonium, the praise ends there. The other characters all fall into the categories of being either disappointingly mediocre or outright boring. Kumiko joins the former category; perhaps she was intended to act as a character through which the audience could view the others, but this approach leaves much to be desired, because she seems like too much of a blank slate. She does have some development in the penultimate episode, but by then it is too little, too late, coming off as more of a desperate attempt at character growth instead of a relatable problem.

Instead of giving her more consistent growth, time is wasted on her friends, Midori and Hazuki, whose company would perhaps be more appreciated if they didn’t distract from the emotional core of the series, Kumiko and Reina’s relationship. As they are, they’re annoying, uninteresting friends who say way too much and add much too little. Though other characters, like Natsuki and Aoi aren’t bad by any means, they waste ample time in an anime that really needs to pick and choose its foci better. However, though everything mentioned thus far is mixed to a varying degree, there is one constant in Hibike! The comedy is uniformally bad. There is not one genuine laugh provided even though every trick in the moe-book-of-laughs is used. Breast gags come off as more obnoxious than anything else, awkward character interactions make the audience feel just as uncomfortable and the over the top facial expressions don’t gel with the more dramatic nature of the series. Sometimes the comedy and drama are shifted between with so little grace that the audience suffer from tonal whiplash, and occasionally it feels like even the series doesn’t know what it’s trying to communicate. That’s not to say the drama is done poorly; quite the contrary. The climax of the series sent chills down my spine, and the aforementioned conversation between Reina and Kumiko in Episode 8 resonated to my very soul. If there were more moments like this, Euphonium might have been great, but it must simply settle for being decent.

Surely the animation is its saving grace, right? Kyoto animation always delivers in this regard, right? Well, if you consider a spotless glass of water to be beautiful, then this will probably appeal to you. However, for me it didn’t stick out nearly enough most of the time to make this series a real spectacle. The character designs are bright and consistent, fluid and detailed, but lack a sense of identity needed to make them memorable. Chuunibyou’s character designs had a exuded a sense of silly optimism, giving the audience an idea of who they are before they even spoke. Hibike! Euphonium’s character designs, on the other hand, didn’t really have much emotion. Aside from Reina, who the animators seemed to priorities above everyone else just like the writers did, Kumiko and the others, particularly the males, are monotonous to watch, with their plain uniforms and uninteresting expressions. The animators not only seemed to put their best efforts into the best characters, but the best scenes as well. For the most part, the series is set in a detailed, yet ultimately blandly coloured and designed room, feeling very claustrophobic and unengaging, both visually and narratively. On top of that, wind instruments are, by design, not particularly notable visual stimulants, and the anime fails to work around this. Aside from the occasional mouth movement, the euphonium and trumpet players only occasionally move a single finger, and that’s in the rare instance that the frame is focussed on them. That's not to say the instruments themselves were bad, as they are extremely well drawn and lit, but they weren't utilised properly. The occasionally visited lake, however, is absolutely breathtaking, as is Reina’s resplendent white dress in episode 8 and the bridge shown during Kumiko’s meltdown in episode 12, which, along with the accompanying strong facial animation and soaring music, leaves me both wistful to see more, and disappointed that such well-directed scenes are so few and far between. On the whole, Hibike! Is easy on the eye, but serves very little purpose for the vast majority of the anime.

The score is much like the visuals; technically, it’s high quality, with crisp sound effects and realistic instrument sounds, but it feels much too safe and by-the-numbers to impress like it should, particularly in an anime the focusses so heavily on music. The OP and ED are both completely forgettable, often starkly contrasting the more dramatics episodes in the series and they’re both overall weak, generic songs in their own right. The voice acting for the male characters in this series is completely forgettable, even for Taki-sensei, barring one or two emotional moments. Kumiko’s fairly good, Asuka and Reina are both great, but Midori and Hazuki are nails on a chalk board, absolutely irritating in every line they speak. Interestingly, I think the voice actress for Kaori was the stand out, capturing the emotional intensity and restraint of her character in a role that would have been very easy to fumble in. The OST doesn’t back up this relatively strong group of voice actors very well, shining only, as was mentioned earlier, in the same moments as the characters and visuals, but being disappointingly mediocre in every other respect. It’s pleasant, certainly, and keeps up with the pace, but nothing is memorable or evoking, as the series further proves its inability to reach its potential.

The themes presented in Hibike! Euphonium, at least on paper, are resonant, relatable to people regardless of their age and should make for some emotionally satisfying moments. Themes such as being the underdog, finding self-acceptance and self-value and enjoying the little moments in life are all present. However, much like every other aspect of Hibike!, they’re a mixed bag. Reina herself struggles with her love for Taki, while also feeling slightly uncomfortable around him and very defensive of him, though this never reaches anything. Kumiko struggles with her ability, though after an outstanding character moment, this is resolved too easily and too late. Such themes and scenarios are peppered throughout, but the series messily tangles them, introducing too many and resolving few of them. Even Asuka is hinted to have some hidden secrets, but they never come to fruition.

Overall, Hibike! Euphonium is a can-see anime. If it looks like it will appeal to you, if you have fond memories of being in a school band or aren’t as concerned about messy structure, then you will by no means regret this. It’s pretty to look at, sound pleasant, and has some stand out moments that elevates it from so-so to decent, though if, like me, you would prefer something with a more decisive and competent handling of its themes and characters, there are better anime out there for you. However, a second season could blow many of my problems away, and if there is a second season, I’ll be watching.

(On a side note, the translation of Hibike! Euphonium to Sound! Euphonium is one I disprove of. Instead, direct and more tonally accurate translate would be “You Can Play! Euphonium”, though perhaps this would make the product less marketable. )

The manga series named Bokurano is a highly controversial and divisive narrative that, at its core, is a tale about human desire, nature and value. The story of Bokurano starts when a group of 15 children inadvertently sign a contract to save their world by piloting a giant mech, “Zearth”, and battling other, more dubious mechs. The start is rather slow, with the true nature of the series’ tone being initially elusive, but it quickly becomes apparent that neither the reader nor the characters were aware of the severity of their situation, which they are no longer able to escape. Once their predicament has been ... revealed, the manga becomes darker, with victory seeming impossible and the characters falling one by one.

The story, after the reveal, revolves around each of the fifteen pilots battling their own adversary, mustering as much daring and tactical ability as they can, often needing to sacrifice both the lives of their comrades and their firmly established ideologies. One of the merits of the story is that, much like Evangelion before it, it chooses to focus on sociological and psychological undertones within a context in which they can believably exist, rather than settling for a run-of-the-mill action romp. There isn’t a single punching-contest style battles; every conflict is emotionally charged and relevant to at least two characters. Not only does this make the stakes feel higher and the sacrifices more heart-breaking, but it allows huge variety between the battles, which could easily have felt repetitive and uninspired. Each struggle feels genuine, with no battle feeling like a shallow rehash or obligatory plot device. However, this can also lead to some horrifically slow pacing, which, though usually feeling relatively natural and relevant, sometimes feels like padding required for the chapter to reach its designated length. Also, in tune with the earlier variation, some of the character stories and moments don’t hit with quite the force of others. Like Evangelion, the series deviates from its monster of the week format more greatly as the series continues, becoming more and more complex, bordering on convoluted, but the depressing atmosphere and feeling of inevitable loss remain from beginning to end. On the whole, though, the story is sufficiently engaging for a reader with sufficient patience and investment. I read the whole manga series in one week, and couldn’t imagine reading it in any other way.

The characters, as was mentioned earlier, are where Bokurano is a particular stand out. Each character is deeply flawed, with the overcoming of their insecurities or weaknesses being driven by the uncertainty that they now find themselves facing. No two characters feel too identical, and they all have meaningful relationships with their families, friends and often other Zearth pilots, which ground them and give us a sense of deeply understanding who they are and what they believe in. This understanding gives us context into the part of them that’s really at the core of the narrative: if we were to die within a week, what would we want to do? Would we about business as usual, and not want to upset the flow of the world? Would we say our final goodbyes to our loved ones, devoting our final moments to others? Would we seek out our final opportunity to appease our selfish desires of violence, sex or revenge? Unless the reader is a robot or a perfect human, these questions would doubtlessly have appeared at least once to them. Given the nature of the story, I cannot go into detail without considerable spoilers, but Chizuru Honda and Kirei Yousuke do manage to stand above their contemporaries in terms of memorability.

The supporting characters serve their part well, seeming completely aware of their dire situation while also remembering that their lives lie in the hands of children, and treating them with appropriate delicacy and understanding without coming off as condescending or brash. The opposing mechs and their respective pilots are ominous and overbearing without detracting from the emotional core of the story, but the real star of the series is Dung Beetle. Much like Kyubey, he immediately arouses suspicion with his harsh attitude and cold, insulting demeanour, but even he has more layers than what is initially portrayed, and it’s easy for the audience to relate to, and even support, him towards the end of the story. This cast is ultimately what saves Bokurano when the pacing slows to a crawl or if the reader isn’t that interested in mech battles.

The art for Bokurano is just as interesting as its story and characters. At first it appears unremarkable; clean and polished, but without having much of an identity. However, that the side characters and the main characters have similar levels of detail and each individual character can be told apart from the others does set this series apart. The characters, for the most part, do not view themselves as exceptional, unbeatable individuals who deserve to be the stars of the story, and the art reflects this, painting them as regular people in extraordinary circumstances. There are also subtle differences between the characters in Bokurano and other manga, from a design perspective. The ears are oddly detailed, and the eyes are a similar size to those of real people; this gives the series a much more realistic aesthetic, which, combined with the unusually minimalistic range of expressions and simple levels of detail, makes look and feel more human than many series with a less high-concept setting. The mechs, particularly the enemies, are well-designed and unpredictable, with much of the tension in the battle arising from learning what they can do, what they will do and what their motivations and level of understanding are.

On the whole, Bokurano is not a series for people who want a flashy fun happy-go-lucky shounen with bright colours and brighter characters. It is an ugly, honest presentation of human weakness, strength, desire and nature that holds little sympathy for its readers/viewers. Its story, characters and art style all work cohesively to present a story that is simple on the surface, yet is underscored by a focus on humanity and youth.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency is an appropriately bombastic, artistically successful action series with engaging characters that falls just short of excellence.

The story of Battle Tendency starts 50 years after Phantom Blood in pre-World War II New York. It involves Joseph Joestar, the grandson of Jonathan, and his battles against the creators of the stone masks, ancient vampires named ACDC, Wham and Cars (yes, they are actually called this). One of the most appealing aspects about Battle Tendency’s story is that it spans across several different countries, involves many new and exciting characters and several creative set-pieces. The story is appropriately tense and fast paced ... while still retaining its humour in a way that feels natural and complementary, rather than conflicting. From the beginning until the end, the audience are not faced with the question of what will happen, but rather how it will. This leads to the more tense and engaging action sequences, helped largely by eccentric villains and likable lead and supporting characters.

Joseph Joestar is the most enjoyable part of Battle Tendency, balancing juvenile behaviour with quick, believable wit underpinned by his genuine kindness and awareness of the situation. His amusing running jokes, like guessing the enemies words and making them look foolish before defeating them, and his interactions with his allies and opposition really elevate the reading experience to something much more entertaining than it would first appear to be. Caesar is also an interesting character, appropriately brash and forceful, but he serves primarily as foil for Joseph. Lisa Lisa is memorable in both design and attitude, though is slightly short-changed in interaction and development. The other characters who show up briefly serve their purpose well without overshadowing the main characters, and the larger character cast gives Battle Tendency and overall grander feel than Phantom Blood. The villains are also quite distinct, each having a different attitude and method of defeating the main character, though ACDC is admittedly less compelling than Cars or Wham. They feel legitimately threatening, though at times they do fall into shounen stereotypes.

The art is of slightly higher quality than Phantom Blood’s, though the main reason for the aesthetic improvement lies in the more ambitious designs. Joseph looks much like Jonathan, but is more noticeable because of the unique way in which his body moves. Caesar looks much like Joseph, but a few key changes, such as his hair style and bandana, does prevent the audience from ever confusing the two of them. Lisa Lisa looks quite different to all other females in Jojo’s Bizarre adventure, seeming strong, agile and confident without pride or bombast. The villains’ designs, however, are the most outstanding visual element of Battle Tendency. They appear proud and ancient while still maintaining that distinct Jojo look of strength and durability. The action sequences, without exception, are well-crafted, clearly drawn and never leave the audience feeling cheated or underwhelmed.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency is a sizable step-up from Phantom Blood in many aspects, be it engaging and distinct characters, or well-drawn and executed action or comedy, Battle Tendency is a great shonen action series with a lot going for it, and I certainly recommend it to anyone who enjoyed Phantom Blood.