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To preface, I shall rip the band-aid straight off: BLEACH: Thousand Year Blood War - The Separation isn’t a replication of cour 1’s excellence. However, this is because the critically acclaimed cour 1 is nothing less than a 10/10 as a flawless narrative masterclass of beautiful thematics, symbolism and poetry brought by Tite Kubo to the forefront of his story to loom over Bleach’s radical expansion and acceleration of plot-points as well as the many foreshadowed twists that came with it here in the series’ most ambitious and ultimate arc; all whilst encased in state-of-the-art production values and direction. It is a perfect showcasing of ... the battle genre which–true to Ichigo’s motif–shattered fate; and became something greater and more successful than what most anyone was expecting. One that had successfully revitalized the series from a classic into a neoclassic. Competing with what is nigh-universally acknowledged as the pinnacle of Bleach (at least, for now) is obviously a feat in and of itself. But cour 2 still retains the essence of the first with the same cinematic productional aspects; nothing less than a 9 whilst at the same time serving as an intermediate between the initial narrative blitzkrieg of cour 1 and the apocalyptic climax and prophetic unification of Bleach’s story in the next two cours. For you see, TYBW has 206 chapters. Cour 1 adapted Ch 480-542 and this cour adapted around 70 chapters, leaving around just 80 chapters to be adapted within the next two cours. Substantial new extended content is all but confirmed and just where TYBW needed it. Thus, The Separation will (reassuredly enough) be the weakest cour in this series’ greatest arc, where everything comes full circle and we end at the beginning.

It is difficult to truly display The Separation’s brilliance (as well as the previous cour’s) without spoiling it. The Separation begins immediately after the events of the ethereal ‘The Blade Is Me’ - the most important moment in the entire story in which we see the culmination of Ichigo's character interwoven with all of the powerful major themes and recontextualizing foreshadowings of Bleach as well as the nigh-conclusion of his character arc. Cour 2 carries on the incredibly sharp and polished, streamlined 13-episode experience and is still filled with a powerful architect and depiction of emotion. The pacing is a stark contrast to the 2004 anime and mirrors the streamlined experience of binging Kubo’s cinematically paced and presented manga of aestheticism.

Cour 2 is laced with back-to-back dynamic fights, and these all serve a purpose either to the overarching and ambitious plot-heavy narrative structure and/or several character pieces. Dialogue, subtext, symbolism, themes and the wrapping of character arcs are all executed in very powerful ways through these fights. They have meaning and aid in character writing which works in tandem with Bleach’s worldbuilding and lore. This series has always been a character-driven story. It is a collection of character pieces that explore different themes and concepts but which the overarching plot catalyzes and serves to unite as a cohesive whole.

The power system in Bleach (Reiatsu) is a major contributor to this. Cour 1’s romantically written and beautiful climax the ‘Everything But the Rain’ flashback and the subsequent ‘The Blade Is Me’ (EP11-13) not only proved that Bleach is not merely about fights but also its intimate characters, plot revelations and developments; but as well as how the series iterates on its themes and concepts smartly. Reiatsu is inherently adjacent to the major themes of identity and duality in this series, which was fully demonstrated when we learned about the balancing nature of the Hollowfication process; White, and thus Ichigo himself, inherently being tied to these major themes by proxy of this thematically rich mechanic once looking at the nature of his Hollow-Shinigami powers. The Zanpakuto, or the Schrift, or the Resurreccion, is the characters’ fingerprint; an extension of their soul and personality. Aside from having immaculately designed powers to look at, it helps us learn about the characters through brilliant displays of their identity manifested through combat. Every single character is given abilities that complement them and there’s always an underlying theme to their movepool rather than an uncorrelated, random mess. This cour reinforces Reiatsu as an exemplary power system. The Separation truly plays to its strengths as a character-driven battle series not only by using the gorgeously produced and choreographed battle spectacles as the foundation for which character pieces are developed but also by tying these pieces into the wider world of Bleach. Examples of this sophisticated assimilation of storytelling elements are Komamura and his relation to the Beast Realm, Ichibei and his progenitive relation to the Bleach cosmology, and Yhwach alongside his Schutzstaffel and their relation to the Soul King. Reiatsu, unlike most power systems such as Nen, is not a needlessly convoluted and mechanical one for the sake of it. It operates on soft logic because Kubo recognizes that characters and narrative are more important than the power system and environment and that creatively unique abilities paired with interesting match-ups are far more important for writing engaging fights than needlessly complex mechanics that read like pseudo-science and are ultimately a trivial slog for the reader. It’s why despite many of the fights’ similar structure in this series, they are still engaging along with other aforementioned factors such as authentic character drama and exchanging of ideological and philosophical dialogue if not the characters themselves, rather than a fixation on power system mechanics debased from reality.

A good example of all of this is As Nodt’s battle with who I will not spoil. The dialogue and his character dynamic with his opponent are genuine and the abilities displayed here are among Kubo's most creative. The interaction between his Fear Manipulation and his opponent’s Absolute Zero is ingenious and thoroughly engaging. It’s fun seeing busted abilities thoughtfully counterbalancing each other; with one of my personal favourite things about the final arc being how the power system leans towards more hax and abstract/conceptual abilities; thematically befitting as it reflects the escalation of stakes in this arc and the Quincies seeing themselves and being portrayed as a higher class of elite soldiers compared to the Shinigami and Arrancar. The power system is capable of creating esoteric yet easy-to-follow abilities without being convoluted or having to resort to mindless beam spams and fist-waving instead. Another example is Kenpachi’s fight. Not only was this a great beneficiary of the refreshing pacing of the TYBW adaptation as an efficiently condensed single continuous high-octane action sequence due to many of the manga panels being art pieces, but this fight embodies the essence of Bleach. It's a story where the very concept of "To fight" is a centralizing force. Kenpachi has always embodied this the most, and after his intimate battle with Yachiru Unohana the First Kenpachi in EP9-10 ‘The Drop’ and ‘The Battle’ of cour 1, he became the embodiment of a Shinigami–the true embodiment of death. Meanwhile, his opponent who I will not spoil has the power to imagine anything in and out of existence, which is the otherworldly and dynamic nature of the fights in Bleach taken to its utmost extreme. Kenpachi cuts down anything thrown at him, including oneshotting a meteor capable of nuking the Seireitei and slicing through the fabric of space itself because he is just that much of a "monster". It's thematic with him being THE Kenpachi and displaying through BATTLE the weight that such a title holds. Kubo went about creating such an overpowered ability in the opponent perfectly, by essentially turning the whole fight into one big thematic execution; and the conclusion for his opponent is layered in symbolism and poetry. The beauty and the beast dynamic and the brawn vs brain dynamic of these two fights respectively are merely the final thematic touch. However, probably the very greatest example of Bleach’s deceptive amount of depth regarding battles is Ichibei’s this cour, which serves as the finale; embodying the true essence and soul of Bleach thematically, conceptually and aesthetically whilst it insurmountably pushes forward the lore and worldbuilding of the story along with the two conflicting characters in the aptly named episode titled ‘A’.

Kubo’s characters, main and side alike, contribute to the themes and worldbuilding of Bleach, and are intelligently utilized throughout the story so as not to take away from the core narrative and characters. For the most part, characters come into the narrative, contribute their part, and exit stage left. For instance, the supporting characters Yachiru and Isane–who among many had their character arcs in focus last cour–are neatly wrapped up in this one in respect of the battle between the two Kenpachis, or their two Captains respectively. And this will be a reoccurrence for others such as Nanao in the future. Character interactions in this series are always sentimentally written and meaningful. Even tertiary characters like the otherwise one-note comedy relief Keigo in this arc gets nuance and depth to him with his outburst towards Kyoraku after learning of the Soul Society’s possible dark intentions for Ichigo. The TYBW adaptation also includes Kubo’s elegant chapter epilogue poems for each episode, which serve as pseudo-supplemental content that enriches his already powerful characterizations. This all applies to the Sternritter as well, and their approach to character writing is refreshing. The Espada gathered together for their own reasons, they were individualistic in nature. Aizen got them under his control simply because he was stronger than them. But with the Sternritter, they follow Yhwach because he’s their king. They believe in his ideology and they all bear the same grudge against the Shinigami. There is no need for full-fledged backstories for all of them besides the war 1000 years ago which we get this cour as anime-original content, for the strong yet subtle thematics displayed here justify it. It is something that’s always been characteristic of Kubo’s writing: The Arrancar arc shared a similar plot structure to the Soul Society arc but was thematically polar to it and is how this structural iteration is justified: The Hollow-centric arc created an intentional yin-yang, or inverted mirror with the Shinigami arc that ingeniously iterates on the two races’ opposite interactions with Humans (Shinigami release the soul, Hollows consume the soul) and the overarching theme of duality via the series’ very structure itself.

On the topic of duality, the main villain Yhwach serves as a great parallel to Aizen. Aizen is a slow-burner who is methodical, conniving and planning in the shadows. You can see his machinations from the very beginning of the canon manga timeline back in the ‘Turn Back the Pendulum’ arc. Yhwach is the opposite: He is introduced in the final arc, and thus, we immediately get to know him and he is even immediately more impressive in many respects as he is immediately boots-on-the-ground, even killing Yamamoto - the pillar of the Soul Society, before targeting the Soul Palace. Actually, he and his soldiers accomplish more against the Soul Society than Aizen and his army in just the first invasion. All of this makes total sense as well; Yhwach is a warlord, whilst Aizen is a scientist. They both ultimately play the overarching villain in the story and want the same thing, but for different reasons with different end-games; with the latter having a personal connection with the Soul King and Ichigo having personal stakes against them both for different reasons. Kubo even tells this duality visually, with Aizen dressed in all white and slick, whilst Yhwach dressed in all black and dominates the page composition. Both are excellently written characters for thematically inverse reasons and regarding the Sternritter in particular, their actions can believably be justified and sympathized with. Kubo hits the perfect balance between pure evil and sympathetic for his villains. They aren’t cartoonishly evil and shallow like in Oda’s writing, nor are they cornily humanized and declawed like in Kishimoto’s writing. Kubo writes ruthless villains and leaves their moral interpretation up to the viewer. This moral greyness especially works because Bleach operates under a morally grey, nihilistic world that allows for more nuanced lore, worldbuilding and cosmology; and which begins being placed centre-stage in this cour. Such a world inevitably seeps into the cast and shares onto them its nuance and creates these complex characters such as Aizen, Yhwach, the Shinigami’s entire purpose not as heroes but merely arbiters of the universal order, and by extension their complicated dynamic with the Quincies. Depending on how you look at the final battle which the fate of existence rests upon, it is between either two morally evil characters, between two morally ambiguous characters, or one good and one bad.

The Sternritter are consistent in their great characterization and depiction as a terrorizing force for the Shinigami, with none of them being push-overs and which required inherent identity introspection from the Shinigami in order to be overcome. Some xamples of this were the beautiful (and in the latter’s case, tragic also) closure of character pieces for Rukia and Komamura that tied back to Byakuya and Tosen respectively all the way to their beginnings in the series. Even Byakuya is revitalized here through simple yet ingenious strokes by Kubo that make him one of the most pivotal players; Kubo characteristically doing much with little. My one singular gripe with cour 1 was Byakuya not dying after his brutal loss against As Nodt despite a flawless closure to his masterful character development that would’ve elevated Rukia, Renji and As Nodt’s characters as well. Alas, this was unfortunately out of Kubo’s control as he wanted to prioritize his own life from the death threats he was receiving for the daring decision to kill off such a massive fan favourite, thus did a 180 on Byakuya’s fate only a few chapters later. However, in spite of that, Kubo intelligently justified Byakuya’s existence here despite being ultimately done with his character writing with how he was implemented as a supporting character, and this was even reflected in his subtle power-up in contrast to the Bankai, Shikai and Shunko awakenings of many others reflective of their character progressions after they were all forced to lick their wounds and mourn their losses from the brutal Quincy blitzkrieg last cour. The Sternritter being the menace to the Soul Society also rewrite the architecture of the Seireitei with their own gothic European palaces, castles and building of the Wandenreich as the Schatten Bereich engulfs the Seireitei from beneath and envelopes it in a sky that’s soaked in blood red. It’s reminiscent of the humiliation they made the Shinigami suffer in their first invasion and these visual overhauls against the Shinigami are hauntingly imposing representations of their dominance up to this point. There is also something novel about the Thousand Year Blood War taking place beneath a blood-soaked sky.

And, Kubo takes inspiration from other forms of media such as music, as well as high art, philosophy, mythology, history and religion when writing his world and characters (such as Aizen representing Nietzsche’s “ubermensch”, or the Bleach cosmology being based on Buddhist Samsara). In relation to the Sternritter as a collective in their motif, there is clear inspiration in aspects from Nazi Germany and the Roman Empire. Their revolutionary technology from the last cour and here with their occultist undertones mirroring occultism in Nazism with Uryu performing the ritual of drinking Yhwach’s blood in order to be bestowed his Schrift; all whilst being thematic to the race war Yhwach is initiating. All of this is to say that it shows the deceptive amount of thought and care put into these multi-dimensionally designed characters and world by Kubo.

However, I can’t deny that the emotion here in cour 2 is generally weaker relative to the emotional rollercoaster that was the first. Amongst the biggest reasons why everything adapted in cour 1 is almost universally regarded as the pinnacle of Bleach is because of the incredibly powerful impression left by the Sternritter. The Sternritter’s blitzkrieg of the Seireitei was very real in its depiction of warfare whilst providing us with the very peak of what the battle shounen genre is capable of with its prowess in spectacles. The Wandenreich declare an ostentatious and symbolic declaration of war by killing the Captain Commander’s Lieutenant just to spite the Shinigami, they lie about invading in 5 days for a tactical advantage, they overwhelm the Shinigami with advanced technology in the form of the Bankai-stealing medallion (literally robbing them of a part of their soul and identity), there is a morale boost and subsequent shattering among the Shinigami, EP6 ‘The Fire’ and EP7 ‘Born in the Dark’ are chaotic and with pacing that almost marches in a rapid tone, and of course, Yamamoto’s seething hatred for Yhwach in their very personal feud that’s filled with powerful subtext, followed by his gutturally ignoble death (he still died standing like the warrior he was, though); the Quincy with complete disrespect for and mockery of the Shinigami using cheap tactics as a reversal to the similar ones the Gotei 13 had used on them 1000 years ago. It was all very dark and gritty, and perfectly encapsulated resentment and despair.

Aside from the breakneck pacing itself being fresh and keeping TYBW dynamic, the fruits of its labour can already be seen from this arc onwards. In its most minor extent, this cour still sees a surge in anime-original content every episode through polished storyboards that make existing scenes more impactful or provide fresh perspectives of concurrent events in the timeline; and through small meaningful character dialogues that enrich characterizations and character dynamics. An example of this is all the subtle changes to the Sternriter’s meeting with their emperor Yhwach. Many new faces are introduced here much earlier in order to better their intrigue rather than an abrupt introduction later where they play their centrepieces, and Bazz-B is portrayed as having his own group much like Bambietta with the ‘Bambis’/Femritters. There are subtle additions that provide foreshadowing and earlier establishing of plot-points for pay-offs down the line, such as Haschwalth’s dialogue with his maid regarding to Uryu and Yhwach’s shadowy plan for him, or Ichigo’s passage through the Soul Palace relative to the sinistry of Ichibei. Even minute things like ordering all the Sternritter by Schrift alphabet at the communal shows the attention to detail for this anime.

Anime-original content at its most major, however, is creating entirely new sequences for new plot-points and the development of existing ones. For instance, the ominous tears in the fabric of reality that loom and disappear are revisited here. Or, in what is the greatest example of anime-original content this cour, and that which was left a mystery in the previous one: The historical context of the entire run of this arc and the crux of its namesake - the Thousand Year Blood War. In what was arguably the greatest episode of cour 1–EP7 ‘Born in the Dark’–we got an incredible flashback of the original Gotei 13 and the battle in the Seireitei itself 1000 years ago; and this revelation is fully realized here in EP13 ‘Too Early To Win, Too Late To Know’ with the lengthy flashback of Yhwach’s original Licht Reich and his dynamic with Ichibei. Elements of the biggest mystery in Bleach–the existence of the Soul King–are now being unravelled to their eerie core and thus, the expansion of the Bleach cosmology. Many of these character and lore/world bits are much-needed incorporations from the Can’t Fear Your Own World sequel to the Bleach manga - an incredibly written sequel light novel to the manga by fellow Bleach enjoyer the author of Baccano–known for his masterfully concocted ensemble casts–and supervised and drawn by Kubo. It is a work that completes the Bleach canon and elevates its lore and worldbuilding to some of the best and most fascinating in the medium. And it’s reassuring to see this external canon being assimilated into the main source. All of this is indicative of the passion project and love letter to Bleach fans that this anime is by the Pierrot staff. This isn’t a soulless 1:1 adaptation capitalizing on nostalgia, it’s an immaculately produced endeavour by Bleach fans and overseen by industry-setting direction by Taguchi with Kubo as a guiding figure and conceptualist. Creative liberties extend to certain chapters being slotted elsewhere where more appropriate and sometimes carved up to the point of being completely unrecognizable from the source material.

The TYBW adaptation continues to have state-of-the-art theatrical levels of art, directing, compositing, storyboarding, animation, backgrounds, music, sound design and voice acting. The Separation follows the same smart resource management as cour 1 - it accomplishes all of these production feats, and when allowed to truly move with its key animation, it produces amongst the best fights in the medium due to state-of-the-art animation carrying all these other nigh-flawless productional strengths along with it. Visual artistry and directional finesse persist, like how this cour symbolically began with Yhwach in abstract imagery and ended with him just like in cour 1. True to Kubo’s manga, the TYBW adaptation has a clear appreciation for aesthetics. And regarding music, Sagisu does an exceptional job balancing out the nostalgia and new tracks while, as he himself stated, respecting the European-inspired orchestrations for the Quincies. Furthermore, he gives deeper meaning to the tracks as they symbolize character arcs. The transition cards are great too, which aside from being aesthetic, is a clever directing decision that doesn't interrupt the flow of the action whilst maintaining viewers aware of the lore bits with conveniently put-together information within the episode itself, thus being part of the general experience without the need for outside material.

We get a lot of cinematic wide-angle shots this cour too to show us the grand, otherworldly expanse of the Seireitei, the Soul Society, the Soul Palace and its individual Zero Squad palaces (with Ichibei’s palace even getting a name, thematically enough), and the Silbern hidden within the Schatten Bereich as the narrative begins unravelling the enigmatic lore and worldbuilding that this series has to offer. The few moments of CGI that exist in this anime are sharply implemented as well, with industry-setting compositing complementing it. Tone, atmosphere, colouration and lighting are aspects of this anime that are utterly flawless and so effectively create immersion to an even greater extent than the manga. The lighting, effects and animation all combine to create impact. Soft lighting is used to give everything a more subtle glow and let colours truly pop, whilst the utilization of dynamic lighting creates more emotionally charged, powerful scenes. And whilst Kubo’s thematically relevant black and white backgrounds work excellently in the manga for placing emphasis on his characters and their emotions in the panels, the anime meanwhile has some of the most gorgeously detailed and scenic backgrounds in the industry to bring those characters to life on the screen.

‘Kubology’ prevails this cour and The Separation continues with the sophistication of cour 1. Not to the same extent, perhaps, but that is to be expected and it is there nonetheless. This cour adapted the weakest parts of TYBW and thus, this will be the weakest cour of the adaptation. Yet, in this part still exists amongst the highest points in the series, such as As Nodt's battle, Kenpachi’s battle and Ichibei’s battle. It continues to exude the status of a passion project and is an adaptational work of art that undeniably elevates an already great source material with its own strengths. TYBW is Kubo’s most ambitious arc; the unprecedented culmination and cultivation of Bleach’s narrative and the rapid-fire progression of his characters, wider world and thematics. They all return this cour and will escalate in the next. Bleach is a sophisticated shonen rife with literary devices such as symbolism, visual/textual metaphors and allegories. Kubo’s nature in artistic and poetic storytelling has led to a masterstroke in thematic execution and structuring that involves beautifully meaningful and eternal themes such as death and the afterlife, identity and self-discovery, duality and balance, sacrifice and redemption, honour and duty, friendship and loyalty, and power and ambition. These themes intertwine and evolve throughout the narrative of Bleach, but especially so here in the finale, where a complex and multifaceted story engaging with both personal struggles and grand-scale conflicts is truly realized. The series’ lore and worldbuilding begin to properly unravel in this arc and here in this cour in particular with their ascension into an expansive yet interwoven ethereal cosmology of great immersion. There is both a deep elegance to Bleach and a dark undercurrent to TYBW with its subtle visual storytelling and the powerful way in which it utilizes the abundance of subtext that’s in its world; all layered by a mature, articulate and aesthetic cast comprised of profound characterization and compelling dynamics with one another.

"All human beings have things that cause them comfort, and things that cause them fear. When they enter a place that causes them comfort, if questioned as to why they feel comfortable there, they cannot form a clear answer, merely saying things such as 'because I do'. But when they enter a place that causes them fear, even the dullest of fools can identify the causes of that fear. Darkness, cold, height, confinement, pain, contamination. People can list any number of reasons to be afraid. This is because at the most fundamental level, 'comfort' leads to 'life', whilst 'fear' leads to 'death'. While people cannot give a clear answer why they want to live, they can give any number of answers why they do not wish to die." -As Nodt

Everything this anime was praised for in the first season--high production values, cinematic direction, extensive worldbuilding and engaging turning points--is now nonexistent as it hones in on all the things that made this a nauseatingly unpalatable work from the very beginning. The only thing that remains this season is what Mushoku Tensei has always been at its core: An unsophisticated and unprofessional generic power fantasy isekai with fetishistic eroticism as its defining characteristic.

Mushoku Tensei wants to have its cake and eat it by being a pensive fantasy epic about redemption with immersive worldbuilding whilst incorporating trashy seasonal ecchi power fantasy elements operating on hentai ... logic into its narrative. Instead, the former narrative style gets engulfed by the latter because the author can’t help himself and the end result is a sum lesser than the parts that reads like a degenerate fanfiction masquerading as a coming-of-age story. This disconnect plagued the first season and jeopardized any prospect of Mushoku Tensei being a serious story, but the second season thoroughly exposes this tonal and thematic mess as the failed assimilation of the two antithetical storytelling approaches that it is; this season only serving to expand the MC’s forced harem. To some, the insufferably grating MC is part of what makes this isekai special. In actuality, the series shows no signs of meta-commentary about this character chasing underage girls as a 21st-century first-world Japanese male inside a medieval fantasy world. The show instead fully embraces it and I suppose its only half-hearted attempt at self-awareness is always playing it off as laughs with the overreliance on vulgar humour. As with any joke, it stops being funny the nth time it's used. Rudeus is continuously shown to still have the mental age and awareness of a 34-year-old contemporary otaku through various forms of dialogue and his interactions with Man-God even depict him in his past-life state to reinforce that fact, yet the story does nothing meaningful about it in order to justify the very concept in which it's founded upon and lets him fully pursue his perversion. Moreover, it’s awfully convenient how the worldbuilding of this extremely derivative medieval fantasy setting is fine-tuned to the MC’s tastes (whilst pretending it’s vice-versa), such as the low age of consent, society’s liberal attitudes towards it, physically ageless lolis for him to obsess over (e.g. Roxy), etc. Getting killed by a truck was the best thing to happen to him because not only can he and does he finally act on his pent-up perversions with no repercussions, but he also immediately jumps from the rock-bottom of the social hierarchy to high-value with no effort and self-improvement whilst being a natural prodigy for everyone to revolve around. Rudeus is such a skilled badass that even while depressed, the leader of an S-ranked Adventurer party mistakes his low energy as him hiding his power level due to looking down on his peers and thus develops an inferiority-complex towards him. This is totally not a wish-fulfilment series. It's a shame Soldat's character among many others has to be brought down like this in order to inauthentically raise the MC up. Redemption story this is not, and in line with the insipid conventions of modern isekai, au contraire is the normalization of escapism and the promotion of docility.

Straight off the bat, this arc is about the MC’s erectile dysfunction. The 34-year-old psyche inside a healthy teenage body is now impotent from the shame and trauma of his underage cousin leaving him after bedding her last season. There is no shame in the act of bedding his underage cousin itself and using that instead as an opportunity for the MC to grow, of course; which was instead celebrated due to everything I have already established about the type of series this is. The new ED premise is farcical on multiple layers. It’s the start of a new story despite the one thus far being left unfinished, and the plot immediately degenerates into aimless, feeble meandering with lethargic pacing that reads more like the author’s escapist hentai fanfiction than ever before. It takes an inoperative veer from Rudeus having to escape an alien continent and reuniting his family into him breezing through a magic academy in laxity (as if one extremely derivative setting for this series wasn’t enough) and hoping he’ll somehow cure his impotence there. There is no defined act structure nor genuine narrative drive and momentum, and it feels like a tedious detour from the initial story. More importantly, however, is that this entire premise is made all the more laughable by the fact that it’s based on the dopey contrivance of Eris’ unrealistically stupidly written letter and irrational decision to abandon Rudeus. The author struggles to write believable character flaws. Thus, the story here is not only nonsensical, unengaging, moves at glacial speed and is tonally dissonant from pre-established plot-points, but its very foundation is contrived and it should never exist. In fact, the erectile dysfunction arc is so bad and borders on filler that the manga skipped it entirely and reduced it to supplemental content. And the worst part about all this is the resolution through familiarity - operating on the aforementioned hentai logic that in any other story would read as a cop-out if this entire arc wasn’t just an excuse to add a collectable to the expansive harem.

As I said, this season only serves to expand Rudeus' forced harem because that is the type of series Mushoku Tensei ultimately is - a generic power fantasy harem of which the fantastical elements merely orbit. Otherwise, the narrative wouldn’t be so unfocused and riddled with inconsequential subplots. The author should’ve simply played to his strengths of writing a fantasy epic (as flawed as it already was) instead of trying to write character-driven introspectives, since he can’t write believable characters and character dynamics. Dialogues are extremely corny and all the characters seem to have IQs on the left end of the bell curve in order for the plot to progress based on unintelligent character decisions, accidental happenings, poor character drama as well as plot conveniences as if the causality of this world flows to the tune of Rudeus. A good example of this is the embarrassing feud between Rudeus and Sara, but there isn’t a more egregious one than the entire “will-they-won’t-they” plotline between Rudeus and Sylphiette which is excruciatingly self-aggrandized into seven episodes of non-happenings between an apparently dunce MC who (still) lacks any social cues and a love interest who apparently only now is discovering the basics of life; dragged on so the finale can serve as a “reward” for the viewer because this anime knows exactly the people it caters to. The main cast is just exaggerated isomorphs of trite and vapid anime archetypes whilst most of the rest of the cast are one-notes who will typically be used for comedy relief that stops being funny the second or third time the joke is made--such as Elinalise, who's entire character revolves around sex and represents everything vulgar about the series. One might've thought Eris was the most annoying female in the series for her muscle-brained tsundere demeanour, but turns out Sylphiette and Elinalise are even worse. Seems as though every season there’s only one respectable, dynamic character in the narrative. Last season this was Ruijierd and this time it seems to be Ariel, though it's too bad she's unable to carry like the former.

TL;DR: Inconsistent and mediocre production values, bad compositing, no directional finesse, dreadful and bloated storyboards, lethargic pacing, repulsive thematics, drenched in plot contrivances, good character designs with annoyingly awful character-writing and even worse character drama, extremely derivative world, infantile humour, and atrocious dialogue.

Mushoku Tensei takes a subgenre of anime culture that’s always been tawdry, packages it in a fantasy epic, and the package starts leaking and creasing to the inside contents. Any sophistication that the show suggested it might have in the first season is thrown out the window, and production values can't save it this time. If you want an immersive and cinematic fantasy epic, watch Wit's Attack on Titan or Ufotable's Fate/Zero. If you seek an introspective coming-of-age anime with themes of the importance of bonds/family/kinship, there are a plethora of titles in this medium across genres that do that better. Unfortunately, Mushoku Tensei fails to fulfil the niche of being a hybrid competently; which is a shame because Rifujin is not unable to write a good narrative and Mushoku Tensei had potential to be something good.

Oshi no Ko attempts to be a social commentary on the dark side of the entertainment industry, and in particular show business. This is a rather underused theme in anime and thus one with a lot of untapped potential. Idol culture is a truly malignant one; an exploitative business that takes away your youth and will spit you back out after chewing you up with no regard if the profile the moguls have curated for you as an object of worship to cater to and be funnelled by a dangerously obsessive fanbase doesn’t work out. It’s a shame then that it doesn’t execute this commendably. ... In a self-defeating fashion, the product here is one where artistic choices are primarily motivated by the desire to achieve broad financial success and generate maximum profits, rather than driven by a genuine artistic intention to communicate a message.

You see, Oshi no Ko includes themes of the aforementioned ugly in the entertainment industry, teenage pregnancy, terminal illness, cyberbullying and suicide, and fails spectacularly at offering a unified storyline that allows for a thorough exploration of these subjects. It tries to combine them all with hackneyed anime tropes such as reincarnation (more on this later) and the fetishisation of underage girls all within single episodes. Instead what happens is it merely shows common preconceptions and stereotypes of said problems before Aqua--the Gary Stu protagonist--with his omniscient eyes, saves the underage damsels in distress in the most boring way possible by the end of the episode. The anime's treatment of these specific matters lacks the ability to stimulate critical thinking or evoke emotional responses, as they are swiftly resolved and subsequently forgotten. It almost seems as though these topics are merely used as a convenient device to introduce new female characters into the self-insert MC’s harem, rather than being intended to prompt any meaningful reflection on the issues themselves or the characters involved.

The anime faces an identity crisis with its glaring issue of the lack of clarity regarding its overarching theme. The question of what the anime truly aims to be and who it revolves around is persistent throughout the series. Consequently, it becomes an incoherent mix of various story elements, plagued by severe structural and compositional flaws that hinder its realisation. The initial revenge plot involving Aqua feels cheap and neglected, in desperate need of a more substantial and coherent narrative thread. The story lacks the necessary dramaturgy to engage and captivate. Essentially, the narrative becomes overly burdened by a documentary-style portrayal of the entertainment industry, which adds little value beyond reiterating publicly available information. Once this portrayal exhausts its purpose, the anime regresses into cringe ship wars in a media setting (Mind you, Aqua is a 30-year-old man in a child’s body in all of this).

The series also lacks any comprehension of what “show, don’t tell” is--one of the most fundamental rules of storytelling. Audiovisual media should always seek to show rather than tell, and Oshi no Ko’s ineptitude towards this rule might lead one to believe that it’s an adaptation of a light novel hence all the temporally-deaf verbose, but it’s not. Regarding the aspects pertaining to the darker side of the industry, they are often presented in a lacklustre manner, lacking impact and significance, despite being central to the show's theme. It seems as though the author simply compiled a list of industry-related revelations and loosely incorporated them into the story, rather than integrating them seamlessly and thoughtfully. It’s unfortunate that the author did not invest additional effort to naturally weave these elements into the narrative.

Despite Oshi no Ko being marketed as a critique of the entertainment industry, it gives off the impression that its purpose is to cater to and satisfy the fragile egos of idol fans in the audience. The narrative indirectly conveys the notion that "Idol fans can be cruel, but the self-insert MC (a 30-year-old fixated on a 16-year-old idol) is at least virtuous because he possesses genuine knowledge about the 'dark side of the industry' concerning his beloved idols." There is said doctor's underage patient and now underage sister who aspire to gain popularity and look up to their "onii-san". Additionally, there is another underage actress who desires fame and develops an infatuation with the adult male protagonist, and yet another. It’s all accompanied by the occasionally weird fetishistic fanservice that undermines its own themes as well, of course (e.g. the breastfeeding scene). It panders to the otaku despite its subject matter of idol deconstruction. Thus, the portrayal falls short, as it neglects to hold up a mirror to the audience. Critiquing real-world issues necessitates genuine depictions, yet the series fails to adequately illustrate the extent of the unsettling obsession that exists among certain individuals in Japan, particularly grown men, towards idols. Furthermore, it never delves deeply into the concerning aspect of a young child willingly becoming an idol without any parental guidance or consent. The (incessant) self-deprecating humour also falls flat for this same reason and the only thing funny is how the Gary Stu protagonist is ironically a reflection of the idol-obsessed creepers that the show tries to dissect whilst seemingly going under its supposedly apprehensive self-deprecation radar.

Speaking of humour, tonal inconsistency is another jarring problem here and disrupts the viewers' emotional engagement and diminishes the impact of key story beats. It reminds me of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and how its whiplash-inducing slapstick humour was indicative of its meekness in committing to intense and/or mature storytelling for the young teenagers it was aimed at. Just replace “slapstick humour” with “otaku humour” and “young teenagers” with “escapist otakus” for Oshi no Ko.

Thanks to the insipid and inimical reincarnation gimmick slapped onto the series, the concept of death becomes nigh-inconsequential. Why wouldn’t it when you get to retain all your knowledge from the previous life whilst miraculously being the son of your beloved idol-now-mom-waifu, only adding to the self-insert escapism element? The MC instantly becomes a child prodigy, surpassing his peers simply due to his accumulated wisdom. In line with the conventions of reincarnation isekai, it actually provides a significant advantage in one's new life and the show seems to agree with me that getting murdered was the best thing to happen to the MC, as the only aspect of rebirth that receives attention is his gratitude for the opportunity. The MC’s contemplation of his past life is only briefly glimpsed in a couple of seconds-long segment when he searches online for information about his vanished former self. The show never delves into the emotional turmoil that arises from losing one's past life and being forced to relive childhood in a different environment. It overlooks the profound yearning for past loved ones and the struggle of accepting that one will never have the chance to interact with them again. It is then poetic when the mother of a girl that lost her life in the real world received death threats from numerous fans for expressing her discomfort with the show basing the harassment incident on the actual events of her daughter; the trivial nature of death in Oshi no Ko means it has no impact narratively nor emotionally.

The reincarnation trope has become genuinely unpalatable at this point and makes me want to throw up, not just because it’s one of the most abused and uninspired concepts ever in anime and its adjacent media and how it’s always associated with slop, but because all of this is accompanied by its normalisation of escapism. It promotes being docile as acceptable, even preferable. Why does a show like Oshi no Ko incorporate this element into its narrative? Because like I said, profitability takes precedence with Oshi no Ko and that obviously hurts it from a narrative standpoint. Addressing real societal issues in Japanese society and potentially unsettling the audience is a risky move from a commercial standpoint. The aim is to cater to their existing knowledge and desires, albeit with slight variations to avoid being overly repetitive. The focus is on providing what they already expect and want, rather than challenging their perspectives or holding up a mirror to the consumers.

Collectively, it doesn’t help that the incohesive narrative is mostly driven by plot contrivances, unconvincing (usually stupid) character actions and poor character drama, relying on your suspension of disbelief. Right off the bat, the very premise (if it weren’t silly enough with the reincarnation gimmick itself) is founded on an unbelievable coincidence of the former 30-year-old doctor Gorou and his 12-year-old love interest Sarina reincarnating as the children of Ai (whom they both so desire). It’s an especially heartfelt miracle when you realise Sarina already died 4 years prior to Gorou. Also, they both realise that they are reincarnated with old memories, yet never once spark enough of a curiosity to ask each other about their previous lives.

The climax of the feature-length premiere is supposed to be Ai’s death, but she undoes its entire moral by the end of it by doubling down on her debilitating idol persona. When Ai is stabbed to death by a stalker, she reaches out to her murderer and talks about how she wants to make him happy. And for some reason, knowing the predatory and soul-sapping nature of the idol industry first-hand and now its utmost extreme consequences, in her last words she expresses her desire for Ruby to be an idol. Ai also comments on how stressful it is to always have an outward portrayal of perfection, yet her idol persona is perfectly aligned with her private life. The story never shows her actually struggling and we are never shown her “bad” side in order to give both her and the narrative depth, you are expected to believe this simply because you are told this. In another aneurysm-inducing scene, the 3-year-old Aqua talks to the director like a grown adult and the director, initially puzzled by the toddler’s ability to construct complex sentences, is immediately convinced when Aqua simply tells him that he learnt it by watching YouTube (lol). And the director sure was convinced because in a later scene, we see him info-dumping to the toddler about the entertainment industry as if he were a fully literate person. Or what about the scene involving the boss’ wife which de-escalates at even more breakneck speeds than it had forcefully escalated when she gets manipulated through “Divine Appearance” by the protagonists and immediately becomes their ally, even offering to become their adoptive mother despite just being threatened with eternal punishment. However, it seems the characters have the power to manipulate their IQ at will. When convenient, they’ll rocket-launch it to the other end of the bell curve, like when Akane starts psycho-analysing “Ai from B Komachi”.

Most of the characters are also unlikeable because apart from being shallow, have edgy character dynamics where they all manipulate each other yet the series wants you to feel bad for them whenever they screw up. Couple this with the fact that the story is drenched in melodrama, which causes them to feel like exaggerated caricatures as opposed to realistic individuals. Not only is Aqua never challenged by the narrative, but instead it rewards him with a harem of underage girls (which he will happily use as tools in a manipulative relationship, of course). Gary Stu exploits the trauma experienced by the girls for self-promotion on social media platforms and they react with cheerful attitudes because Gary Stu’s narrative is Oshi no Ko’s narrative. He uses people left and right no matter who they are, including producers and directors, who reveal classified information to him simply because he really looks like Ai (but they can never actually take it to the logical next step and suspect him of actually being Ai’s child, despite all his giveaways). Aqua is just a naturally great actor I suppose, being a former doctor and whatnot. But it’s OK, the show insists that he’s awkward and doesn’t know how to act and that’s his weakness because it directly tells us as opposed to showing it.

The issues arising from the subplot and side character problem are exacerbated by pacing inconsistencies. Moments that should hold significant weight and importance are hurried through hastily, depriving them of the depth and impact they deserve. Conversely, seemingly insignificant scenes linger on with uncomfortable sluggishness, leading to a sense of monotony that hampers the overall momentum of the story. This issue is further aggravated by frequent interruptions of the action with flashbacks, which provide us with redundant and outdated information.

As for the audiovisuals, they are great. Despite the major theme of this anime however, the OSTs aren’t particularly memorable. But the character models are sharp and the colour palette is vibrant without looking oversaturated. The glossy aesthetic complements the outward impression one would get from idol culture. The otherwise generic overall composition of character designs stands out thanks to the series' trademark eye designs, making the characters look unique with a striking "less is more" approach. I’m a fan. Although they are personally hit-or-miss (characters like Ai and Miyako are visually pleasing, whilst others like the Hoshino siblings look slightly awkward).

It definitely isn't the worst anime to air this season (that was obviously Vinland Saga S2), but Oshi no Ko immensely wastes its ocean of potential to be a focused, sophisticated and insightful social commentary on the entertainment industry as a contemporary anime. The visual direction displays traces of quality, but unfortunately, it is ultimately overshadowed and undermined by the weak thematic execution, shallow characters, cringey dialogue and generally confused execution.

Vinland Saga is the embodiment of anachronism and the self-fulfilment of the mocked utterance "If you kill your enemies, they win."

Imagine yourself being sold into slavery in 11th-century Scandinavia after brute-forcing your way to the Viking conquest of England’s conclusion as a mercenary. At this point you’re well acquainted with the brutish nature of the Dark Ages and the horrors of mankind--ceaseless wars and raids, slavery, the razing of entire villages, violent wars of succession--and in particular the ruthless 'might makes right' warrior culture of the Vikings which one of your loved ones died at the hands of. Now imagine one day in that traumatic ... life of yours you start preaching 21st-century first-world pacifist ideals as a hollowed-out, depressed slave because of a dream. Then give yourself a pat on the back if you think this is an inherently juvenile and asinine concept that first off could never see ideation in such a context, would never see the light of day even if you could conceptualize it, and would never work even if it did see the light of day; because unlike Vinland Saga, you have at least an iota of a grasp on reality. Vinland Saga Season 2 is not only ugly on the outside as an audiovisual experience but also on the inside as a grossly delusional historical fiction that insists upon itself with pretentious moral righteousness, wanting to have its cake and eat it with its faux philosophising whilst attempting to work within the confines of reality. It is a shounen in seinen’s clothing.

What started out as a half-decent historical fiction that read almost like a gritty epic, with clear direction and dynamic characters to match, degenerates into aimless, feeble meandering with sluggish pacing and lethargic characters that reads more like a rant from the author than an actual story in its whiplash of a shift into a slice-of-life. The seeds of failure, however, were already sown from the very beginning of the series when Thorfinn's father spoke the essence of his philosophy on his deathbed "A true warrior has no need for a sword"--like a true 17th century Bushido-ideal samurai based in 11th century Scandinavia who uses "no sword" in the literal sense of the words as opposed to metaphorically. Whilst admirable that he cast aside his penchant for violence and surrendered a prestigious life of fierce warrior-ship in order to settle down with his wife and children and ensure them a peaceful life, the story would immortalise him as an aspirational wise man for orphaning a son and widowing a wife into misery because he surrendered to a death he could've easily avoided by sacrificing his family and himself for his moral code of pacifism. What if Askeladd--who’d already shown not to be trusted--didn’t uphold his promise, or if Bjorn massacred the Icelandic village anyway? Vinland Saga expects you to take Thor’s unconvincing dichotomy in faith as it begins using this fundamentally flawed premise as the foundation of the Slave arc and Thorfinn’s character piece, and the self-defeating polarity of venerating an ideology that just lead to a family’s demise is foreshadowing for the story's downwards spiral from this season onwards. Thorfinn, seeing how well pacifism turned out for his father and reaping its fruits first-hand, suddenly becomes one himself this season.

Whilst anachronism is Vinland Saga’s biggest problem--how it’s flawed on a fundamental level because its thematic execution conflicts with its own established world due to the author projecting his modern-day moral standards onto a story about 11th century Vikings--its inoperative veer into a medieval farming simulator means the themes it wants to convey here aren’t even made palatable on an external, structural level. The Slave arc lacks a defined act structure and feels like a tedious detour from the prologue, with no narrative drive and momentum. There are long stretches of uneventful moments mostly accompanied by Thorfinn and Einar babbling in a struggle to come to grasp the basic concept of ‘self-preservation’ as the directing in all its unsophisticated artistry (or lack thereof) displays severed heads in order to depict the mental state of a man. All the philosophical ramblings with obvious implications mean pacing thrice as slow as the previous arc isn’t compelling when it fails to be the psychological character-driven introspective it pretends to be. What other stories resolve in 3 episodes, Vinland Saga takes 24 to do without a convincing conclusion. There is no reason for over a dozen episodes to be dedicated to the (bizarrely portrayed) mundane slice-of-life of slaves on a farm, it’s the most astroturfed way imaginable to advance Thorfinn’s already deficient pacifist epiphany; especially when such an overarching theme is something as basic as “Slavery is… bad!” You are taught this in elementary school. This could have been done in less than 3 episodes under the dynamism of the prologue, and Thorfinn’s pacifism would have at least been somewhat more believable in a plot with proper happenings gravitating him towards an active MC role instead of being a glorified exposition dump in disguise for what he’s thinking. The series’ soft reset completely bottlenecks the natural progression of the once hot-blooded plot and characters that the series laid out, and thus Farmland Saga struggles to justify its existence. It no longer moves forward in sharp incremental episodes but wallows in nigh-episodic bloat. The character who suffers the most from this stifling shift in direction is of course Thorfinn, who’s treated like a messianic figure for some reason that the narrative never challenges the ideals of. You can now break down his character arc as Sasuke Uchiha —> Jesus Christ. Honestly, Canute's way of peace is far more pragmatic and he should've been the main character after Askeladd's death.

The plot is also cultivated primarily by poor character drama, unintelligent character decisions, accidental happenings and plot devices, which is why aside from most of the cast being lifeless husks, are also unlikeable. Einar is only angry about no longer being a free man and seeing his family members murdered before his eyes in the immediate moment, and he and the 10 unrestrained slaves being transported by boat by the few Danish raiders never attempt to resist or hijack the vessel. Gardar is introduced to serve merely as a tool for the series to once again unsubtlely preach “Here’s why violence is bad” in a scene that diminishes both his and Arnheid’s character after the two had already received incessant flashbacks that could’ve instead made way for more pivotal moments in the story like a certain reunion not being underwhelming. Even the climax of this arc is an illustration of shallow thematic execution; a culmination of the poor character drama and unintelligent character actions, where Thorfinn displays suicidal levels of restraint that should’ve gotten himself killed if not for the plot armour that the narrative places on his idealism, followed by corny dialogue and an unbelievable resolution that assassinates Canute’s character writing.

"I have no enemies." Bravo Uzumaki Thorfinn.