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A nice film that I don’t really love, or feel the burning need to re-watch in the future. Its narrative is bogged down by overly familiar plot devices and predictable trajectory, but it works as a populist love story with very accomplished audiovisual execution.

(mild spoilers ahead)

It’s interesting to see how simultaneously similar and different Your Name is to Makoto Shinkai’s previous works. It used many of the same foundational elements, but it is also antithetical to his “relationship (particularly long-distance one) sucks and often doesn’t work” theme. This one is unapologetically romantic, much sweeter and more appealing to the mass. It also has a ... staggering number of fantastical narrative devices: body switch shenanigan, parallel timeline, natural apocalypse, sci-fi phenomenon, and spiritual journey. In retrospect, it’s a minor miracle how Shinkai can pack all of these in relatively lean running time and prevent the movie from turning into a mess, which is a testament to his remarkable adeptness at visual story-telling (honestly, I'd love to see him branch out into other themes and narratives in the future).

This film is obviously pretty, but there is a lot of craft to appreciate beyond just digitized eye candy. Establishing shots are frequently used to highlight the contrast between the two main characters’ hometown, the science and supernatural, and the physical and ethereal realm. There are remarkable details on the real life landscapes brought to the screen, as well as on the interior shots depicting the characters’ private room. The latter is a particularly nifty way to visualize the characters’ personality and interests, even more so in a feature length movie that lacks the time to flesh out the characters. The movie is expertly storyboarded and edited in general, making it easy for the audience to intuitively figure out the multiple timelines and chronological transition in due time (without having to rely on textual marker such as ‘three years later..’).

Perhaps even more so than the visual, the music really makes the movie. They knocked it out of the park with their choice of band, Radwimps, who contributed an album’s worth of songs for the movie. The vocalist’s silky voice, sweet rock melody, and evocative lyric combine for a handful of perfectly timed songs, and instrumental piano-driven tunes also build the mood of many given scenes. Further, many props to the two lead voice actors, each of them tasked to portray two different characters and carry many of the film’s emotional moments, which they did with aplomb.

Thing is, once you strip away the technical and aesthetic elements, it’s just a generic story with fantastical cliches and underdeveloped characters.

I like the early sequence depicting the life of the main female character, but most other things that happen afterward are less interesting, funny, and authentic. Characters end up not being defined and developed enough that I can say I really know, understand, or empathize with them. There’s a certain point where character development completely gives way to the plot, and again, it’s a plot that you’ve probably seen elsewhere in many forms. The ending alone is basically a textbook Korean Drama Ending, while the conflict that leads up to the climax (boy rewind time to save girl he loves) is a popular narrative trend that can be seen in a bunch of anime shows and other narrative media that came out this recent years.

Then again, a familiar story can still be made compelling through powerful sensory execution, and that’s exactly what happened here. I personally don’t rate this film that highly, or even among the best of anime films that recently came out—Anthem of The Heart is thematically stronger and paints teenage relationship in more nuanced and authentic manner, and as pretty as Your Name is, it still doesn’t come close to the transcendental beauty of Tale of Princess Kaguya. However, I also can’t disagree that it’s such a well-presented product that had moved the heart of countless people worldwide, and there’s genuine value in that.

Reading this feels like listening to a talented singer with great voice, who unfortunately keep making the same mistakes and hitting the wrong notes over and over again until the whole performance is kind of ruined.

Er, random musical analogy aside, there's actually a lot that I like from this manga's set-up. For starter, the fact that the the main characters are middle-schoolers/pre-teens, which I don't see very often in manga. It's a great period when kids are mature enough to start exploring complicated feelings and emotion, while still retaining the sense of childhood innocence lacked by high-schoolers. Naoshi Arakawa's art hits similar kind of sweet ... spot by combining the intensity of typical shounen art and sensitivity of shoujo style, creating a signature look that's both powerful and very easy on the eyes. He's very, very, good at paneling and impactful framing, too. Someone once said to me that "a comic/book about musician is kind of useless because you can't hear the music", however, Arakawa's art has enough power and details that the characters absolutely resonate with me during their performance scenes.

I like the main character, too. Arima Kousei is an unusual protagonist for this type of comic, quieter and more perceptive than your typical lead. Most importantly, his mental block makes for an intriguing internal conflict and a very realistic depiction of a real life issue. Physical abuse by a parent figure is a serious thing, and watching a fundamentally good kid struggle to come to terms with it and overcome the guilt he shouldn't even bear is simultaneously gut-wrenching and inspiring. It's also very interesting to see Arima's past as a child prodigy, as well as the bond he formed with his two lifelong rivals.

.....Now, about those "wrong notes".

In addition to music and internal struggle, there's a lot of comedy and romance in April. To be frank: they don't work at all. The comedy first: nowadays I've been bothered a lot by the sense of humor in many shounen/shoujo manga, as it often try to pass off abusive, sexist, and/or problematic behavior as something 'cute' or 'funny', and I also find that issue here. April's main joke is to have Arima routinely abused (physically and emotionally) by the two main female characters, which is not only unfunny, but becomes extra disturbing when you consider the boy's background. Like... I dunno girls, your friend there was severely abused in his childhood, maybe you shouldn't kick his kneecap/throw his head with softball/choke him with recorder/emotionally blackmail him?

It happens too often to be coincidental, which leads me to suspect that Arakawa-sensei really think that brute force and aggressive girls are the best therapy for abuse-induced trauma. I'm not an expert on psychology... but yeah, that doesn't sound right at all. The problem with the comedy ties directly to the romance one, since the aforementioned two girls are also Arima's love interests. It's basically a tiresome love square, with the second boy never becoming significant or memorable enough. I couldn't care less which girl Arima ends up with, as they're both selfish, petulant, and manipulative. Teenagers are never perfect beings, I know, but these girls are just too damn unsympathetic. The occasional melodrama makes it even worse, as some of the characters like to suddenly break out of character and wax some purple prose. Imagine watching kindergarteners have a childish fight, and seconds later quote Shakespeare out of the blue-the effect is as jarring as that.

(there's another girl character that I actually like, just because she's much wiser and more mature than everyone else. Unfortunately, her only role is to be the thankless Best Friend/Adviser character).

The music performance scenes are the biggest strength of the series, but they're not entirely free of problems either. As I've mentioned above, Arakawa's art is more than good enough to convey the emotional state of the musicians during their performance, but he also frequently have a bunch of random people in the audience providing unnecessary amount of corny commentary. "That boy looks nervous!" "Ooh the melody truly comes from her heart!" "I could feel the emotion coming!" Yes, yes, please shut up, Random Audience #3.

In spite of all that, I'm actually happy I got to read this manga and learn about Arakawa. There's such a great deal of artistic talent on display here that I'd definitely still check out his future works--I just hope next time I can truly get behind his characters and narrative.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Anime.

Kagewani probably wouldn't leave much of an impression with its first episode.The animation is very janky with everyone and everything moving awkwardly, and there's nothing in its narrative set-up that suggests it would be something more than overly repetitive vignette of 'random silly people getting offed by monster of the week'. However, it does feel like it ups its execution for every episode afterward, ultimately becoming a net positive experience for fans of this particular sub-genre.

The animation (which could be aptly described as something like motion comic) eventually gets easier on the eyes, along with ... the choreography. There's enough variety of setting, beasts, and the way the characters react and try to outsmart them in each vignette to maintain my interest and keep me on the edge of my seat. I'm also satisfied by the level of storyboarding overall, with most episodes making effective use of its 7-minute runtime. The atmosphere is spot on, the many voice actors sound appropriately tense/frightened/determined, and suspense tends to be nicely built up leading to the climactic money shots—the definitive moments of the series where the camera reveals the featured beast in its full glory and monstrosity.

I may have fallen from my seat a few times while watching. Maybe it’s just the creaky chair, though.

The show's format does make the attempt at overarching plot suffer a bit. Main character Sousuke Banba and his mysterious vibrating scar don't really have anything interesting to do until around the last three episodes or so, and there are times when the end of an episode doesn't transition well to the next one plot-wise. The ending itself is pretty nice, although it also left a few questions hanging in the air and tantalizing tease for a second season (which I'm not sure is coming, but I'm hopeful).

Kagewani's a definite recommendation for anyone with slightest interest in kaijuu/cryptids/mythical monsters, and it's also worth a few episodes' try for others who wouldn't be scared away by its general format and animation style.

One of the most unfortunate cases of adaptation in recent times.

Gangsta lured many fans through the promise of 'maturity' alone: actual adult characters, a gritty crime-infested setting that recall to mind the likes of noir and gangster flicks, and ultraviolence. It certainly started out promising enough, introducing three principal characters with significant amount of baggage (in its 2Male+1Female dynamic and thematic thread of 'escape from the past' linking them, there's a strong whiff of Cowboy Bebop) and establishing a slow burn atmosphere that may disappoint those looking for more 'punch shoot explode' type of series, but hugely appeals to fans of intricate character ... drama that addressed and incorporated heavy themes (e.g. marginalization, drug dependency, sex worker abuse) in fairly respectful manner. Despite its nature, Gangsta never gets too bleak or cynical, as the warm interplay between the characters reflected a considerably sized heart and sentimentality beneath all the grit. Hearing-impaired Nicolas Brown, along with the use of sign language that entailed this detail, also lend a distinct flavor to the set-up by being one of the few representations of disabled protagonist.

Then, it kind of went downhill.

There's always an awkward amalgamation of seinen (setting, main protagonists, ultraviolence, general feel and pace) and shounen (certain supporting characters, power rankings, romanticization of characters to some extent) elements in Gangsta, and while this in itself isn't a bad thing, the more juvenile bits really don't mesh well. At some point, Gangsta is dragged down by haphazardly animated fight scenes, some character design that looked like rejects from Naruto/One Piece rogue gallery, and messily developed conflict. Much worse, Manglobe's internal issues became increasingly apparent and resulted in a fatal miscalculation: the series' pacing and overall composition would only made sense if it's something like 50-episode series instead of something four times shorter. The swelling number of characters, sub-plots, and individual arcs (made worse by oftentimes ineffective exposition, editing, and cross-cutting) is something the show eventually couldn't handle, eventually crashing out with a horribly abrupt non-ending that left loose threads all over the place and basically left the viewers with a feeling that they've watched what amounted to an extended ad of the manga.

It all became more understandable after news about Manglobe's demise came to light, but it's still a darn shame. Credits where it's due, though: Gangsta has its considerable share of graceful isolated moments, and even with all its problems (both inherent and external), it's still a memorable production with potent setting and principal characters. This is an adaptation that screamed out for way more time and resource that its production studio didn't, and sadly, wouldn't ever have.

In many ways, this is a story about the end of childhood.

The manga primarily took place over the course of a summer holiday, when a pair of sixth-graders connected. The boy, a soccer kid raised by single mother, had become disillusioned after his favorite coach is hospitalized with cancer. The girl, an unusual kid conspicuously taller than her classmates, carried with her an unimaginable burden. Yes, there’s eventually the development of that first love, but don’t be mistaken: this is heavy stuff, more nuanced and wistful than what seems to be your standard puppy love scenario. There’s melancholia frequently etched on the pages of ... this manga, as the kids transitioned from innocent life into a cold world full of harsh truths.

Kaori Ozaki paced her story very well within a single volume, and I don’t think it should be any longer or shorter than it is. Her art isn’t really detailed or especially distinct, but still carried significant impact mainly through effective close-ups and powerful visual moments. What’s also important to note is how, despite the eventual subject matter (also a very real issue in society), she didn’t make this just to sadden or depress you. Kamisama ga Uso wo Tsuku may not be a fluffy fairy tale, but it does have joyous and warm moments, as well as depiction of that indescribably wonderful feeling when you start experiencing what it’s like to deeply care for someone. In the end, the closing note is sweet and gentle, emphasizing the hope for a better tomorrow.

Recommended for its atypical bittersweet romance and for bringing up the important fact that there’s only few things sadder than children forced to mature a long way before they’re supposed to.

What can I say, apparently my favorite of Summer 2015 is the two minutes per week of literally just watching a woman eats, drinks, commentates, and lets out what is probably the most contented sigh you’ve ever heard in the history of moving pictures.

You don’t need to be a big foodie or particularly invested in Japanese culinary to be able to appreciate this show. Wakako basically acts as a tour guide into her headspace, delivering simple and instantly relatable monologue revolving around “what I will eat today, and why”. Such is the nature of this one-woman show, the voice actress is probably ... the most important element in it, and the renowned Miyuki Sawashiro didn’t disappoint. Whether she’s gushing about the smell and flavor of karaage or grumbling about a bad day in the office, Sawashiro lend a distinct and calming tone to Wakako’s mental mutterings (framed in such a way that it also felt like a natural conversation with the audience). She also nailed The Sigh, such a signature moment in the show, every single episode felt like it’s building up to that.

There’s not many other stuff, and needless to say, don’t expect much of drama or actual development. What is indeed there should reliably get you in the mood though: the thirty-second opening jingle is catchy and fitting, the depiction of food (of which there’s a delightful variety) is mouth-watering, and even Wakako’s incongruous design should eventually become endearing. When I first read the synopsis, I thought there’s dark undercurrent about alcoholism and depression, but in reality (at least insofar as this adaptation goes) it’s a mostly pleasant watch highlighting the necessary self-indulgence in-between the daily grind of work. There’s a few glimpses of Wakako’s daily life intertwined with her philosophy on food, and while one may wish for more of that, the overall mood I got from her is the blissful savoring of solitude instead of wallowing in loneliness. I can dig that.

I obviously enjoyed Wakako-zake, as would many others—perhaps excepting those who are somehow deeply averse to the act of putting food inside their body. Due to its exceedingly repetitive nature it’s probably not fit to be binged, just like how you wouldn’t gorge yourself with fine food all at once. It’s also preferable not to watch this while hungry and not in a state to be able to grab something quickly!

An old favorite from late 1990s, this is a solid murder-solving ventriloquist show and a particularly memorable representation of its genre.

The show comprised of eight murder cases, presented in separate story arcs that last for 3-4 episodes each. It's very similar structural-wise with Kindaichi Shounen, which also shared a number of familiar whoddunit tropes between them; seemingly impossible scene of crime, multiple victims, tragic and elaborate backstory, etc. While none of the ideas or solutions for the murder themselves is particularly mind-blowing, it’s still plenty engrossing for the most part. The show also subscribes to the fair play rule and very generous with ... clues for audience who wanted to play along…

…a tad too generous, perhaps. The murderers tend to be really easy to figure out, as the show really like to shove visual lead-on and backstory information in your face that makes it painfully obvious, especially in later cases. Heck, a certain case/arc practically spoiled itself through its title alone! While I certainly prefer a predictable but fair mystery over ones that pulled off unfair solutions out of thin air, this could still be a problem—especially when we’ve figured out the murderer way ahead of the curve and had to wait impatiently while the characters are still busy freaking out. Luckily, Ayatsuri Sakon also has plenty of supporting elements that helped mitigate this.

For one, Sakon is a great detective character. Paired up with his ventriloquist puppet/channeling medium/bratty alter ego Ukon, these two provided the most unique Holmes-Watson dynamic I’ve ever seen. Watching Sakon develops and interacts with various recurring characters is very intriguing, as the show gradually reveals more of his personality and background between cases, especially during the second half of the series. Bunraku (the art of Japanese puppetry performance) itself is a prominent theme throughout the story, with a lot of screen time intertwined with Sakon’s development and depicting the culture surrounding it, which lend a distinct flavor and personality beyond your typical “genius boy solves murder” basic set-up.

Speaking of flavor, the show is very effective atmospherically, exuding an air of chilling mysticism in-between development of suspense, poignant character moments, and amusing banter between its main characters. While the animation is probably on par with what you expect from its time, the character models (drawn by the renowned Takeshi Obata) also meshed pretty well with the overall themes. What I really love, however, is the music: the soundtrack is terrific, with an array of background tunes that always solidified the mood, as well as OP + ED combination that not only very fitting, but also featured great vocals and ranked among my all-time favorites.

A thoroughly niche show, Ayatsuri Sakon probably appealed the most to those who are already card-carrying member of murder mystery fan club. But, if you’re interested in Japanese puppetry culture or just like good character drama/tragedy in general, it’s also good enough reason to give this an extended look.

Baccano! has a great reputation among many American fans, who lauded its boundless energy, larger than life characters, and unconventional narrative style. As I eventually watched it, I discovered that Baccano! indeed has all that stuff and could understand why so many people love it. And yet, curiously enough it never ascended beyond a mildly entertaining show for me.

The feature often mentioned first in regards of this show is its non-linear narrative, so let’s address that accordingly. I don’t find it significantly confusing, for one; while certainly disorienting at first, Baccano! is pretty easy to follow once you’ve focused on these key questions: (1) ... what’s up with some of these guys who just can’t die?; (2) what happened to the sad woman’s missing brother?; and (3) what happened on the train journey? Thing is, there is really not much point in the non-linearity either: it’s basically nothing more than a gimmick. There’s only a single instance where it did something interesting with the structure (episode 8, in which a certain pair of characters committed the same schtick in three different timelines and circumstances), but most of the time it simply hopped between all these small chunks of timelines going simultaneously for no good reason. Honestly, I don’t think the show’d lose anything significant by telling its story like a normal person would, and in fact it’d probably help to cut down the momentum kills and a bit of time inevitably needed by the audience to recall what happened last in Plot/Timeline B as the show zipped back to it after some development in Plot/Timeline A and C.

A much bigger problem for me than that: I don’t find the characters nor the dialogue endearing at all. Once I’ve finished it, I didn’t and probably would never get the urge to re-watch Baccano! just to hang out with this bunch of characters, who are either irritating dorks, nonsensical bastards, okay-ish but ultimately forgettable, and psychopaths that the show clearly wanted us to love (it’s sort of Ryohgo Narita’s thing, as I’ve discovered later). I really respected the huge amount of research by the show’s creators to re-create the setting and atmosphere, but as it is I just don’t have much nostalgia for Prohibition-era America, and the authenticity is dented anyway by lines of cliched shonen-esque dialogue (to be fair, I’ve watched the subbed version. As I understand it, the dubbed version is lauded as being remarkably good and more setting-appropriate, so it’s a fair possibility that there’s a tangible difference in dialogue quality and/or delivery).

All that said, I’d still recognize the level of energy and playfulness that made Baccano! so popular and recommend the show to those with certain sensibilities. Fans of 1930s gangster movies might be able to appreciate the setting and atmosphere it’s trying to evoke, and lovers of long-running superhero stories would also find plenty to love, what’s with the cartoonish ultraviolence, people keep coming back from dead, and inconclusive ending. While it doesn’t amount to much in practice, I at least appreciate its explicit willingness to experiment with narrative structure and the notion of main character.

Just not my cup of tea, I guess.

The recommendation baseline for Confession/Kokuhaku is simple: if you're a fan of intense psychological thriller, you'd probably love this.

Award-winning creators Nobuyuki Fukumoto and Kawaguchi Kaiji provided the story and art respectively for this single-volume manga about two long-time friends stranded in the middle of a mountain blizzard. An unsettling sentence on a pitch-black background set the opening tone, and we are whisked straight away into the thick of it. The rest of the story you should really discover by yourself, but suffice to say that fan of Fukumoto's works (most notably popular long-running series Kaiji and Akagi) would be familiar with what's in store: mounting ... psychological tension, dramatic physical stakes, and a pretty bleak view on humanity and morality. I occasionally found Fukumoto 's narrative in Kaiji to be overblown and consequently drag the pace down, even as I deeply enjoy the series as a whole, but there's no such complaint with Confession, which introduced, built up, and wrapped up its conflict at just the length it needs. The manga could be adapted faithfully into 90 minute-ish live action film (something I would really love to see) and not losing anything significant in the process.

There are really only two characters here, the good-looking main character Asai and his crippled friend Ishikura (technically, there is also a third vital character, but she only existed in flashbacks). By the end of the story, we would have known almost everything about these two. The tension, doubt, and constantly changing dynamics between Asai and Ishikura are communicated deftly, interspersed by internal monologues (mostly from Asai's side) that helped building up the atmosphere. If there is a downside to Kawaguchi's art, it is that sometimes the characters' reaction shots are too exaggerated that they ended up looking unintentionally silly, but it succeed at the most important element: nailing the sense of claustrophobia and singular setting in the middle of deathly white storm (and later, a secluded mountain cabin).

Confession doesn’t have a grand concept or ambition, but it’s pretty great at being what it is: a brisk survival story dripping with suspense and paranoia thick enough I feel like I can touch it, and a gripping read all the way to its perfectly executed finale.

Cage of Eden is something you’d get by tossing Lost, Jurassic Park, and Battle Royale into a cheap blender, with heaps of fanservice seasoning on top of it. Reading the manga is kind of similar to devouring greasy junk food; instantly gratifying, but insubstantial and probably left you mostly unfulfilled by the end. That last bit is particularly significant.

The premise is an instant sell for lovers of roller-coaster suspense story: an airplane carrying a high-school class crash landed on a mysterious island in the middle of nowhere. But, that's not all: before long, the main protagonist has to round up his missing friends, ... encounter the island's less than friendly inhabitants in the form of various grotesque beast creatures, deal with various people's psychological breakdowns, and figure out the big mystery behind the exact circumstances of their predicament. It's an inelegant mish-mash of the franchises I've mentioned before, while the fanservice (both the violent and lewd nature) could get hilariously over the top: nothing depicted the manga's tone better than the panel where a big wolf thingy devours someone's crippled body, while on the foreground there's a huge pantyshot of a terrified girl.And yet, I'd be lying if I say Cage of Eden isn't an engrossing read. The psychological/emotional level is mostly skin-deep, but the main cast of characters is likable enough to root for, and Yoshinobu Yamada really excels in stringing a series of cliffhangers one after another and a pile of intriguing mysteries on top of each other...

This, unfortunately, brings us to by far the Cage of Eden's biggest flaw. Normally, I don't like spoiling or even hinting a mystery/suspense series too much, but in this case it felt absolutely imperative for a potential reader to know what they're getting into. So, here goes: Cage of Eden's ending is wildly unsatisfying, left a lot of plot threads unresolved, answered the central mystery in a baffling manner, and in general displayed a shocking lack of long-term planning.Some series could get away or even enhanced by an open and ambiguous ending, but something like CoE really has no business playing "the journey mattered more than the destination" card. A lack of proper resolution is a death knell to a series so reliant on clifhangers, and as it is, most readers would soldier through 21-volume worth of constant build-ups and excessive fanservice hoping for a big pay-off that doesn't exist.

A bit of a shame, really. Cage of Eden is trashy as hell, but most of the times it's a fun and exciting kind of trashy. It deserves a better closing, at the very least, and I could only wonder if perhaps too much energy is spent on drawing all the boobs instead of, you know, making a plot outline.