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Watching Princess Tutu in 2019 is an extremely interesting experience. Nowadays hearing that a series is subverting the typical "Magical Girl" trope, immediately brings to mind the scores and scores of shows that in the 2010s decided that the one thing we really needed more of is edgy hyperviolence, and that the main issue to deconstruct and criticize in the genre was its outward positivity. Princess Tutu, while still using the basic mahō shōjo framework to tell a wider and "different" story, goes at it with almost the exact opposite attitude than these modern takes.

The incipit of the story is as simple and archetypical as ... any fairy tale: Prince Mythos lost his heart to seal the evil Raven King away, a valiant Knight is trying to protect him, and a duck, turned by the magic of storytelling into a girl, will help him find the missing pieces of his heart.

It's quaint, but also familiar and fundamentally pleasant. The protagonist (Ahiru, meaning literally "duck") is awkward and fun, and everyone acts extremely dramatically, as you would expect from this kind of story. But from the first episode, there are other elements clearly looming in the shadows of this sweet love triangle. Everything that happens in the show is constantly underlined by the voice of a mysterious author, Drosselmeyer (a name which is a fairly witty Nutcracker reference), who seems to direct and especially enjoy, all the dramatic turns of event that the story takes.

Slowly but surely the series follows the characters as they break from the roles assigned to them by Drosselmeyer, and come into their own people, rebelling against the sadistic turns of the melodrama to finally conquer their little slice of happiness. And the critique here is multi-layered: on one hand, there's the more metaphorical reading, people fighting against the roles assigned to them by society. This is a resonant and universal experience, and it's definitely well portrayed, especially in Rue, the semi-antagonist of the series, who goes through multiple and extremely well-developed character turns.

On the other hand, we could have a slightly more literal reading of the story as a critique of the innate sadism of a certain kind of storytelling. The kind of storytelling that puts its characters through tribulation after tribulation, before climaxing in a great, sad, bit of dramatic irony. The show represents this through the lens of fairy tales, but really, nowadays we can see it everywhere, from "prestige" TV to silly melodramas. The fascination with misery and misunderstanding has never really ceased, and if anything has only increased as the times in which we live have become darker and darker.

Of course, the characters in Princess Tutu are represented as sentient living beings, while the characters in our real-life stories are just fictional constructs. But even then, it does open some interesting questions about what kind of people would enjoy stories that are just continuous dramatic suffering, and it reminds us that, especially when the world gets dark, stories about hope and positivity are extremely important, and that we should not shut down our basic human empathy just because what we're writing, or experiencing, is merely fiction.

It is notable that while exploring these themes Princess Tutu always avoids reveling in the melodrama that it is critiquing. While this makes the twists in the latter half of the series less surprising, as from the beginning we can see the characters actively working against the archetypes that bind them, it also makes the viewing as a whole more pleasant. The show is carried by a refreshing positive mood throughout, with the drama and the tension coming principally from how the archetypical roles assigned to the characters conflict with their human growth.

In some ways, Princess Tutu seems like a show made exactly for me. The core conceit is pleasant and nice, while exploring extremely layered and nuanced themes in a pretty smart way; The whole show is scored with masterfully used classical ballet music, working with the general aesthetic theming; Everyone talks in vague metaphors, making it clear that this is a show you should be thinking hard about… and yet, while really enjoying it, in points I found myself struggling to continue watching the series.

Of course, there are some minor issues, like some episodes that don't really work and the general length of the show feeling a bit too much for what it was trying to do. But the one real problem I had with Princess Tutu is that, sadly, its visuals are so often dull and uninspiring. While this might be partly a problem with the budget, it is vaguely jarring to watch a show in which all other elements work so well together, not being complemented by a more daring cinematography. It's not like there is any visual element that stands out as awful, or any real problem with the animation, but for a show that is so interesting in so many ways, sometimes it is really just… very boring to look at. There are a lot of bust shots of people walking around, a lot of focus on the character's faces, and even during the action or ballet sequences, limited effort is made to match the beauty of the soundtrack with equally beautiful visuals. The ballet scenes, in particular, are the ones in which this stands out the most. The whole show has a big aesthetic focus on the art of ballet (all of the characters live in a school for dancers), but when it comes to actually show the characters dancing, it is always through static shots and the same couple of dance routines, which ultimately fail at representing the beauty of dance through animation. Once again, I understand that this is probably an issue with the budget, and to be fair, in the last three episodes there are some pleasantly eerie visuals, as the climax of the story unfolds, but ultimately I'd be lying if I said that sometimes, while watching the show, this didn't lead me to just start multitasking, as the visuals themselves were not keeping my eyes interested.

That said, my issues with the visual aspect of Princess Tutu don't take away that the series as a whole is an extremely smart take on the genre, presenting some genuinely great writing, and a fiercely positive rhetoric that, aside from being as narratively pleasing as any sad sad melodrama, I also feel is… correct.

I always had a particular affection for Hunter x Hunter, moreso than for other Shonen Jump series. Sure, Dragon Ball had amazingly kinetic fights, Saint Seya had the heart-wrenching melodrama, Fist of The North Star had the over the top violence, all those things were cool, but Hunter x Hunter was just so damn weird that as a kid it was really hard to not love it more than the other anime TV had to offer. One moment the protagonists were facing giant frogs in some test to gain a not particularly well-defined professional licence, then in the other they were fighting in a hi-tech ... fight club trying to unlock the secrets of spiritual forces, and then there was this clown magician that kept murdering everyone in ridiculously gruesome ways, and sub-plots about survivors of genocide seeking revenge, ninjas making sushi, families of assassins, and… I think the point has been made.

What Hunter x Hunter completely mastered, is the art of creating an ever-shifting narrative tapestry, serving as a canvas for an endless number of bizarre but fascinating concepts. This approach is supported by the everything-goes nature of its core conceit: What do the protagonists want? To become “Hunters”; What is a Hunter? Anything we want it to be: Some Hunters fight for justice, other fight for money, some are cooks while other just collect weird things. The series never puts a cap on what a Hunter could be, and yet throughout Hunter x Hunter that titular role never feels particularly vague or incoherent. In fact, there is a thematic through-line that connects all the prominent characters, creating a tonal backbone that helps the series keeping its bizarre nature enclosed into a storytelling that feels natural and comfortable. The best way I could describe this is that all Hunters are… protagonists? Not in terms of placement in the Hunter x Hunter story, of course, the series has four protagonists and tends to stick with them, but on a more conceptual level becoming a Hunter seems to have a significance that goes beyond the fictional benefits the licence implies, and it can more broadly be seen as a direct struggle for agency. Becoming a Hunter, in short, means becoming the protagonist of your own story.

All Hunters are in fact almost built like Dungeons & Dragons characters. They each have a very specific goal, a very broad gimmick, and a heightened capacity for agency when compared to anyone who is not a Hunter. Going even further, the anything-goes nature of Hunters, where there is no tonal nor functional niche they are bound to as a broad concept, reminds me a lot of how tabletop rpg rules need to accommodate for both your edgy friend who wants to play a Drow assassin with a tragic backstory, and me, who will put all her skill points in Profession (Merchant) and just play a happy-go-lucky traveller trying to gather enough money to open up a shop.

To be honest I have no idea if Togashi took any inspiration from tabletop roleplaying when creating the series, but the feel of the final product is very similar to those of long running fantasy rpg campaigns: Weird beasts and places, a story that’s compelling even if it feels like it’s been entirely made up as it goes, explorations of different genre just to “change it up a bit”, characters written with entirely different tones working together and becoming friends, and so on. For how much the genre and tone may shift, Hunter x Hunter always has one element that remains constant, it always feels like a fun adventure.

That is not to say that the tone is always whimsical and light-hearted, in fact the series can get extremely dark when the situation requires it, and this 1999 anime adaptation takes that aspects entirely to the next level. While it just so slightly tones down some of the gruesomeness that can be seen in the manga, it completely makes up for it in terms of mood, and added character development. Not only the animation and sound manage to make some scenes that even in the manga were a bit plain, feel eerie and tense, but the pacing is slightly revised, making the story flow slightly slower, to the benefit of nuance, by adding a number of character-oriented moments that are often very striking and effective.

In fact, one of the greatest strengths of this 1999 adaptation is just how much the authors seem to understand the source material. Any change or addition made to the original story, only serves to enhance it, foreshadowing character dynamics that will appear later in the series, dropping fun hints and details about the world and characters, and generally expanding in a very thoughtful way on Togashi’s work. The fact that the animation is absolutely gorgeous doesn’t hurt either.

So, the story is as weird and good as a canonical Shonen Jump adventure can probably get, the animation looks gorgeous, the soundtrack is atmospheric and understated, the characters are fun, the few changes from the original source actually work very well… what could go wrong? Well, the elephant in the room is that the 1999 anime adaptation of Hunter x Hunter never really… well… ended. The manga is notorious for releasing at a really slow pace, and eventually the series had to stop, after running out of material to adapt. There were a couple of OVA sequels adapting the Greed Island story arc, but that’s where it stops. In 2011 the manga was adapted again, this time covering way much more of the original material, but to be honest I still recommend the 1999 adaptation over the 2011 one, as from what I’ve seen the 2011 adaptation seems to struggle to properly convey the more eerie and tense moments in the story, lacking that pleasantly slow pace of the 1999 series in favour of a more breezy tone that, while slightly more accurate to the source material, doesn’t seem to work quite as well when transposed to the televisual medium. My general suggestion is to watch Hunter x Hunter 1999 until the G.I. Final OVA (the oddly named final part to the Greed Island story arc), and then either read the manga or watch the 2011 adaptation continuing from that point.

Practical suggestions aside, Hunter x Hunter is one of the best adventure shonen ever made, delightful at its most light-hearted, and edge-of-the-seat-tense at its most intense. Sure, it is, in the end, popcorn entertainment, but it’s, quality popcorn, like organic artisanal popcorn with some fancy dressing, caramel probably.

(This is a review for both seasons of the show, as they don’t really work as stand-alone pieces and it wouldn’t be useful to review them as such. That said, no spoilers for either series is in this review, so it is generally safe reading)

Setting up a premise for Concrete Revolutio is almost impossible. The plot threads of this series twist and articulate in almost imperscrutable webs, changing the narrative landscape of the series in almost every episode. As a narrative technique this is a double-edged sword, while on one hand, it makes for an almost mesmerizing viewing experience, as events unfold in front of ... our eyes in unpredictable ways, its borderline nonsensical twists reinforcing the fundamental powerlessness of the protagonists in the face of systems way bigger than them; on the other it can make for a story that is very challenging to follow as a linear plot, given that the viewer is required to pay attention to every single line of dialogue, while at the same time being careful to remember each flash-back and flash-forward, even those originally shown with no context.

To try and sum it up, at its core Concrete Revolutio uses an alternate version of post-war Japan, where both humans and super-human exist, as the backdrop for a story about political allegiance, insecurity and the difficulty of discerning an abstract concept of righteousness (or JUSTICE!) in an era of information overload. Each episode generally follows the “super-human bureau”, an organization which purpose is to both protect super-humans and protect humans from super-humans, dealing with relatively self-contained issues, while flash-backs and flash-forward are used to both expand on the core themes of each episode, and to weave the self-contained events in a wider narrative tapestry.

While the repeated and constant use of the word “JUSTICE!” and the subtly comic book inspired art style of the backgrounds, might make Concrete Revolutio a good fit to be slotted within the rising trend of western-superhero inspired anime, both is theming and aesthetic, when looked at closer, seem to be more deep-rooted in Japan that one might expect. Super-humans in this case, are not simply a transposition of western superhero tropes. The term is instead used as an umbrella for any kind of fantasy fiction trope, from aliens and yokai, to sentai heroes and robots. Aesthetically this makes for a very interesting choice, as the series often plays on contrasting the complex morality of its narrative, with fights that seem borrowed directly from the overactive imagination of a cartoon-loving Japanese kid, with clear stand-ins for iconic fictional figures like Daitan III or Godzilla, facing each other in big monster fights.

This conflict between innocent ideals and the complexities of reality is one of the themes at the core of the series, as idealistic characters end up facing a reality made of hidden motives and overly intricate plots in a manner that can be reminiscent of some weird overlapping of the themes of Metal Gear Solid 2 and the original Gundam.

Unlike Metal Gear Solid 2 though, Concrete Revolutio doesn’t just outline a world where the control of information frames righteousness and the overload of information makes it so that it is basically impossible to discern schemes from truths, but goes one step further, diving deep into the insecurities and paranoia that that environment creates, in a more personal and character-driven way. This approach works quite well, as it avoids the cliché “innocence lost” kind of character arc, which seemed what the series was going for in the first couple of episodes, instead developing in the way more interesting direction of characters having to grapple with their failability, and the failability of the systems they uphold, making for portraits of doubt and paranoia that are quite relatable in the current political climate.

The series uses its episodic nature to also relate to many other themes, from the capitalistic exploitation of minorities, to PTSD, to imperialism. The results of this are generally varying, as some episodes are bound to be better executed than others. Really, the main flaw of Concrete Revolutio, aside from the fact that the plot can sometimes be a bit difficult to follow, is that it seems to try to tackle too many things without then successfully managing to pull them together in one thread, which makes a great part of the series feel a bit scattershot.

While the trick of Concrete Revolution is to willingly confuse the viewer by flashing a multitude of unrelated concepts and plots, in order to replicate the hopeless struggle for truth of its protagonists, some of those plots end up feeling a bit redundant and odd even in that context. While the number of episodes the series got is pretty much perfect (24 episodes divided into 2 seasons), allowing it to drive its points home without overstaying its welcome, it would have been nice if a couple of the most “out there” bits were trimmed, in favour of more exploration of the main characters.

Ultimately, it should be noted that I do not have the historical knowledge to trace any comparison between Concrete Revolutio and the politics of actual post-war Japan, but I can say that the core themes that the series engages with are perfectly relevant and relatable even in the present.

Carried by writing that feels untypically personal for a mainstream anime, Concrete Revolutio is a fittingly harrowing meditation on what it means to try to do good in a world where truth can be easily manipulated and the systems themselves feel broken. While not all of it always work, and the tone can sometimes bounce around a bit too much, it is, in the end, an extremely interesting series that might have flown maybe a bit too much under the radar when it was originally released.

Cool. Good. Watch it.

Heavily inspired by western superheroes, Tiger & Bunny at it’s core is a “buddy cop” series, that follows the superheroing adventures of an odd couple: Kotetsu a.k.a. Tiger, a failing middle age superhero who makes up for his goofiness with his enthusiasm and sense of justice, and Barnaby, a young humourless upstart, who got into superheroing to make light on some mysterious events in his past.

While this is a setup that may ring extremely familiar, what makes the premise of Tiger & Bunny stand out is its setting, which in some ways can bring back to mind One Punch Man. Heroes in this universe are ... not motivated by the goodness of their heart, but are part of a heavily sponsored institution that fights for justice as much as it fights for rating. All the heroes’ deeds are broadcasted live as they compete in a pseudo reality-show, trying to outhero each other while at the same time working on their promotion tours and trying to score sponsorships, like any other celebrity.

Now… I don’t want to be that person, but like, that’s a dystopia, right? Outsourcing public security to an extremely powerful set of cult-of-personality individuals who are literally in the literal hands of corporations? Which in most cases apply way more force than needed endangering more lives than what they save? Like that’s… not good, right? And I know that these are the basic problematic aspects of any superhero settings, but Tiger & Bunny exaggerates them to the point that, realizing that the show doesn’t actually intend to provide any commentary on them feels… odd.

The show sets up this very interesting world, exaggerating and caricaturizing all the problematic aspects of superhero fiction, then creates characters which would naturally come at odds with such system… and then… it just tells a pulpy superhero story which never questions or explore the situation it sets up. And while this approach might be just mildly annoying in a regular superhero story, the fact that Tiger & Bunny is extremely charged with hyper-capitalistic and celebrity-culture imagery, makes its nonchalant approach to its setting slightly more uncomfortable.

Talking about uncomfortableness, there are a couple of odd uncomfortable character things that I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention before going forward:

-One of the heroes is a non-binary, drag queen-ish kind of character. While they are generally characterized flamboyantly but relatively tastefully, it is a running joke in the series that their team-mates are constantly off-put and disgusted by them. Nothing particularly new in term of anime tropes, but your mileage may vary on how much this bothers you.
-The main character’s sort of love interest is a 16-year-old high schooler (Kotetsu is supposed to be in his mid-30s). If on one hand this is depicted as a one-way crush, with Kotetsu being mostly unaware of it, on the other the series is vastly uncritical of such crush, and that character’s ending scene is literally her still trying to get in Kotetsu’s pants. Yeah, uncomfortable.
-This is a pet peeve of mine, but I absolutely hate the “tomboy has to learn to be more feminine” trope. That’s pretty much the arc of one of the minor characters. So yeah, I dislike that, if she doesn’t want to wear dresses, she doesn’t “need” to learn to wear dresses, fuck off.

All these awkward choices regarding some of the characters are quite honestly a shame as, aside from the ones I mentioned above, if there’s one strong aspect in Tiger & Bunny it’s the character work. The main duo of Kotetsu and Barnaby in particular, is extremely pleasant and, while cliché, watching their friendship grow through the show is sweet and entertaining. The story is mainly depicted from Kotetsu’s point of view, and the show does an actually great job in painting a really compelling portrait of an aging doofus who’s just trying to do some good in the world and be seen like less of a failure by his peers. Despite a fair bit of the show’s runtime being generally taken by less-than-stellar fight scenes, there’s more than enough character development to make the show more of a character-driven piece than a straight up action sentai thing. The actual linear plot of the show, on the other hand, is vastly forgettable, as it seems to waste so much plot threads to setting up eventual sequels, that nothing, at the end of the show itself, feels conclusive, neither thematically nor narratively.

Before I end this, it is also worth to give a quick note on the aesthetics, as I actually quite like the art style, and don’t even mind that much the fact that all the superhero costumes are done in 3d (it actually creates a really interesting contrast when you see Kotetsu wearing his old costume which, unlike all the other costumes, is depicted in 2d). The one problem that I have with the visuals of the show is that the blocking and editing now and then feel a bit awkward and clumsy, especially during the fights. While this never gets too bad, a couple of moment throughout the show are definitely eye-roll worthy.

Ultimately, I don’t find Tiger & Bunny a particular stand out, it’s not completely awful (as long as you don’t mind the slightly uncomfortable elements I mentioned before), but at the same times it does not do enough with its premise to actually be interesting or insightful. I don’t know if they’ll eventually get on to making the sequel that the show so clearly is trying to call out for, but as a stand-alone product I found this show mildly entertaining but ultimately lacklustre.

Code Geass' first season was unremarkable but enjoyable, this second season though manages to drag even the few things that I enjoyed about this series into a pit of dullness and melodrama.

Now don't get me wrong, the series was over-the-top and extremely melodramatic even in its first season, but it effectively used those tonal modes to support a structure that all and all worked. Code Geass looked at a wider political conflict while at the same time keeping its parties grounded into humanity through human drama.

This second season completely breaks that structure. Personal plots become wide end-of-the-world matters, wider plots get reduced to personal conflict... ... in short, it tries to bring everything together but crash and burns horrifically in doing so.

There are other problems obviously, like the addition of a huge number of completely uninteresting new characters and the increased focus on mecha action. But all of these are in the end not all that important... what truly drags this second season down is the complete failing in resolving the themes and plot-lines of the first season in any satisfying manner.

The failing is not only in the structure, but in the content itself. All the characterization the protagonist went through ends up amounting to nothing and any political, ideological or even personal statement the series seemed like it was trying to make in the first season, is completely undermined by a bland resolution that calls on the worst cliches of the genre.

Until the last five episodes I would have said that Code Geass would have been a much more interesting series if it was framed from the point of view of literally any other character but the protagonist, but now to be honest I have to wonder if the few interesting enjoyable bits weren't just a fluke.

Insane, bombastic and with a complete disregard for linear storytelling, FL CL is a coming of age story, exploring in particular the sexual confusion tied with the entering the “teen” years.

It is actually quite unusual to see a piece of serial Japanese animation dealing so directly and consistently with one single theme. Despite the visual insanity FL CL is styled with, every element in it is tightly constructed to convey the confusing and messy mind-state of early adolescence. Every episode is a non-stop barrage of punk music, innuendos and not-so-subtle phallic imagery, as the main character gets dragged in a series of non-sensical adventures by ... a series of colourful characters whose insanity stands in direct contrast with his stoicism.

While this consistency and personal touch is extremely pleasant to see in a medium that way too many times seems to over-rely on commercialism and tired tropes, it also ends up being sort of a weakness. Structurally, the choice to distribute this project as a series of six twenty-minute episodes seems not optimal. As the show structures its episodes still with defined narratives that have a self-contained beginning, middle and end, soon the lack of unique direction in which to push the themes starts to make the show feel as if it’s just continuously repeating its one point, not helped by the pretty much flatly constant pace, always firmly stuck at eleven.

While this does obviously does not invalidate the impressively imaginative work behind every aspect of FL CL, it does make those six episodes somewhat tiring, actively going against the feeling of sheer adrenaline that the show tries to convey.

What also doesn’t fully work is how the aforementioned pacing is handled throughout the show. While I get the thematic reason why the whole production is designed as this constantly “hyper” experience, the lack of relief points seem to slowly eat up at the stylistic impactfulness of the whole, partly helped by the combined runtime of about two and a half hours. By the end of it, it is really difficult to be interested in the characters, or anything else in the show for that matter, causing what should be a cool and epic climax to feel just like a relieving whimper.

All and all I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed FL CL though, especially the first couple of episodes are fun, extremely inventive and beautiful to look at, and the whole work feels genuine and personal, which is always great to see in serial Japanese animation. It does feel though that the show would have been a much more structurally effective piece as a movie, without the need to build to repetitive climaxes. Also I’m probably the last person in the world who can relate to that main theme of tumultuous teenage sexuality, so probably that is also a factor in why the show left me slightly colder than I feel it should have.

The Big O is a noire with mechas... sort of.

Set in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi city in which all humans have lost all memories in an unknown event happened 40 years prior, The Big O throws a huge amount of concepts at the wall in its exploration of its main themes of memories and "what makes a person's being and goals".

The series goes from deconstructing old school mecha tropes to moody noire monologues, passing from vague otherworld lovecraftian concepts, religious references and much more. While not all those idea may work, they are always delivered with a confidence and savvy aesthetical means (although the slicker animation ... found in the second season is far less fascinating than the rougher one of the first season) that if nothing else, makes most episodes entertaining and moody-ly hypnotic.

What I find extremely interesting about how Big O’s plots develops, is that, while initially the series seems to be subverting the hopelessness typical of film noire (by literally punching it in the face the with mechas at the end of every episode), by the end even that subversion get turned on its head. As the plot progresses theatrical imagery becomes more and more prevalent; masks under masks get pulled as the series' melodrama gets nihilistically revealed as a self serving play in a series of never-ending existential twist that may bring to mind the storytellers like Grant Morrison (although the end result reads as a lot more pessimistic than anything Morrison ever wrote).

There is truly a lot cramped in the 26 episodes of Big O, but this lot does not always comes as tonally coherent and more often than not is undermined by the obligatory monster-of-the-week mecha fight (especially in the first season)... but you know what... I very much enjoy Big O anyway despite those flaws.

What truly makes the series work is that, despite what it is saying is not always being particularly smart, how it says it is often immensely so. Big O uses the filmic medium perfectly, its imagery is always on point, not only to reflect its themes, but also to fascinate the viewer, pulling them deeper and deeper into the show's spiral of existential questions and kafkian mysteries.

Not all episodes work, but if taken in its entirety Big O is pretty damn good. Obviously one has to have a tolerance for pseudo-phylosophical blabbering and a very slow-burn exploration of its themes, but when one can accept that stuff he'll find in Big O an emotional, media-savvy and extremely personal series to explore.

Set in a fictional version of New York, where humans and bizarre monsters live together in not-quite harmony, Kekkai Sensen is one of the most successful shonen series of late. The show follows the adventures of Leonardo Watch, a kid with the gift of super-powered eyes, as he joins Libra, a quirky team of vigilantes who... protect the city… or stop crime… or something… let’s just say exposition is not this show's best suite.

If there is a thing that can be said about Kekkai Sensen is that it definitely starts with a bang. The first couple of episodes are nonsensical action-packed trips that have most ... of their runtime taken by stylized special attacks sequences. The pace is kept high, the tone is always over the top, and the scenes alternate almost in a nonsequitor fashion.

While this can be overbearing, it sort of works in its own totally insane way. The true problem comes when, after the first handful of episodes, the pace slows down and the storytelling becomes more straightforwardly delivered. The over the top action sequences, the humour and the rest of the nice stuff is still there, but it is just not that unique or impactful when the series starts taking itself more seriously. This is especially clear in the final couple of episodes, that serve to close a "macro plot" that is simply not that interesting or engaging (and to be honest, even a bit hard to fully grasp).

As it may already have transpired, the best thing about Kekkai Sensen are the overall aesthetics. The visual style is vaguely influenced by western comic books (especially in the design of a couple of characters), the animation is obviously hi-budget and the soundtrack is just great, mixing jazz and orchestral music in a way that truly helps giving the show a unique and interesting tone. And while all this stuff is quite nice, If I had to be completely honest I’d add that there’s not really much else that stands out in the show, as what we are watching is still at its core your standard combat shonen fare, except for the fact that it is delivered in a very slick and unique package. This is not all bad though, as the short run of the show (a single 12 episodes season) doesn’t really give time to this package to get old, and helps keeping the focus on the series’ strong aspects.

There's not much else to say about Kekkai Sensen to be honest, it is at its core a product with not many pretenses, if not the one to mindlessly entertain, and it almost succeeds at its goal. The action scenes are fun, the humour not completely awful and the animation flashy and detailed. Sadly the overarching plot is way too weak, making the home stretch a bit of a slug.

Still, not an awful show by any chance… but let’s just say that I’m not really looking forward to a second season.

With the original concept coming from the notorious artist Yoshitoshi Abe (character designer for Serial Experiment Lain, among the other things), Haibane Renmei comes from a pedigree that's both important and uncertain, as Abe, before this, had never worked on an animated series as the central "auteur" (I am totally using that word improperly, and in any other context i would shout at it being used so shallowly... but you get what I mean). What has resulted from this endeavor though is definitely worthwhile. Abe ultimately uses this series to meditate on the themes of sin, suicide, loss and afterlife, and while I have some ... uncertainties on the conclusions at which he arrives, as they can be a bit simplistic and not as complex as the setting he builds around them, they are presented beautifully and tell a story that is in its own rights full of likable characters and eerie mysteries.

Set in a city where humans and Haibane (winged beings, quite similar to angels, with no memory of their "past life") coexist, Haibane Renmei follows the life of one of those Haibane, using it as a pretext to slowly paint a picture of this unique setting.

The series uses the structural trappings taken from "slice of life" anime to present us with something that goes far beyond simple comedy or "moe". While there is no linear plot to speak of, the various stories told in the episodes help the viewer, little by little, to understand the full picture of this inventive afterlife pictured by Abe.

What is wonderful about Haibane Renmei is that, despite being mostly about exploring a setting, it never resorts to the shortcut of heavy-handedness. And I am not talking only about its complex and actually... "human" characters, but also about the direction and cinematography, that take their time and know when to make emotions simmer. This also translates to the very characteristic art-style that despite being quite rough and stylised also has a certain softness to it, which is supported by the muted and "autumnal" colour palette. Additionally, I find quite remarkable how Abe's visual style can smoothly transition from the sweetly melancholic to the dark and creepy in a matter of seconds without ever feeling dissonant. This makes it quite appropriate for this series, especially in the last couple of episodes, which delve in the darkest depth of the setting and characters.

There is a lot to like Haibane Renmei for, especially as it exists in a medium populated by so many series that over explain every single plot point and that rely on very heavy-handed characterization to convey their themes. In this context Haibane Renmei's delicate and intimate approach to storytelling shines even more, making it an extremely recommended watch, despite some uncertainties in how it handles its themes.

I find it incredibly weird that among all the people that suggested me this anime and/or talked about it positively on the internet, there was no one who even mentioned that at its basis Steins Gate is... well, a Harem anime.

Now, I say it's an Harem anime yet you don't see a towering two as my overall rating for it. "How come?" You'll ask, "Isn't this an anime where all female characters exist only to be attracted to the protagonist? And don't all of those characters lack in any kind of agency?"

Well... yes... to both questions... but... hear me out...

Steins Gate is pretty much a ... mix of comedy and sci-fi thriller, in which a delusional "scientist" (or in his words: MADD SCIENTISTU) creates by accident a machine capable of sending texts backwards through time. Learning how to use the machine and the subsequent hi-jinx will lead him to meet a vast of array of trope-y girls (the sweet one, the tsundere, the quiet one, etc.)... and yes, all of them are attracted to him for no reason whatsoever.

The series though, despite following a lot of the harem tropes, seems to at least try to give these girl a wider scope in the thriller-y part of the plot, rather than just using them as waifu fodder. This is at least appreciable, despite the results being far from perfect (near the end the protagonist literally has to make each of the girls fall in love so hard that it puts time back together... lovely).

To be honest what annoys me most about the Harem-like characterization of the cast is that it actively hinders the emotional core of the story. The four "main" characters are in fact quite likable and interact with each other in a very enjoyable way... but then we have to be reminded that one of those characters MUST be a tsundere and everything falls down as the characterization steers towards the trope-y and nonsensical for a couple of minutes. Even worse, any other character they interact with ends up as seriously under-characterized and pretty much reduced to their one liner quirky concept (apart for maybe one of them, and even then it doesn't really turns around until the end).

This is obviously a huge problem as the whole first half of the series is pretty much dedicated to exploring the relationship between the characters. As the episodes go by though, the thriller elements will slowly come in, as the characters realize that changing the past can have enormous and unexpected consequences on the future.

By the 13th episode the series will have pretty much lost any comedic element, leaving us with a bunch of quite enjoyable pulpy-time-travel-schlock. This transition is handled quite well, as by then we will have enough connection with the main characters to actually care about their fate and be engaged in what happens to them as the world around tries to break them. Obviously this later half also has annoyances derived from the harem structure and a couple of stupid plot points, but overall it does its job competently enough.

Mind that I'm not talking about anything particularly mind-blowing or ground-breaking, but I personally am quite happy that it does not try to be so. The plot is laid up in a pretty linear way, it's easy to follow and it mixes well various approach to time-travel to create a story that manages to solve most of its mysteries in pretty straight forward and non-convoluted ways. To be honest, knowing how anime tends to be, I was expecting exactly the opposite, instead I've been pleasantly surprised by Stains Gate's down to earth approach to time travel.

So, yes, Steins Gates did at least manage to make me slightly engaged in the fate of its main characters, at the same time though it made me groan in disapproval and roll my eyes way more than it should be allowed by law. Not unwatchable by any means, in fact there is an ok pulpy sci-fi story hidden in there, but one does have to be able to endure quite a bit of shallow characters and visual novel tropes to actually enjoy it.