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Quite frankly, it's worth watching. Not a masterpiece by any means, but the animation is beautiful, specially in the way it transmits motion and movement; on the case of some of the characters, it's a astonishingly unnerving in a way that I haven't really seen before. The pacing is brisk and surprisingly never drags nor gives whiplash, which should always be commended.

There is also a very interesting dynamic between its main characters; despite ignoring the source entirely, and thus being wholly ignorant on how accurate they were portrayed, I would like to see more of them if they are this way. Individually they are quite ... fun, as a duo they are a riot. The dainty princess (Rangiku) with her can-do attitude, unassuming innocence and overall merry disposition also has a secondary layer of darkness that never quite strikes you as edgy nor does it break the first attributes I have described, but rather, reinforces them, because even in her eeriest sequences she still retains that emotion, without ever stepping into a sadistic role. As for the ninja (Yasaburou), he holds the line between comedic and cool by following the characterization of a man who attempts to be suave, yet is constantly dragged into situations that he'd much rather avoid. There is a scene that will probably break him for some people, in regards to what he seems he's about to do, but the punchline is effective and only reinforces the impression that he's playing a role of bravado fitting his circumstances rather than being himself.

That leads us into the main theme, which can be surprisingly profound, if only it were given the time to be properly explored, as well as if it were the main concern of the story. As it is, I suspect it's not. But there is a general idea of "control" that shows throughout the narrative, in particular, that of being in control of other people through various means. Very appropriate for a story about puppets. It all does tie together at the end, as several ideas regarding how a "puppet master" would operate are demonstrated throughout the backstories of its characters and specially in how they fight. That's what, in my opinion, keeps the story from being meaningless fluff.

Nevertheless, there rests the question, "is it fun?". And the answer is yes, this is a fun OVA, with very enjoyable animation, some characters that hint at being intriguing despite the limitations of the format, and overall, really great action that subject to the hand of competent direction and animation. While I am reluctant to refer to it as a hidden gem, I very much enjoyed my time with it, and its mere 39 minutes of footage are worth spending with it.

This movie is paradoxical for a number of reasons, but the most important one was how it merged a sense of calmness with unease. Its extremely slow pace was an open invitation to a very contemplative viewing experience. There is a generous abundance of silent moments in which the characters are able to allow their emotions to sink in, and in turn the viewer is allowed to interpret their thoughts and emotions. Inner monologues are practically non-existent, and the dialogue is enunciated very naturally, more for the benefit of the moment than for the viewers' comprehension. This is not a negative point, far from it. ... Those quiet scenes in which we are able to take in the atmosphere are meant to lead us into thought, into interpretation, and the message is either clear enough or just elusive enough to allow the imposition of certain key emotions of our own.

This intent is at times truncated by the rather rigid animation, and while the character designs are memorable enough, they are not given much leeway in the form of facial expressions, so the conveyance of subtler emotions depends on the viewer's ability to project their own feelings into them to a certain degree. This is a shortcoming that has a significant impact on a movie that is so reliant on emotion rather than plot or character. Despite this, the visuals are for the most part a pleasure to observe, particularly the backgrounds. While not overly intricate, the art's ability to transmit a sense of welcoming warmth, of impending dread or absolute desolation should not go without mention. It is obvious that the director prioritized the environment over the people in it, and despite how harsh my wording may sound, let it be said that at no point do the characters look bad; at worst they are serviceable, and at best a little better than that. The rigidity that dictates their movement and reaction, while not awful, will serve as a deterrent for many people, and they should be made aware of that.

I believe that what should be taken away from the film is its devotion to the establishment of a mood. It is an emotional experience, one that takes you to both beautiful and haunting spaces, that delves in the stark themes of solitude, isolation, hardship and death, as well as, more positively, on the value of a life well spent, endurance against its cruel realities, and even faith. This movie bears a surprisingly blatant religious charge whose effect with undoubtedly vary depending on the viewer. In my case, due to my lack of a potent religious background, I was not as touched as others may have.

In any case, this movie is a study of the beautiful and the grim, a serene and entrancing experience that will demand patience from you, but whose fruit will be extremely fulfilling.

Due to its pacing and this very clear focus on an element that does not appeal to the average viewer as much as character studies or plot driven stories might, I find myself hard pressed to issue an open recommendation. Despite all my commendations I would not qualify this movie as a required viewing for everyone, but if you are ever in the mood for a calming, personal experience, a journey of sorts to undertake (preferably alone), I would advice you to give this movie a chance.

Usagi Drop is best summed up, in a single word, as a sweet show. However, that calcification alone does not do it justice, as it lends itself to both positive and negative connotations. It is a mellow sweetness, the kind that does not overstay its welcome in your tongue or run the risk of giving you diabetes. It is premeditated, carefully constructed sweetness, one of the most delightful slices of life I have ever laid eyes on.

The tone is without a doubt the most notable aspect of this series, what truly makes it work. This is a show about parenthood, and while that subject can ... be used to create fantastic drama, regardless of the rather unusual familiar situation our protagonists are faced with, there is not really not that much drama, or rather melodrama. This depends on your personal experience, of course, but you probably will not cry while watching this series, nor will you laugh out loud, despite the fact that there are some funny moments scattered throughout the show. This is an anime that does not try to milk your emotions; never, at any point, did I feel I was being manipulated.

There is such intelligence at play in regards to every scene, even the ones that one would catalog as the most likely be to big moments. Any moment with Masako, Rin's mother, could easily have been exploited and taken in a a varied number of directions, but they are always kept very subdued and tactful, such is the case of the scene in the cemetery. The show is dotted with moments like this that feel incredibly rewarding to the viewer because their sincerity is so pure and does not impose itself upon them.

I must declare my admiration for the subtlety with which this anime follows and rejects conventions. Daikichi, throughout the series, displays clear attraction towards Yukari, but despite making this fact known to the viewer, there is not much of a follow up to it. Same thing happens with Rin's mother (spoilers!); nothing ever comes out of her besides the fact that she cannot bear to rise Rin as that would heavily class with her life ambition. And I have to applaud that the series does not really cast down judgement on her for that. Daikichi does, but that is his opinion, not the series' itself. (end of spoilers).

The way these events are treated, plus the lack of very significant dramatic developments that go beyond Rin catching a cold that does not pose an actual threat to her life (it does give the pair a scare, but that's rather normal) make of this series a sweet slice of pie out of someone's life. What we see as mundane -going to work, taking your child to school, working extra hours- is shown repeatedly through the series. At first Daikichi has trouble, as anyone adjusting to such a dramatic change would, but once he gets used to it the series moves on to something else. The ending is externally unceremonious, but internally enriching for Daikichi, which does sum up the entire tone of this series.

I believe that this might be a bit of a drawback for some people. At some points I lamented that there was not much more drama, I feared that if the series got too comfortable then I might get bored; however, that never happened. I was entertained and intrigued throughout my entire viewing experience. I consider that some people might see the relative lack of fanfare within the series as a lack of commitment or aversion to taking risks, but I would disagree with that notion.

In any case, this is a perfect series to get comfortable with and let it wash it over you like a cleansing wave: I ended every episode with a large and satisfied grin, and I suspect that will be the case for most people capable of appreciating this show's intentions.

I won't write that much for just ten minutes of an episode. I will just say that the themes explored in this one perfectly resonate with the recurrent ideas I have been able to find throughout this entire series.

The plot of this episode alluded to a Sisyphean struggle, an absurd endeavor whose only purpose is itself, as dull and soul destroying as it is. The characters presented here are entirely content with their role, mainly because they are ignorant of what it entails. They just focus on the small parts they play on the grand scheme of things, with one exception. One boy who wants ... to break free from the cycle, in the same way Kino did: by travelling and seeing all these different struggles from an outsider's perspective. However, he lacks either the courage or the means to do so. Kino, upon further reflection, was able to escape her own loop because of external circumstances that aided her in that, such as meeting another traveler and finding Hermes. In any case, the ending for this episode is just brilliant. The struggle isn't over, and it's inescapable, so the option the boy is offered, being incapable of breaking free, is to find self expression in the pointlessness of his work. If this isn't great commentary on how fighting the mediocrity of human existence isn't usually just trying to stand out while still performing the same duties as everyone else, I don't know what is. I am biased, as I find this concept both fascinating and true, but I just adore it.

The rest of the episode is up to the standards set up by the series in regards to the presentation, the pacing, the sound and the characters: all around very well produced. This story deserved to be told separately because it truly captures the spirit of what I believe Kino no Tabi to be about.

This will be a shorter reviews because of the length of this movie, which I sincerely can hardly refer to as such in full honesty. Clocking at barely 30 minutes, it would be more appropriate to refer to this piece as an extended episode. That should not be taken under any circumstance as a criticism; as episodes go, this would be one of my favorites.

The premise is that of an origin story for Kino. I am confidant when I say that Kino is one of the best characters I've had the pleasure of being introduced to in a long time, and I have concluded after ... some meditation that my appreciation of her does not stem from her mysterious past as much as it does from the role she has adopted within the world she inhabits. So, being able to take a peek into her backstory and seeing a much more different person than the one I came to know over the first series was fascinating. It is still her, but so much softer, much more innocent and, for lack of a better word, feminine. At no point during this movie could I attribute to Kino the androgynous nature that permeates her character, and considering how this short is entirely focused on her personal development, this was a wonderful decision on the part of the writer.

I also have to say that I was not the biggest fan of the earlier part of her backstory. I did enjoy it quite a bit, and probably upon further reflection I will come to understand and like it more, but my first impression was mixed. With this new glance, I must say that I carry with me a much deeper satisfaction.

The pacing benefited from the longer run time. I must praise how easy it was for me to immerse into every scene when they were given just the right amount of time, never going on for too long or too short. It makes me wish that the original series had been granted more 30 minute long episodes; I'm sure they would have benefited from them, even though I believe that they did make great use of their 20 minutes. So, perhaps I could be wrong.

The major theme of finding your own identity is approached from a very interesting angle. Rather than Kino defining herself as her own person, she decides to take on the role on the original Kino, even changing the pronoun she uses to refer to herself. I will not tackle this idea from a gender related position because, while it does have a place, I believe that's not the focus. This is Kino embracing the idea of becoming a traveler, of continuing the journey just where the first Kino left it. After all, she left with her life and his coat the place where he died; it is not far fetched to say that the name of Kino is still being carried across the world, under a different person, but still moving.

Finally, I need to go into spoilers for this whole paragraph. I might have missed something, but I am pretty sure that Master set Kino up to kill that crazy old lady without having to leave the forest. If that is so, then I must applaud that decision because of its ramifications. Kino, upon returning home to her master, does not condemn her actions nor seem to hold any resentment towards her, and she of course realizes she was used. She just accepts it and reaffirms her assertion to become a traveler. At the same time, this point goes to show that she's finally decided on leaving Master, when just a few days before she intended to stay with her forever. I believe, and I say this as someone who has not read the LNs, that her trust has been compromised, and that after considering herself to be ready, she intends to leave for good. This sets up a great precedent for the Kino we met in the series proper: she comes, she sees, she appreciates, and then she leaves. That attitude of bearing little resentment and instead dropping out of the map commences here, which I believe is something to be admired.

I leave a higher score on this movie just because it is an individual piece and as such it is much easier to judge, whereas the whole show had plenty of highs and lows that, in my humble opinion, kept it from being a masterpiece. Not to say that this is, but it is one of the best stories Kino No Tabi had to offer, and one I was entirely happy with. I need to gather a stronger emotional reaction to offer a 10, so it gets the next best thing. Highly recommendable to everyone who liked the original, and if you didn't watch it, this is not that bad a place to start, to be honest.

Kino no Tabi's title led to me err, that I must admit. When I first popped it in I expected to travel along some kid through a curious and at times awe inspiring world, accompanying "him" (yeah, more on that later) on his encounters with all sorts of quirky and humane characters. I honestly had an idea in mind similar to that of Violent Evergarden, but as a show on the road. Boy, how mistaken I was.
The first episode started off rather melancholic, but quite beautiful indeed; more or less what I expected. And then the second episode came and I realized what I was ... in for.
This series gets bleak. Very bleak at times. I can only think of one episode that broke away from this. Is this a point to be raised against the series? Not at all! The show is honest about its tone and it sticks to it. I cannot fault the writing for being coherent, can I?
The problem I have with the writing might be tied to its adherence to that tone. It is so focused on delivering on that sense of tragic beauty, in which it often succeeds, that at points it feels very forced. I am unsure on how to judge this because I am not entirely sure on how it wants to be judged.
For example, the second to last episode makes a statement about war, the loss of life to violence and revenge. Those are all fascinating themes, but in order to get across a sense of bleakness that I would not hesitate to call "misanthropic" the situation presents us with characters acting in a very strange way that, as far as I know, does not have any precedents in any actual historical conflict. It's based on a very crazy idea someone had to put an end to a war. I would be willing to accept that as somewhat plausible, but then it turns out that someone entirely unrelated to them also had the same idea. The show presents this very extreme and honestly heinous solution as the lesser evil and something that "will make sense when you are a parent". I frankly doubt that; I see what they are trying to accomplish, but the logic at play here is very contrived.
Anyway, that's my judgement if we were to treat this show's storytelling as trying to be realistic, but I lean more towards a symbolic interpretation of everything that's depicted in this show, kind of like a string of fairy tales. Whether this suffices to salvage the writing for other people I ignore, but for me it it does. With those goggles (and don't interpret this as "turning your brain off"; that expression is so irritating) you may find yourself getting very invested. This is not a series to take literally, it is meant to induce a certain mood in you and most importantly, to get a theme across. Which one I will explain later, at least, my personal interpretation.

Kino is a very interesting character, but for different reasons that most other characters are. She's not interesting because of her incredible backstory (I liked it alright, but it does seem to come across as excessively tragic) or because of what you ignore about her. She's an extremely honest character. What you see is what you get; she's not here to trick you. Except for her design; I am pretty sure that that was intended to confuse you. That is the only deceptive aspect of her entire persona; other than that I believe you can trust everything she says and does. It is her reaction to the world that truly makes her fascinating. Her companion, Hermes, fulfills his role quite well. I intuit that he was just added to give Kino someone to bounce off when she's not interacting with anyone out in the world, which results in a character that's highly dependent on the protagonist to stand up in the story. I ignore how much of an impact his absence would have had on the show as a whole, but I suspect that it would have detracted part of my enjoyment, so I really don't have much to say on him, either negative nor positive.

The most important element of any show, in my opinion, is its theme. And Kino No Tabi has a central theme that became instantly clear in episode 5. (Spoilers for episode 5). In it we are shown three different men partaking in a job that has kept them busy for most of their lives. And unbeknownst to them, each of them has been undoing the work of the previous one. None of them seem deterred by the dullness of their task, and just keep at it because it will keep their family fed, a family that they have not seen in literal years. For all they know, all their savings could be being thrown into a bottomless hole. But they don't even consider that, as they have work to do.
The pointlessness of their lives, and the questionable reality of their end goal is paralleled with Kino's own endless journey, and she seems to realize that.
That is when I started noticing a similar pattern in every other episode. Every character that stars their own story are prisoners of the absurd, as Albert Camus put it, they are all trapped in a Sisyphean task that, through immense effort, leads them back where they began, or renders all their work pointless. Only upon writing these lines have I been able to draw a parallel between Kino and Meursault, the protagonist of Camus's novel "The Stranger", which does indeed revolve around the idea of the "absurd". The pointlessness of existence, and how in making our own meaning we trap ourselves in these loops that keep us fooled into believing that there will be a satisfying conclusion.
Every character, save Kino and Nimya (from episode 8) fall prey to this trap.
Kino, through a series of unrelated stories, reaches a bit of a realization. It is not a massive display of character progression; she remains static for most of the series. However, she reaffirms her beliefs and shows us how, in being entirely aware of the absurd motions she's a part of, she has reached contentment.
Kino is not a very active character. She's a gunslinger, but not a defender of justice. This is not a series which follows the adventures of a stoic cowboy going from town to town solving problems and partaking in heroics. She's just a traveler, as the series constantly refers her to as. She comes to observe, to understand, and upon three days, regardless of the outcome of her stay, she will be gone. She's eternally wandering, making no effort to change the world, only living in it. I believe this plays into the thematic consistency that relates to the absurd. The pointlessness of these efforts that feed into nothing. The only aspect of the world she has control over, or even the desire to control, is her destination. That is what I believe makes Kino so fascinating. She's an absurdist protagonist, physically passive but emotionally responsive. She retains a pleasant stoicism for most of her journeys, and is never quick to judge others, much less condemn them. There are a few exceptions, such is the case with the episode regarding war to which I have alluded previously. But even then it is very underplayed. However, she is entirely capable of responding emotionally to what happens around her. We see her experiencing fear when she has to fight for her life, we understand her disgust at several of the most heinous acts she encounters, and we see her sadness at the death of people who were truly undeserving of it.
She's emotionally respondent, but still, she never forgets her role as a simple traveler who has no other business in the countries she visits. This character archetype I have never seen before outside of The Stranger, and even then she's a far more affable and humane version of Meursault. That is why she is one of my favorite characters so far in any anime I have watched.

For that reason alone Kino No Tabi will stay close to my heart. I will not deny that every other aspect of the show is nowhere near as impressive for me. The worldbuilding is, as I said, more focused on serving the show's themes than creating a plausible environment, the musical tracks are not particularly memorable and the visuals are, although really charming in their own and frankly pitch perfect for the mood of the show, a little lacking in regards to the animation. This last point should not be interpreted as me throwing shade at the visuals. Besides that odd VCR filter to which I had to get used to with time, the visuals were really appropriate and set the mood perfectly.

It is hard for me to recommend this show because I believe that it plays with very specific sensibilities, and I hardly know anyone I believe could really get into them. However, if anything of what I said sounded interesting, I wholeheartedly recommend it. This is a journey worth joining.

This review is written for a rather personal purpose, that is to say, as a record of my own personal impressions that I can look back to if I ever need to.

My experience with this series has been one of the strangest I've ever had with any anime. I cannot emphasize this enough. "It gets better later" has never applied to me, not really. Or rather, in its memetic form, not the literal one. I have watched plenty of shows that started off good and turned amazing, but few that tested my patience so much before I eventually came to not only enjoy them, but ... also leave with a positive impression.

In simple terms, of 12 episodes, the first 6 were a wash for me. Not terrible, not offensively bad, but I certainly didn't truly enjoy myself that much. I blamed it on several factors. Number one; most of the cast was gimmicky and uninteresting. The main characters were not exactly winning me over, and despite the series's selfawareness in calling Shichika boring, that didn't save him. I found him endearing, but not interesting. Togame was certainly the most interesting of the two. The Maniwa Corps? Talk about generic adversaries. They were such a joke that their entire presence felt like padding. The cusp of this was episode 4, the lowest point of the series for me, when I seriously questioned whether it was worth to keep going. Just watching some henchmen getting wrecked by a little girl. And by God, how much did this show enjoy talking. Episode 2 really showed its colors. Not that I dislike dialogue, but here's where the adaptation part of "anime adaptation" suffered the most. If I had been reading the LN, it would not have been a problem; reading by itself can be very engaging. But when you have a visual medium, and your main characters literally sit down in a desert to go on and on on conversation, it gets a little tiring.

However, upon episode 7, I might have done as much of a 180 as I could. That episode's conflict has me completely invested. For once, the user of a Deviant Blade was interesting, and upon that episode every blade user was incredibly engaging. Episode 10's antagonist was a fascinating character both conceptually as well as in terms of execution. Episode 9 had a wonderful blade user as well, one of the most sympathetic and enjoyable to watch. The inclusion of other characters, such as Hitei or Emozaemon really brought in this serie's A game to the table, and the Maniwa Corps, while still largely gimmicks with the barest of humanity to make them more that cardboard cut outs, brought in the best members during the latter part of the show.

Honestly, the best part of this show, even in its lowers moments, was the dynamic between Shichika and Togame. They were the main reason that kept me interested and forced me to continue watching despite all my issues with the series. Their romance was extremely adorable, but even fascinating, and each individual part, through their interaction with the other, came to evolve and become much, much more nuanced and interesting people as a result. Shichika's final characterization was entirely transformed from his beginnings, and I never found that evolution to be rushed or unrealistic.

Themes are everything to me in a show. If I can't find them, I grow frustrated. This show, however, presented an overarching theme worthy of its presentation, satisfying both to uncover and to witness being set into action. The idea of legacy and free will are touched through this show in almost every episode. Shichika is a tool, a man who was cultivated to be a tool from a young age, but at the end (SPOILERS) he manages to break free from that and become an individual. He is literally a weapon, and his liberation process takes him from being a carrier of his father's legacy, to being the "servant" of Tomage, to finally fighting for himself and only himself, denying the will others, even the woman he loved, tried to impose upon him, be the master of his own destiny. (SPOILER) Togame failed at this; her entire journey, and all the development she gained, even her genuine love for Shichika, were all pawns at the service of fulfilling her father's will, not her own. She was only capable of freeing herself on death's door, not before, and not for long. Emonzaemon is aware and willingly a servant to the last of Hitei, and his servitude is ultimately mocked by her, calling him "boring" to the last. Hitei (MAJOR SPOILER) carries the largest will alien to herself of all, fulfilling a plan centuries, if not millennia, in the making, concocted by an ancestor she never knew. She carries the ultimate legacy, and she does too impede the alteration of history the forger of the swords planned. In the end, she and Shichika are free to pursue their own destinies. Other blade owners such as Meisai fit into this role of being slaves to someone's legacy or will, and break free from it.

This is the most important part of the series for me, and that's why, despite all the flaws, all the boredom and tedium I got out of the literal first half of the series, I ended up being invested and really liking it. Would I recommend it? I'd have trouble doing so; "watch half of it before it gets good" sounds like a ridiculous claim. A true one, but not one I'd use as a selling point. I'm probably the odd one out here, as most people really love this series. For me it's love and "kind of wish I was watching something else". It is hard to say, but in the end I'm happy I watched it, and thankfully this series had a much better end than start. That is, frankly, much preferable to the other way around. Katanagatari, I leave with with an odd taste in my mouth, but ultimately something I will remember fondly.