You know, a bad show, to me, is not simply a matter of the quantity or size of the flaws you can find in it, however it is that you decide to measure such an arbitrary idea, but what kind of flaws it has. I can deal with some plot holes, for once (I mean, even the almighty FMA has 2 big ones at the end) as long as the work can properly contextualize them and not make me care. Members of the cast being inconsistent, though, make it tougher to stomach. I’m also not someone who asks for absolute realism, but simply verisimilitude and
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consistency. Disregard all of those and the work starts to go sour for me. The worst offenses, though, are when the work becomes morally bankrupt, when it asks me to sympathize and side with people who are clearly contemptible. Kakegurui is one of those shows.
Story and Characters
Well come to Hyakkao Academy, the land of insane teenage gambling, horrendous abuses of power and blatantly criminal acts of bodily harm. The school is supposed to be a place for the children of the filthy rich, but most definitely the filthy, where the future elite of Japan is meant to be prepared for a future where they’d lead the business of their families. In this institution, gambling is not simply a pass-time students can engage for their own enjoyment, but a core part of the social-structure of the school. Since the current student council president took over, she instituted a system where students who stack too much debt become “cattle”, considered second class among their classmates and have to remain subservient to the students with more money. Obviously, they also become primary target for bullying. For the viewer who shares that pesky desire to have the elements in the story making sense, this plot point will immediately raise a number of eyebrows, so let’s go bit by bit.
First, how is this system even allowed existing? None of the students here are of legal age, so they should never be allowed to gamble outrageous amounts of money from their parents net worth. Is this a version or Japan where legal restrictions for underage gambling don’t exist? If that’s the case, what about the restrictions for underage driving, drinking and sex? None of these are even mentioned, so I suppose the gambling premise is entirely based on “don’t think about it, bro”. Now, you might at this point throw at me my previous statement about realism vs. verisimilitude, but let make it clear: that goes for simple stuff, like my tsunderes being a bit more violent than what the real world would tolerate or children being a bit more mature than normal, it doesn’t apply for a universe where an entire legal system seems to operate backwards.
Following the fact that the existence of this scenario is a contradiction in itself, why would anyone enroll their children in a school like this one? These students are supposed to be future business leaders, people with enormous responsibilities in their hands, so a cast system that allows them to be bullied, humiliated and sometimes even physically harmed by their classmates goes completely opposite to the goal their education is supposed to provide, that of shaping them into capable, resolute and strong-willed adults. I’m not sure any parent would allow their children to frequent a place like this if such practices are not only allowed, but incentivized. Then there’s the money issue: the students make their bets with money from their families, which means that they are stocking up on massive debts their parents will have to pay. At long-term, this set up would make the cost of such education extremely expensive, making this school a lot more trouble than is worth. The list of absurdities doesn’t stop there, but let’s get to know the cast before we can dive head first into more nonsense!
Jabami Yumeko is the main culprit of the story. She generally keeps a playful and polite demeanor, but shifts to intense obsession when it’s time to gamble. I’m pretty sure she is supposed to be a sociopath! Not a realistic depiction of a sociopath, though, but what fiction believes a sociopath to be like. Truth be told, Yumeko is no more than a Mary Sue. It may seem like a stretch to claim this, since general misconception is that this kind of character is also supposed to be virtuous (or at least framed as such by the narrative, even when the audience can clearly see that the opposite is truth), but she does have the basic traits of a Mary Sue: she clearly has complete disregard for how much money she bets, the supply of money or her disposal is not even hinted at in the anime, so in how much danger she’s is unclear, at no point displays any signs of being the least bit worried, constantly displaying the face of someone who’s always on top, even though her behavior is so needlessly risky. Ironically, at one point she even drops this gem: “To realize one’s ambitions, risks must be taken”. Funny, since she seems to have no ambition besides having a gambling playground for herself.
Besides being nice to the already shitty-characters from the main cast and keeping a constant sweety-kitty-diabetes façade when not gambling, is there any reason for Yumeko to be seem as an actual force for good in this narrative? When it comes to motivations and general personality, she’s no less psychotic, abusive, deceiving, manipulative and sadistic than the members of the student council (or any other scumbag in this school), so what are the guaranties that once her main source of entertainment in the school is gone, or at least significantly diminished, she’ll bring any positive change to the status quo? And even if she does, do any of these characters actually deserve it? They’re all simplistic, poorly realized figures and most often just despicable people, despite the laughable attempts from the show on making them sympathetic by introducing last minute backstory.
Suzui Ryouta, the closest friend to Yumeko, is an inconsistent pussy. He strangely seems to have no problem talking to multiple attractive girls at school, but from the first moment Yumeko enters the scene, becomes strangely flustered when first interacting with her. Besides that, his role is essentially to tell the audience how risky her situation is when she makes a crazy bet and to be mesmerized when she pulls off a victory out of some strategy the audience has no knowledge off.
Momobami Kirari is the student council president, or Seitokaichou in Japanese, responsible for the creation of the cast system in place in Hyakkao Academy. She sees her fellow schoolmates as pets she can control and play with, as well as manipulate to gain power, although the goals she wants to achieve with such power are not explained in the story. Through an outrageous ass-pull in episode 11 (not a Deus ex Machina, stop using this term wrong) she proves to also be willing to backstab her own fellow student council members, which leads me to question how would anyone ever trust and help this bitch again, when she can betray them on a whim.
Other members of the student council that matter are:
- Ikishima Midari, who’s completely insane for life-threatening thrills and CARRIES A GUN TO THE SCHOOL! Seriously, how is this ever allowed? Why would anyone accept be put into a school that looks more like an asylum for demented shitbags?
- Yomozuki Runa, the loli dressed in a bunny hoodie who helps Seitokaichou on her schemes, gleefully plotting against the other members;
- Kaede Manyuda, the treasurer of the student council, very ambitious and arrogant, quick to dismiss the students he doesn’t consider worthy enough of battling him. By all accounts, he’s the least awful creature in the cast;
- Sumeragi Itsuki, another crazy bitch, who likes to collect nails from other students, which she rips off whenever they lose to her in gamble;
So, besides allowing its students to be bullied and made into servants, potentially putting them in emotional distress that can severely affect their learning, this schools also allows bodily harm to be inflicted on them, as well as bets that involve possible death. Not crazy enough for you? The institution is also equipped with special sealed rooms, for when Ikishima feels the need to “arrest other students” for her games. Let me spell this out again: this crazy cunt KIDNAPS people and locks them into special cells where she can bet on deadly games with them, using a FIREARM! Do you see why this setting is so hard to buy into?
As soon as Yumeko arrives at the institution, her one and only goal is to gamble with every strong opponent she can find, climbing the ladder until she can get the opportunity to challenge Seitokaichou, so the bulk of the narrative is focused on the multiple games she engages in with other members, occasionally crushing their spirit by revealing the manner they cheat, before beating them. Not always successful, though, as early on she manages to lose a serious bet, although it’s implied that was only possible through cheating, and becomes a pet. Interestingly enough, as soon as a previously successful character suddenly becomes a pet, it seems their winning record is instantly forgotten by the scumbag token extras, who immediately shift to bully mode. If you’re like me and has near zero suspension of disbelief for stories where everyone is an asshole, you’ll have a hard time with this one.
As Yumeko uses her status as a pet to attract and challenge other student council members, she finally reaches the top members, challenging first Manyuda and ultimately the president. This is the point where the anime turns simply from rage-inducing bad to morally bankrupt filth! Through a seriously logically questionable trick played with the help of Sumeragi, who has an old grudge with Manyuda, they lead him into betting such a high amount of money, that the loss of that game would put him indefinitely subservient to the student council president and destroy his influence in the council, as well as potentially compromising his future and relationship with his father. Yes, it’s that serious! So, of course, he loses and the defeat is followed by Yumeko and Sumeragi gleefully explaining how they manage to reach their ridiculously contrived victory, with the final blow being delivered by the president, by telling him “You’re fired”, making him snap and pass out. In the follow up, Yumeko and Sumeragi discuss what just happens and the way their dialogue is frame tries to imply they had the moral high-ground, somehow. That last bit, to me, is the most infuriating part.
Seriously, what exactly was Manyuda’s crime that was apparently so much more despicable in relation to the other students? Seitokaichou introduced a cast system that locks students into the role of cattle, where they remain subservient and bullied by other students, Sumeragi, who now we’re supposed to root for, used to rip people’s nails off, which basically amounts to torture, and Midari makes bets with people’s lives; Am I really supposed to believe that this guy is so much more deserving of having his livelihood and future sadistically crushed because he underestimates his fellow students? When did arrogance become the worst of crimes? I call this idea bullshit and this anime a hypocritical piece of toxic waste.
By the way, the ending is a complete cop-out too.
Presentation
So, do you like variety of facial expression for your characters to help flesh them out as credible, or at least likeable human beings? Tough luck, baby, here it’s ahegao up the ass for you!
For those not aware of what I mean, “ahegao” is the term in Japanese for the orgasm face, which despite the definition is not relegated exclusively for porn, but also used in comedic fashion to convey when the character goes through emotional ecstasy. You might have noticed by now that Kakegurui is quite the fan of quantity over quality, and it’ll sure run that trope into the ground whenever it’s needed to convey that the fuck-sticks it passes for humans in the story are going through anything that might be classified as excitement. IT’L ALL THE BLOODY TIME! Whenever someone pull off some maneuver to outsmart or cheat their opponent in a gamble or even when it’s simply to explain the “genius” plan, they will pull off insane orgasm faces and laugh like maniacs. Of course, the biggest offender here has to be Yumeko, because someone up in Valhalla hates me.
When it’s not ahegao, it’s contorted maniacal expressions every antagonist feels the need to break into when they feel superior and about to win on a game, or when they try to be threatening. It’s quite laughable, actually, when bunny-loli tries to pull one of these off, as if the show seriously thinks she is in any way the slightest bit scary. Seriously, any of the girls in the main cast can break her in half and this attempt from the show is just pathetic! Characters seem to break into such expressions almost to the same degree as the ahegao, as if to painfully remind you to not ever expect anyone here to have personality any deeper than a spit puddle, and that subtlety died and we buried its corpse when we allowed this disgrace to be written, published and animated. Along with the stupid story, the presentation here is another big problem for the anime, due exactly to the habits just mentioned.
Is the voice acting of any help? Not really, although not as egregious as the horrendous faces, no character really demands anything more than two different modes of acting, so it’s nothing to write home either.
Personal Ramblings
It genuinely felt like this anime was specifically crafted with the perfect combination of traits that can make my blood boil. From the sickening emphasis on the disgusting faces, to Yumeko’s insufferable “kind and innocent girl” demeanor, along with the inconsistent, impossible to buy into setting and the fact everyone here is a douchebag, this whole show was intensively infuriating to watch.
I swear, I’m not really that hard of a person to please, and it’s not like I can’t enjoy a story where characters are also morally bankrupt or just outright evil. I mean, two of my favorites are Shiki and Black Lagoon, and I don’t think you can say the main characters in those shows are safely good people, what I ask is simply that the show frames that exactly as it is, not as if the horrible people on screen are supposed to be likeable or admired in any way. I am fascinated and genuinely find likability in well written morally ambiguous or evil characters, and I admire characters who display the responsibility and strength of morals I wish I had in my personality, but when the moral center of your story is a selfish, manipulative sociopath who can’t be trusted to have anyone’s well-being in mind, I say you got your priorities kind of backwards!
Now, if you excuse me, I’ll look for something trashy to wash away this memory.
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Oct 4, 2017 Not Recommended
You know, a bad show, to me, is not simply a matter of the quantity or size of the flaws you can find in it, however it is that you decide to measure such an arbitrary idea, but what kind of flaws it has. I can deal with some plot holes, for once (I mean, even the almighty FMA has 2 big ones at the end) as long as the work can properly contextualize them and not make me care. Members of the cast being inconsistent, though, make it tougher to stomach. I’m also not someone who asks for absolute realism, but simply verisimilitude and
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Reviewer’s Rating: 2
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Sep 19, 2017
Re:Creators
(Anime)
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Recommended
I believe I mentioned this before, but I find it consistently harder to write in praise of an anime than to bash it, to the point that the only manner in which I could be satisfied on doing so, would be to break down each episode while highlighting why I believe certain scenes or bits of dialogue are so great and important to the big picture. As you can imagine, the highest I value something, the harder it feels to explain, so let it be known right from the start: I do see Re:Creators in VERY high regard!
Story and Characters To begin to understand why the ... show works so well, the first good hint would be the original writer, Rei Hiroe, who wrote the story that led to the anime. For those unfortunate enough to not know who Hiroe is, he’s the author of the Black Lagoon manga and the responsible for the dynamic between Rock and Revy, two of the finest characters crafted in the media. In Black Lagoon, he demonstrated his strength at crafting witty and meaningful character studies, while in Re:C he displays, with some aid from Ei Aoki (director of Fate/Zero), his efficiency at developing cohesive, effective and strong plot. Some comparisons I’ve seen be made about the nature of Re:C in regards to other anime vary from a knock-off of Fate/Zero’s concept, for those who see the combination of colorful fighters of multiple origins as somehow related to F/Z and nothing else, to a shallow piece of propaganda fellating the Japanese government and military, in the same fashion as GATE, for people who are too obtuse to notice the obvious differences and like to make asinine comparisons (you know who you are!). The closest I’ve seen to actually hit the mark was to Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, since both works are commentaries on the media they’re a part of. This comparison doesn’t adequately prepare you to get into Re:C, but it is a better assessment of the nature of the show. While Haruhi is purely a dissection (or you might even say a “deconstruction”, if you can believe it) of the tropes that are to this day prevalent in anime, that made itself brilliant by twisting the role of the protagonist and titular character, along with the ones that personify those tropes, Re:C is a commentary on our relationship with fiction, both from the perspective of the creators as well as the audience, and it makes itself brilliant by making what would be natural parts of that relation into integral, tangible elements of the plot. I’ll discuss the perspective a bit more when we get to the characters, but for now let’s talk about the strength of the narrative Besides characters, which I consider to be the most important thing in a story, something I also find of great importance when analyzing is how well structured is the narrative. That takes into consideration things like pacing, as in the rate in which the story progresses or new information is introduced, the role different characters play and how meaningful they are on that role and, specially, when things happen for a reason. Re:Creators shines in that regard, among other reasons, because it wastes almost no time. Every episode in this show is there for a reason (yes, even the hot-spring episode) and nearly EVERY scene has something to help bring out new information, develop the numerous figures of the cast or reinforce what is already known, character and narrative-wise, through a new method or situation. Want an example? The events of episodes 9 and 10, for once, might seem to have no effect in the rest of the plot, at first glance, but looking closely you might notice that they made for the perfect set-up for the main characters to confirm a plot point that would prove itself vital for their future plans, as well as kick into motion Aliceteria’s character-arc. Take this episode out of the equation and you’ll have that plan turn into a complete ass-pull and have Aliceteria’s change of heart be completely unwarranted. If you are reading this review, I’d assume you already know the premise of Re:C, so I’ll not waste much time explaining it. So, a feeble mind would predict the main villains of a story with such premise to be those who were already villains in their original stories, but this is one of the instances where this anime subverts expectations in the best way: the real villain of the story is a character that originally had no purpose, while the one who was originally a villain turns into a wild card. The series tackles motivations and work ethics of the different artists, ranging from those who do that simply to make a living to those who see on the act of crafting a story as their way of expressing themselves in the way that is the most fulfilling. That said, let’s talk about the characters, starting with the main antagonist Altair, or the Princess in Military Uniform, was an original character, created based on one of a preexisting fictional game called Eternal Wars Megalosphere and is noted from the beginning to be connected to Souta, one of the main characters, and Setsuna, a former friend of Souta who, and I don’t think I’m spoiling much about the first minute of the show, committed suicide a few months earlier. Do you want another example of how finelly crafted is the structure in this anime? Since not much is shown from Setsuna’s perspective prior to her suicide, some viewers might get frustrated at first, feeling that they missed on something important, but that turns out to be a necessary decision, given what we see from her on episode 21, in which her avatar plays a decisive role in the conclusion. This decision is a great factor into making the experience of this episode as meaningful and effective as it is, besides the excellent writing, of course. Altair was a character created without a set purpose, carrying only the emotions of her creator, to whom she feels a strong connection with. Therefore, she takes upon herself the task of avenging her creator, who she feels was wronged by the world. That lack of a reason to exist, coupled with the angst carried by the one she held the dearest led her to see the real world as a cruel story, and what better way to enact her revenge than by causing the world to implode on itself? Mizushino Souta, a highschool-age student, is part of the main cast, but regards himself and is treated by the narrative more as a narrator-type figure. He’s an aspiring illustrator who’s a bit shy about his art and holds a guilt complex in regards to Setsuna’s death, who he believes to have betrayed. He considers himself partially culpable for her suicide, for not coming to her aid when it was needed, and that feeling of guilt is what motivates him to take action during the second half of the story. The conclusion to his is arc is not one of overcoming the guilt, but of learning to shoulder the pain of his mistake and making something positive out of it, through his creations. Episode 21 (seriously, folks, it’s a very important episode) is where that is displayed at full force and he ultimately comes to peace with Setsuna. Souta also provides insight about the perspective of people who enjoy and avidly consume fiction, like on his argument with Aliceteria, where he tells her how characters like her are loved because they motivate people with an ideal, a model of how to act, to be honest and never let themselves be brought down by hardship. He also comments later how the passion for anime, manga and other media gives the viewer the opportunity to see the world through someone else’s perspective Starting the hoster of creations with the heroes, we have Selesia, a character from the light novel and anime series Elemental Symphony of Vogelchevalier, an Escaflowne looking, magitech inspired Mecha that I like imagining to be set in phantasy 1920s. In her world, she was the partner of the main male lead, Charon, fighting against the forces of the Avalon Brigade, which gave her a resolute, quick to action personality, but still calm when among friends. In an interaction with Souta, she advises him to take his time and not try to rush his artistic development, because that way he would be able to grow appropriately along with his work. That interaction reflects the experience she had fighting in her universe, experience that also makes for amusing banter between her and her creator, Takashi Matsubara. Initially, she complains to him about why he didn’t make her stronger, not understanding his perspective as the writer. Their relation eventually becomes mildly like father and daughter, and Matsubara comes to be protective of her, cherishing her as his creation. He comments, during a conversation, how writing is his way of telling the world that he has been there, of leaving a mark on other people. He comes off as an experienced writer, who understands what he can and cannot do in order to keep the audience invested on his work. Next in the roster is Meteora, also known as Best Girl, originally a NPC from the RPG game AVALKEN of Reminisce, where she takes the role of a powerful mage and the responsible for the library at the End of the World, right before the final boss. This is a very important detail about her, because it influences the way Meteora relates to the real world and other creations, as well as fiction. She states early on that her world is deeply detailed and fleshed out, having even fiction of its own, therefore she has better appreciation and understanding than other creations have about art, its mechanics and the influence it has over people. Interestingly, in one of the early episodes, she and Selesia contemplate a graffiti, and while Selesia has an amazed look on her face, Meteora displays a colder, more analytical expression, denoting the difference in impact for both of them. Lacking social interaction but being remarkably intelligent, she doesn’t have an easy time expressing her emotions properly, which she tries to mitigate by pulling off horrible puns. We see more of that restrained playful soul in episode 13, the greatest recap episode in the history of anime. A nice, detail about her character is how initially her speech is notoriously long-winded, but over time it’s possible to notice it becoming less prolix and more personable. Her knowledge of fiction allows her to read effectively into other characters and she quickly learns to understand what goes through the heart and mind of people from the real world, making her the one to give Souta the emotional support he needs to come clean about his mistakes and deal with the guilt that torments him. She is definitely the one the boy feels the most confortable to talk to, and their friendly chemistry persists throughout the series. Hell, I ship them! Since she becomes the brain of the group, fact amusingly displayed when nobody knows what to do and quickly turn to look at her, Meteora also develops a professional friendship with Kikuchihara, the government official responsible for dealing with the situation of the fictional characters. Both recognize and grow to respect each other as the one from both groups who knows best how to deal with the situation Mirokuji Yuuya is every anti-hero/rival voiced by Nobuhiko Okamoto: impetuous, self-reliant, prideful, hedonistic and occasionally clever. Funny enough, his rival from his original story, Sho, is himself voiced by Okamoto, which might be the most amazingly subtle reference ever. Both come from Yatoji Ryou’s manga Lockout Ward Underground: Dark Night, with Yuuya being laid-back and uninterested in doing what others tell him, hanging out with the heroes simply for the fun of fighting the villains, while Sho is obsessed with killing Yuuya, whom he believes to be his sister and best friend’s killer. Perhaps mirroring Yuuya’s personality, Yatoji is arrogant and a bit difficult to deal with, but softens up fast due to their dire situation. He and Matsubara worked together in the past and don’t go very well with each other, but it’s hinted that Matsubara appreciates Yatoji’s work and still worries about him being able to continue, as shown when Yuuya decides to beat up his own creator. By now we had the light novel female warrior lead, the RPG kuudere, the adolescent power phantasy and fujoshi bait, it’s time for our Gundam boy. Yes, Kanoya is the “Gundam” representative; he went looking for some young poon-tang on his first week in the real world, so he cannot possibly be the Shinji look-alike. His author, Nakanogane-san, wrote him to be someone who gets easily defensive, but also quite heated-up in battle, but as soon as he comes to the real world, the kid decides he doesn’t want to fight anymore. What? Did you expect the Gundam kid to not have his “get in the robot” moment? Silly you! Kanoya’s small but charming character arc involves him realizing that the obligations he shoulders in his original world are not arbitrary, but something that only he as the protagonist can fulfill, which gives the kid newfound sense of responsibility. His conversation with Souta in episode 11, while superficially seeming like just a fine motivational moment, also highlights an important part of creating effective stories: that characters need to have a purpose to guide their development and actions, creating a sound narrative. Nakanogane-san doesn’t have trouble finding his place, though. The creators here don’t just sit around while their characters fight to save the world: they take initiative on putting together the pieces of Altair’s past and goals to find the best course of action. Lastly, there’s Hikayu, the visual novel heroin created by Nishio Ohnishi (har har!), who’s a pervert. A good-hearted one, don’t be too harsh on the guy, he means well. Since her game of origin was primarily an eroge, Hykayu is disheartened to learn how exposed she’s to the world, which makes for some of the best comedic moments on the show, like when she does her badass entry during the heat of the combat, shouts her passionate entry lines, while feverishly blushing in shame of her outfit. Surprisingly, or maybe not, her game is not exclusively made of fap material and contains emotional moments that she carries over to her experience in the real world. Could this be a tangential commentary about the tastes of the stereotypically perverted otaku, who can accept a story having blatant smut as well as heartstring-pulling narrative? Perhaps a jab at how we feel the need to justify liking questionable material with the argument that it has a serious and emotionally gripping story? Who knows, but it does add more substance and weight to the notion that the writers and staff do know the ins, outs and running trends of the media they are representing in the anime, instead of simply crafting half-assed references. Chikujouin Magane (creator not important) is the one creation to have been a villain in her story, but like Yuuya, prefers to act by herself and have fun with people’s suffering. She takes quite the liking or the real world and for Souta’s emotional struggle, taking him and the creations as her main source of enjoyment for the first half of the show. She doesn’t seem to like Meteora very much, though, since the girl doesn’t fall easily for Magane’s mind tricks. On Altair’s side, the first ones to appear are Aliceteria, the idealistic knight, and Mamika, the unlucky Magical Girl. Mamika comes from a show for kids, where the morality is black & white, villains are recognizable at first glance, good people who don’t immediately side with the heroin just need to be beaten into agreement and violence is bloodless, so for her it’s a shock to learn that in this new reality her powers might inflict serious harm on people. Kind-hearted and naïve, she doesn’t so much change her nature as the series goes on, but instead learns about the complexities of the new world and takes different methods to bring end to conflict. Aliceteria, in the other hand, comes from an equally black & white reality, but one severely more violent, bloody and harsh than that of Mamika. Aliceteria is stubbornly idealistic, to a point where the anime makes it clear she fooled herself into believing the real world is really a home of sadistic, cynical gods, who created her reality just to amuse themselves with the suffering of the people in it, so it’s her duty to force her god, Takarada-san, to fix her world and free it from evil. Takarada himself looks like a young, emergent author who still hasn’t mastered the creation of layered and complex characters, relying on the archetypical noble hero to focus his work on. It’s partially through Souta’s intervention and passionate speech about why figures like Aliceteria are beloved on his world that she begins to realize how disconnected she is from the true motivations of her fans. Mamika and Aliceteria form a strong bond in their short time together, despite the difference in mentality. For once, when going to recruit a new creation, Mamika hopes it’s a good person, while Alice hopes it’s someone trustworthy and strong (to their dismay it’s neither), and it’s the similarity in values, despite the difference in priority, coupled with the courage and backbone that warms the knight to the young magical girl. These two characters, among others, help put into perspective one of the brilliant ideas applied on Re:Creators: the anime purposefully built one-dimensional characters into the narrative because in context they come from stories that aren’t as well fleshed out or detailed. Selesia and Meteora, were created by authors who intricately crafted their personalities, worldviews or universe, so when they come to the real world they act more human, but also can better understand the morality of their creators, while Mamika and Alice were shallow characters, created to be good and righteous, but lacking understanding of complex notions of right and wrong, so they become easy prey for a villain who can spout ideas that sound good and presents easy solutions to their problem. That shallowness is not the final state for them either, but a jumping point from where they develop into layered and intelligent individuals capable of understanding the new reality and taking the best decisions based on their own morals. Lastly, because going further would be spoiler, there’s Blitz Talker, the hard-boiled supporting character from the manga Code-Babylon, written and drawn by Suruga Shunma. Blitz clearly knows of Altair’s true intentions from the beginning, but stays with her because of his desire to protect her, whom he sees as weaker than she lets transpire. Suruga is an intriguing character because she keeps a low profile most of the time, not showing much of her personality and mindset. Most of the time she comes off as an aloof workaholic, constantly drawing, barely taking her eyes off the paper, only to look woefully uninterested when she did, but in her confrontation with her Blitz, she delivers plenty of substance. She makes for a great parallel to Setsuna. The girl had a sudden boost in notoriety, but didn’t have the time to grow up and learn to deal with the hate that comes with the spotlight and that negativity was too much for her young mind to deal with. Suruga, on the other hand, had to struggle with competition and criticism, suffered with the negativity, finally reaching enough success to be able to sustain herself with her art. Many viewers might think her outlook on fiction or her creative process is cynical, but it’s better to describe it as pragmatic and she shows to genuinely love and take pride on her work. On episode 03 the anime introduces the concept around which the entire plot revolves: audience acceptance. They first note that the characters to appear in the real world tend to be those who had the largest impact among the public, so after Matsubara fails to alter the description of Selesia, it becomes obvious that the creators can’t simply change their characters as they go along. They soon began to theorize that what can really affect their status is if they manage to get enough of the general public to empathize with the changes made to them, idea that is solidly proven in the events of episode 10. It’s based on that concept that the heroes elaborate their plan to defeat Altair, by crafting a story that would be able to gather acceptance from the public to the point where they are able to bait and trap Altair on the Bird Cage, a scenario located within the real and fictional words, where they’d be able to defeat her for good, with the approval of the public. Fun fact: Bird Cage is a reference to Altair’s name coming from the Arab word for bird. Looking at the contextual level it’s not hard to see that the idea of acceptance is a method of commenting on the common fictional elements that have the most success with the public on our own universe, as well as the difficulties faced by writers of popular works, who need to keep constantly in mind what the audience wants from them. Fiction is manipulation by nature, it’s designed to engage the audience in an illusion where the artist pulls the necessary strings to make us feel or think a certain way in relation to what happens to the characters. Bad fiction happens when the illusion is not convincing enough or when the trick is so poorly conveyed that we can see the strings in the background, and no character in Re:C exposes that better than Altair herself in the last few episodes. Not only are her powers the ability to manipulate the fabric of fiction (reason why she can’t simply nuke the world into oblivion), but her speech is constantly centered on the idea of what exactly pleases the audience and gets their acceptance. Her originally neutral condition also contributes to that concept: Altair is a character without cannon beyond the original powers given to her by her creator, so there’s little restraint for other artists to invent new abilities for her, as those new powers can just as easily get approval from the wider audience, contributing to her continuous growth in power and number of tricks up her sleeve. Part of me wonders if this is not a paradoxical trick the writer crafts with the audience. As the viewer, we are conditioned to expect the main villain to not go down until the very last moment, and only against a worthy hero that can pull off the strongest emotional reaction from the audience, therefore, the writers are fooling us into expecting Altair to pull off something new to aid her in battle, knowing that the nature of her powers allows for that. Presentation Across the multitude of designs presented the anime displays excellence in keeping verisimilitude and coherence. In fact, that might be the most valuable quality of the work’s presentation, beyond the technical aspects, which are not shabby by any means: the directing is excellent, packed with clever transitions and enthralling shot composition (special shout out to that one camera movement in episode 06 that tells us with no effort that Magane just gets it). Every element of character design was conceived in a way that the experienced anime fan could safely note what they make reference to: Selesia and Charon dress in the angular and colorful style that has become a trend among light novel characters, clearly made to please cosplayers instead of having practical combat utility; Meteora sports the distinguishable attire of an RPG mage from works like the Tales franchise, cuz the design is clearly too confortable to be Final Fantasy; Kanoya uses the slick, futuristic uniform of robot pilots across the Mecha genre. All of this is important because it says something about the characters, not only from what kind of story they come from, but also their personalities. Even when in civilian outfits, the choice of clothing tells something about them: Meteora dresses with cute and childlike attire, because she’s a petit woman and is tired of constantly using a thick uniform, while Selesia’s adorably modest choices help flesh out her personality as reserved, possibly chaste. The same care extends to all the fictional websites, products that appear on the show as well as the different magic symbols used by the characters. The designers commented in interviews how there was an entire creative process behind the elaboration of the multiple logos, focused on creating an internally consistent scenario. There’s no “Gaagle” search engine or “PZP” console in this story, all the fictional products, social medias or websites presented here were designed to look and sound believable to the extent that one could easily think that Mauchly, Piclive or Songbird are a real thing, or that SONY might actually create a console called Play Portal, which I imagine would be a portable with meager first and third-party support. The sound department continues the effort in verisimilitude by featuring performances consistent with the universe and genre each character comes from. I’ve already mentioned Nobuhiko Okamoto previously, brilliantly cast as Sho, not just because of the irony but also because he’s can skillfully express Sho’s devoted and naïve mannerisms. Other clever choices are Suzumura Kenichi as Yuuya, fitting since this voice actor has experience with characters who speak in mischievous tone, and Minase Inoue, as Meteora, who previously worked as Rem in Re:Zero and is capable of pulling off a character who speaks stoically without falling into blandness. Now, voice actors are a fun subject and all, but that’s not even the most exciting aspect of how Re:Creators sounds. That would be Sawano Hiroyuki’s amazing soundtrack, tailor made for this anime. Permeated with intense electronic beat and bombastic energy, these songs are never misplaced; the same track can mark the intensity of action sequences but also play to great effect in comedic beats, adding more points to the directorial work. Just look at Selesia trying her new power or Hikayu doing her badass entry and you’ll know what I mean. The lyrics, off course, in songs like Here I Am (Mamika’s theme), God of ink, Layers, Brave the Ocean and World Etude are perfect mirrors for the characters inner thoughts and their goals. Personal Ramblings I first thought about talking about this in the story breakdown, but I decided to leave it for this section, as it is the main reason Meteora became my favorite character in the show and why I began to see this anime with higher appreciation. In episode 04, after learning about the passing of her creator, Meteora decides to play her game on its entirety. Later, she confesses her main grievance from when she came to the real world and talked about her experience with her own game: it was fun, and that’s all that matters, because all she needed was to known if her creator loved her world the same way she did. This moment was particularly relatable to me because it reminds me of a book I’ve read long ago, The Hour of the Star, where the narrator talks about the protagonist of his story, and about how he loved her. Later is that I came to realize that such love was not a traditional sentiment, but the love of the artist for his creation. Meteora’s confession displays the inverse route, from creation to the artist, but to me it emulates the sentiment of the audience, the feeling of experiencing a work that had love put into it, where the people involved were truly invested in created something that would resonate with the player, the reader or the viewer. Re:Creators is an anime I never knew I wanted, but now that I have it I wonder if there’ll ever be something else like it. The way multiple aspects of artistic creation are talked about and analyzed, the portrayal of the audience and Souta’s mindset as a passionate consumer were all relatable and the show frequently would surprise me by doing something I already expected, but in a way that I did not imagine. Rei Hiroe’s writing tends to do that. I sure hope there’s more originated from it, off course. The many works mentioned in the story might as well spawn new franchises in the future, now that they had the perfect introduction. I sure would love to see what they could make out of Elemental Symphony of Vogelchevalier, since those who saw Re:C already know of some spoilers for it, or how they could conceive Mamika’s anime; perhaps as something initially childish-looking that progressively gets more serious and multifaceted. I know Mecha is in life-support nowadays, but it would be nice to see Infinite Divine Machine Mono Magia get its own anime too. The possibilities are not endless, but they sure are plentiful and can be fruitful as long as those works continue to have comparable quality of writing, directing and care put into them as much as it was put in Re:Creators.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Jan 5, 2017
Denki-gai no Honya-san
(Anime)
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Not Recommended
Expectations sure are a bitch! Keep them too broad and you’re bound to, eventually, be met with disappointment, but we still need them to prepare ourselves whenever we began experiencing a work from the media we love. When I first began watching Denki-gai no Honya-san, I had just come out of watching the first two seasons of “Working!!”, which remains one of my all-time favorite anime, so I wanted to experience another slice-of-life focused on the day-to-day of people at work. Being the workplace in question a manga store and the people in question passionate Otaku, people like me, I was in for a treat.
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It just wasn’t the treat I was expecting.
Story and Characters Credit where credit is due, the show actually makes a nice move by utilizing two distinct characters in order to develop the setting: Umio, a very passionate otaku with no restraint to displaying his affection for the hobby, is the new employee, which gives the anime the proper excuse to explain the situation of the cast; Hiotan, in the other hand, is the one character who has no experience with the one true religion of Otakudom, so it’s in relation to her that the show gets to comment about anime, manga and other aspects of otaku culture. Not a bad setup, now allow me to explain why it fails: remember how Genshiken, for example, actually spent the first episode giving away the characters main traits and easing the protagonists in to then begin developing the conflict? Denki-gai is not very good on that. At all. Right off the bat it’s easy to see that the series is more worried about setting the scenario than the characters, which is ironic since once the conflicts begin, this setting seems more like a backdrop to bring the cast together than something actually meaningful to the plot. The running motif of the story here are the different couples who form amidst the various gags, so before progressing, let’s do the presentations: Sensei is an aspiring manga artist and the only one to seems to have what is immediately recognizable as an actual character trait, rather than a simple quirk, that of being slovenly and easily stressed. As early as the first episode, she and Umio start developing romantic feelings for each other, although it displays the most barebones chemistry possible: nice guy helps desperate girl. I realize this might sound hypocritical, given some of my favorites, so I’ll address it properly in a moment. A running gag involving Sensei is her lack of “Girl Power”, and that happens to be one that eats away a lot of her “development”, since frequently all of the traits the show applies to her end up invariably playing to this same gag. Next is the growing bond between Hiotan, whose quirk seems to be excessive and trivial panicking, and Kantoku (director in Japanese), nicknamed this way because he apparently likes to film his employees in awkward moments. Truth be told, Kantoku seems to be the only one with the semblance of a diverse personality: he’s a pranker, but not a mean spirited one, which doesn’t clash with his behavior when he needs to act as a leader or be responsible with his employees. The way the romance between this couple springs into existence, though, is piss-poor: at one point in the story, Hiotan clings to Kantoku, initially for comedic purposes, and then begins to take his kind acts, in contrast to his usual behavior, as the result of romantic feelings, up until the show decides to treat their clichéd, innocuous and barely eventful interactions as the marks of a “soon to be”, “maybe someday” couple. Please, craft bigger quotation marks in your mind, these ones are not enough. One relationship that seems to be already going on is the one about the backfired moe bullet Fu-girl, who is obsessed with anything related to zombies and has a mad crush on Sommelier, a tall and silent man who acquired the nickname by doing manga recommendations to the clients. It’s obvious that the feelings here are mutual, but none of them really progress in their efforts because both don’t know how to properly communicate that. As I write this I noticed that none of my notes over the series actually addressed their relationship, and that is because, frankly, all that can be said I just summarized right above. The two are easily the most vapid creatures in the whole anime and their interaction is a very clear example of the general problems plaguing the show. Couples out of the way, now we can get to the lone candleholders on the block: firstly, Kameko is a girl who enjoys taking pictures with her camera (get it? CAMEra, Ko = child, get it?), who is revealed later on to have a crush on Kantoku, but got left behind for trying to keep low profile for too long. Why should the audience be invested in the late-to-show-up emotional grievance of the second most insipid block of ink in the show is not properly conveyed, but hey, at least she’s not Fu-girl, whose brick-like presence and complete lack of meaningful personality drags the scene down from painfully average to just painful. Did I come off as bitter? Anyway, next in line is Tsumorin, a former employee at the shop and now a cosplay celebrity/ doujinshi author who ALSO had a crush on Kantoku. Is there any kind of projection going on here? I hope you like attempts of empathy for a character that has barely been established and offers no reason for the audience to care about, cuz this show sure is going to try! Possibly the only real reason she exists in the story is to make the idea of a romance between Hiotan and Kantoku a little more credible. Ok, let’s dial back a bit and address the issue of Umio and Sensei, Some might find a bit hypocritical of me to criticize their dynamic, since some of my favorites (Toradora!, Working!!) have similar ones going on between their main characters. The point of my criticism, though, is not the set up itself, but the way it’s handled, which is why I don’t think it displays good chemistry between the two, so please hold on while I attempt to expose my perspective. Building good chemistry between love interests in a story involves crafting this idea that both play off of each other’s personalities and visibly add something to the other part. That can’t work properly if it happens to be a one-way street, as it is here: Umio acts kindly, helping Sensei with her manga, she pretends to bring out some semblance of confidence, backpedals and the situation devolves into a gag. Being fair, as a plot point, the relationship between Umio and Sensei actually does something to Umio’s character, by portraying him as a very supportive person, even if in a simplistic way. That, however, never goes beyond the “nice guy/awkward girl” archetypes they are set into and the show doesn’t properly convey how they could really work as a couple. Truth be told, the notion that they are meant to be in a romance is kept simply by the shackles of the genre, which we’re all knowledgeable of already, and by how heavy-handed the anime is about it. You might have guessed already what the main problem here is: the underdeveloped cast. At the top of the characterization pyramid is Kantoku, but even then he only reaches the Decent mark, while the rest of the crew is stuck between completely vacuous outside of a simple quirk, or one-dimensional. You may argue that the way they act within the jokes lay out more details in a subtle manner, but I think the point of having effectively subtle characterization is by getting the various traits about a character to connect in the big picture (personality), so when these traits fail to connect in a cohesive manner is that the attempts of characterization become meaningless. The point I’m trying to get with this diatribe is that the characterization in Denki-gai is disjointed and the show’s attempts at it end up creating a shallow picture instead. To make matters worse, the romantic progression is close to nonexistent. Romances get introduced, for sure, but no proper confessions are made and whenever any kind of development (or at least what the anime passes for it) is attempted, the show seems to take a step further, just to step back and shove its head in the ground, dreadfully afraid of making the status quo any less stale. As expected, these problems spread over to the humor too. Now, I have no issue whatsoever with establishing comedy based on character quirks; “Working!!” has about 80% of its comedy crafted in the same principle, Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge drives this home in every chance it can get away with (which is every time) and I have no complaints with the way these shows do it. The matter of the issue here, besides the lack of additional layers to the characters to help endear them to the audience and make their reactions comically effective, is the application. In both of the shows mentioned, the quirk in which the jokes were based on was a constant, but the punchline was handled with a twist in every opportunity, either a difference in timing or the situation in which it was applied, while the same doesn’t come out much in Denki-gai, and knowing each character’s main trait makes the joke quite predictable already. This anime tried a lot, in many forms of humor, but none of them displayed the cleverness of writing required to actually pull it off and set the timing to the appropriate moments. Presentation This is not turning out pretty. At least the presentation section comes out shorter than the Story one in my reviews. So, how else does this anime drops the ball? Well, we have the character designs, for once. It’s not that uncommon for different characters to have similar faces in the same anime, but it’s uncanny how the models in Denki-gai seem to have identical facial structures, with only hair and accessories used to differentiate them. Add to that a sickeningly excessive use of blushing and I wouldn’t exactly call this an example of variety in visual presentation. I’m not kidding when I say that with a third of the show left to watch I was having pavlovian style reactions of disgust every time I saw someone’s face go red, Fu-girl herself I couldn’t even look at because of how much her character became an eyesore with her face that screamed “I’m about to start crying desperately” in every frame. When it comes to the voice acting, the show is surprisingly tame for a gag manga, although this might also be an effect of how stretched out are the skits, and the acting doesn’t reach very emphatic degrees for the genre. To be fair, this particular approach might resonate better to the comedic preferences of other viewers than they resonate with mine, so it isn’t really a point I can use to detract from the anime. That same trait also spills over to moments that are more dedicated to “characterization, although perhaps with the exception of Matsuoka Yoshitsugu as Kantoku, and thank goodness for at least his presence in this anime. Fun fact: Hiotan shares the same seiyuu, Takamori Natsumi, as Miyano, from Tanaka-kun. She doesn’t have the friendly demeanor or the dedicated personality Miyano displays, though. Personal Ramblings Just comes to show how connecting to the work in the first place helps a lot when you watch it, it’s a lot harder to find enjoyment when the first episodes failed so hard to get you involved. Sometimes I wonder how much more I’d speak highly or poorly of any work if it managed to be something I had special attachment to, or no attachment at all. Were my disposition towards a show like Steins;Gate, for example, superior to indifferent, would I be among the people shouting endless praise to it and stamping a 10/10 in my review? There were some instances, sadly not many, of my re-watch of Denki-gai when I looked at what had just played out in a scene and thought to myself “This normally would be something I’d laugh at, if my disposition weren’t so low”. That doesn’t mean I don’t stand by everything I said here or in my other analysis, but it really makes me ponder how much our initial attachment or to a work can makes us more prone to catching up faster to the qualities or shortcomings it might exhibit. Tell me if you never thought about it: watching a show you already like in the first episodes makes you see more than other viewers do when getting to specific moments that might come off as meaningless to others, while if you dislike the show from the beginning the multiple little grievances stack up to form a larger problem, making the whole picture seem uglier, to the point where its qualities end up becoming mute. I didn’t expect to turn out this bitter when I first decided to write this, but among my set of opinions that have changed over the years, this one didn’t turn up for the better.
Reviewer’s Rating: 4
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Oct 10, 2016
Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu
(Anime)
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Recommended
For a while, some of the people who I usually talk to on MAL have come to claim that I am some kind of contrarian, due to my refusal to shout unconditional praise for some works considered to be “classics” in the same fashion a few circles do. I don’t feel that is true, though, when taking into account my general stance (just look at my other reviews!), it just so happens that I have a very particular way of judging any given work, hipster glasses off. For that same reason, when I began watching Legend of the Galactic Heroes, or Ginga Eyiuu Densetsu, I
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tried to free myself from any external preconception, so that by the end only my own judgment would be as fair a result as possible, coming only from my own perspective and no one else’s. Currently, the anime sits at 8th place among the highest scored titles on MAL, with an average score of 9,10, so you might imagine that analyzing it is kind of a big deal. It also has a somewhat small but quite dedicated audience that takes it in very high regard, besides being a generally respected work. This is the point where the petulant me raises his voice among the crowd to say “Well, I have some disagreements to make here!”
Just for fun, I’m going to call this one GED, because fuck me if I had to write any of the acronyms the series has whenever I need to refer to it! Story and Characters Oh boy, this one is a beast! As you might imagine, properly tackling a show like GED is not necessarily an easy task if you plan on doing it in depth. Based on a series of novels by Yoshiki Tanaka, this OVA series has a total run time of 110 episodes, the storyline is divided into two main fronts, a fair share of it is dedicated to politics and it’s fucking packed with dialogue! For the sake of my sanity (I still have it, don’t worry!), this will be another review where I’ll tackle the different aspects of the series separately, in order to voice praises and criticisms in an easily digestible way. By the way: due to its scope and the themes the series tackles, both positives and negatives are heightened in the big picture, so if it seems that I’m being overly harsh to poor GED, keep in mind that there are equally strong positives to help mitigate the issues I’m about to discuss, and people have talked to death about such positives, so allow me to be somewhat picky this time. The best way to begin this will be to address who are the main forces at play in the story, so let’s get to them. Two major forces are at war in the universe of GED: the Free Planets Alliance and the Galactic Empire, represented by Yang Wenli and Reinhard von Lohengram, respectively, the two characters to receive major focus from the narrative. The two develop a rivalry between themselves and the presence of one in the battlefield is bound to call for the other. Starting with the Alliance, Yang Wenli is the tosser who hates coffee. I’m sorry, there’s more to his character, but I still can’t forgive him for that posh attitude. Yang is laid-back, somewhat lazy, quite introspective and has a strong devotion to the concept of democracy. This last trait is highly emphasized by the show, although it tends to get quite overbearing at some points, making his character come off as very preachy. In these instances it seems like he is more of a mouth-piece of the concept itself, besides spouting general observations about history. Humm, I wonder if this is what people who hate Urobuchi mean when they criticize his characters. Close to Yang is Julian Minci, a teenager who lives under Yang’s tutelage after losing his parents, who shows to be highly curious and with far more active and responsible demeanor than Yang. Julian is mostly relegated to secondary role, but around episode 82, when the rivalry between Yang and Reinhard is resolved, he becomes the focus on the Alliance’s side. Episode 83, by the way, has a particularly great character moment between Julian and Frederica Greenhill, Yang’s wife, who decides to take political responsibilities after spending most of her screen-time being just an add-on to the plot. For the most part, it seems that his arc is going to be that of becoming just a doppelganger of Yang (seriously, he begins to speak and monologue just like Yang, at some points), up until near the end of the series, when he takes action to be an agent of change in the manner Yang is not capable of. Also close to Yang is Schenkopp, captain of the Knights of the Rose, an elite group of soldiers feared in combat. Having been born in the Empire, but exiled from there still in his childhood, Schenkopp works as the practical balance to Yang’s over-analytical personality and often offers him questions in regard to the validity of his believes. On the Empire side there is Reinhard, a young, authoritative and slightly idealistic but still down to earth rising military prodigy (on the anime’s standards, that is!) who decides to make a name during the war in order to garner power and influence so he can one day save his sister, who was taken as a concubine by the emperor, as well as overthrow the current ruling force of the Galactic Empire and reform the rules of the galaxy. It’s visible that some of the influence held by Reinhard at the beginning comes from the preference the emperor has for his sister, but that is also supported by his talent and effectiveness in combat. Reinhard hates the nobles and the current ruling dynasty, the Goldenbaum, and his desire to be the next regent puts a target on his back, as he gains the contempt from the nobles. The emperor could not care less, funny enough, the guy just wants to enjoy life and wait for death. The closest friend of Reinhard is Siegfried Kircheis (I’m starting to get a slight bias against Germanic names!), a man who has been in love with Reinhard’s sister, Annerose, and vows to help him conquer the galaxy. Kircheis is extremely loyal to his friend and serves as his moral compass at the start of the series. His influence decreases as the series goes on, though, and that brings the most visible changes in Reinhard’s character, making him more ambitious and prideful. In case you are wondering, this is a positive. Next in the line of influence is Oberstein. He is cunning, stoic, an absolutely deceiving bastard full of dubious intent who constantly challenges the viewer into pondering what his real intentions are. In other words, Oberstein is amazing, the best character in the show, every moment he’s on screen is a better moment and if you disagree you are just flat out wrong. I’m not biased. Due to his methods of getting results, he is compared to a medicine that creates strong adverse effects and garners a great amount of distrust and hatred from other officials. Bunch of ungrateful fucks! His character offers a great contrast to that of Reinhard. While Reinhard is good natured at heart and charismatic, he is still ambitious for glory and cherishes the pride of battle, which are heroic traits on the surface, but still result in the deaths of millions. Oberstein, in the other hands, is not afraid of being hated, seen as the bad guy and of using methods that are considered cowardly or dishonorable, but still minimize damage and the loss of lives. From Reinhard’s admirals, the most notable ones are Mittenmeyer and Reuental, two close friends who share their leader’s disdain for the nobility. While Mittenmeyer is optimistic, strongly tied to family and somewhat naïve with politics, Reuental is dreary, cynical and ambitious, which makes some of their interactions almost comedic in the way that Reuental reads into other characters in a manner Mittenmeyer is oblivious of. The remaining officials under Reinhard’s command are very straight-forward and simplistic characters, but they have just the necessary amount of depth for the position they occupy within the narrative, which is not detrimental to the series. Let’s be honest, folks, would it really be important to have Bittenfeld or Lennenkamp be fleshed out any more? On the side of the Alliance, though, I’ll not forgive Poplan, that guy needed a major overhaul in writing. He appears frequently enough to be a relevant character, yet 90% of his dialogue is of the same breed: remind the audience he’s a womanizer, crack a joke about him being a womanizer and occasionally take a cheap jab at Attenborough. This is not quirky, this is one-dimensional! The biggest drawback for GED in the character department is the antagonists. While the bulk of the conflict revolves around Yang and Reinhard’s rivalry, a sizeable portion of conflict also comes from specific antagonistic forces acting against each one specifically, or against both at once, like Rubinsky and the Cult of Terra. The problem with such antagonists, though, is that, except for Rubinsky, they are poorly written, one-dimensional, severely deficient on the brain-department and meet their end in anticlimactic fashion. Now, you may ask why I’m being critical of the antagonists being lackluster while cutting some slack for Reinhard’s officials, so let me clarify: conflict is what moves a narrative; therefore if the agents who bring forth that conflict are subpar it damages the work as a result, as it implies that not enough thought was put into that aspect of the story. The biggest offenders, when it comes to characterization at least, are the corrupt politicians from the Alliance who decide to go against Yang. Most of them are not even characters themselves, just plot devices that appear in the narrative in order to bring trouble upon Yang, having absolutely no logical reason to do so. They have nothing to gain from throwing the guy under the bus, ESPECIALLY once the war has ended, and no justifiable reason to go against the one who was their biggest asset during the war. For all intents and purposes, they are shooting themselves in the foot out of pure irrational spite. The ones who get some semblance of characterization are shown to be pathetically easy to manipulate buffoons with no vision of the danger they willingly throw themselves into because of unfounded fears. On this side of the galaxy there is also the Order of the Patriotic Knights, who are big offenders of logic. This order is a known terrorist group, under the control of Truniht, the Alliance’s major asshole, and yet they are somehow seen making public speeches and attack dissident voices in broad daylight, at the exact moment it would bring more attention and raise suspicions about their connections to Truniht (just see episode 03). Against Reinhard there are the nobles from the empire, who see on him a threat to their position, this one at least being a grounded and logical fear, as Reinhard genuinely wants to reform the empire and bring an end to the nobles’ abuses. These nobles, however, are fundamentally one-dimensional characters. Think about the very stereotypical picture of an entitled douchebag noble you’ve seen plenty of times in fiction and you’ll get exactly what these characters are. They show absolute disdain for the lower classes, see themselves as having some sort of inherent superiority, similar to kings who saw themselves as chosen by God in centuries past, are easily prone to act recklessly and blatantly stupid when their pride is hurt and, when cornered, become absolute cowards. No wonder they are the first ones to go down. Acting against both sides you have Rubinsky and the Cult of Terra. Rubinsky is the feudal lord of Phezzan, an independent planet whose economy is heavily based on trading between the Alliance and the Empire. He happens to be the antagonist with the better characterization, being treacherous, ambitious, karma-savvy, but still highly self-aware and with a hint of spite on his tongue. Sadly, Rubinsky is not immune to stupidity, as his major plan during the mid-section of the story suffers from a major flaw that the audience can see coming from 10 miles away. Seriously Rubinsky, did you really not expect Reinhard to come rudely knocking on your door so he could get to your neighbor of the other side? Ultimately, though, the major issue with Rubinsky is that he becomes simply a plot device by the end. He appears when needed during the second half to instigate some conflict, which will turn out mostly ineffectual by the end, and when that role is exhausted he is simply discarded by the narrative. That same fate is shared by the Cult of Terra, the agents of several plot-relevant events throughout the series. In essence, the cult is a religious group who sees Earth as a sacred land and holds the restoration of its power and relevance as their ultimate goal, an objective they are willing to use terrorism to fulfill. While the main goal and core belief of the group is clear, the nature of the Cult of Terra as a religion is fundamentally left unexplored. Here is something that bugged me as I watched the series: why do people even join this cult? Earth, by this point, is a completely irrelevant planet, populated by just a few million people and with very little natural and technological resources, so making it the center of humanity again would be unfeasible. This even raises some inconsistences as to how did the Cult have enough money to finance the rise of Phezzan as an independent state. Aside from that, the ideas that could make the cult attractive to people around the galaxy are never explored, its fundaments never brought up. The entire religion serves as nothing more than a generic antagonist, complete with an unfaithful douchebag leader and servants willing to blindly sacrifice themselves with no prospect of victory, so it’s easy to conclude that the religious aspect was implemented simply because it was the easiest to insert without raising as many questions as some other brand of villain would. Religions act based on faith, so who cares if it doesn’t make sense within the story anyway? For the sake of comparison, look at the religion of Vodarac in Eureka Seven, or the Church of Yaldabaoth from Arslan Senki, another of Tanaka’s works (I don’t even care if you think it isn’t a good series, the parallel is valid!). In Eureka Seven, it’s explained about the meaning of the concept of Vodarac, its connection to the Coralian and what it means to its believers, as well as the effect of it in the narrative and the way it ties to the faith itself. In the case of the Church of Yaldabaoth, being the world of Arslan Senki one with rudimentary science, it’s logical that people would attach themselves to a religion that seeks to explain the universe, especially one that is the official faith of its nation and holds executing “infidels” as common practice. In both series the reasoning for people to join the faith is clearly defined and doesn’t raise contradictions in regards to their role within the story. Taking Earth out of the equation, the Cult of Terra could easily be turned into a terrorist group with political motivation and their role in the series would have been essentially the same. Throughout the series, the Cult continuously loses power, until it decides to do a desperate attack and is finally ended in anti-climactic fashion. Speaking of political motivations, let’s talk about something where the series excels at. A very commendable trait of GED’s depiction of politics is that it doesn’t depict only the game of power, but it also includes the human factor within it. Paying some attention to modern and old politics will show that personal beliefs, morally influenced ideologies and the desire to be an agent of good play a role in governments almost as big as the standard game of interests and intrigues. Not to say that the series leaves aside that aspect either, you can easily see that at play within the nobles of the Empire and even more within the Alliance, where corrupt politicians abuse power in order to manipulate media and keep their levels of influence. If you’ve read various analyses of the series, you might have heard a few times (or many, as I have!) the main question it brings up: what is better, a corrupt democracy or a just autocracy? While the characters on the Alliance side, or at least the good ones, are very devote to the principal of democracy, as it’s in their belief that a govern that still has to bow to the people’s will is fairer, the show itself seems to have a slight bias towards autocracy, perceptible in the way it treats Reinhard’s actions and the effect of his government. Another trait that is commonly highly praised by the fans of GED is its battles, both in the epic scale present in them, as well as the strategies in display. Sadly, this is another aspect I’ll have to criticize. There are issues in the depiction of battle tactics, in the presentation and in the writing itself. Let’s start with the strategies. I suppose video-games don’t exist in this distant future, since even though these battles take place in space, where they would have freedom to position and maneuver fleets in all directions, nobody takes advantage of the z-axis. The vast majority of space battles take place in a strict two-dimensional plane, and you can count in one hand the amount of instances someone remembered they could move up or down with their massive spaceships. This leads to the most glaring problem: the vast majority of the tactics used are predictable and simplistic. What can eventually break the monotony is the introduction of futuristic elements, like Zeffir particles, but for the most part such strategies involve just fleet positioning that Hannibal would consider just part of a beginners guide: multiple times it’s visible when some fleet (usually lead by Attenborough) is retreating to lure the enemy into their plan, or when one fleet is about to be surrounded by the enemy, the biggest offenders in this case being Bittenfeld and Fahrenheit in episode 79. There’s another aspect to this issue, but this one I’d like to discuss when talking about the presentation. Eventually, this creates a disconnect between what is shown on screen to what the show keeps telling us in regards to Yang and Reinhard’s supposed strategic brilliance. For my money, I’d bet on Bucock being the one that truly displays to be an strategic mastermind, as even though he only leads two battles, both of them are masterfully conducted. In both instances, Bucock makes excellent use of the scenario surrounding the troops, predicts enemy movement, leads them into successful traps and manages to hold off vastly bigger armies. For all accounts, he only loses because the plot demands so. GED actually makes a strong case for the value of experience against natural talent, if you look at it that way, as Merkatz also shows to be a much more cunning military leader than his young counterparts. When it comes to issues with the writing, it’s visible on how the usual antagonistic forces that get in the way of the main heroes are defeated by their own incompetence, to a point that can sometimes become contradictory to what their characters are supposed to be. When faced by Yang or Reinhard, it’s not uncommon for admirals and generals to commit grossly amateurish mistakes that the audience itself can see through. Here is an example: one of the first battles in the series, designed to “prove” Reinhard’s genius, is one where his fleet is outnumbered AT LEAST 3 to 1 by the Alliance’s army. Sounds impressive, doesn’t it? Now here is a question; if you are close to engaging the enemy in combat and your troops have vast numerical superiority over theirs, how do you proceed: position your army in a manner that allows you to quickly surround and dispatch the enemy forces, minimizing damage taken and preventing them from escaping, or you separate your soldiers in troops small enough to be inferior to your enemy and position them in a way they can easily be picked apart and destroyed? Because this last one was the method chosen by the Alliance’s fleet. By all accounts, Reinhard took the advantage not because of any brilliant strategy, but because of his enemy’s crushing idiocy. I say that these are issues with the writing because, these characters being experienced commanders, such rookie mistakes should be out of the equation if the idea is to highlight the efficiency of the main cast or make the antagonist seem like even slightly competent characters. The last issue I’d like to discuss in this section is the role of the narrator within the work. Now, the existence of a narrator in a work like this is not an issue; when you have a large universe with organization far different from what your audience is accustomed, it’s natural to include narration to ease your audience in, so that the elements of the story don’t come out as jarring. The problem with the narrator in GED, and this is possibly the most pervasive issue, is how overbearing it is. This obnoxious prick constantly chimes in the most varied and inappropriate situations to give away stuff that could be easily inserted within dialogue or individual thoughts without compromising the narrative, when he’s not giving away bafflingly pointless details. He blatantly spouts what the characters are feeling and thinking at certain moments, he narrates actions and emotions the exact moment after we saw the characters act it on screen, adding nothing to the scene (“Not being able to defeat Yang, Bittenfeld got extremely irritated” thanks, but I noticed that on my own!), he even feels the need to tell how many spoons of soup Reinhard ate! His is also one of the voices you’ll hear the most during battles, as they frequently opt to have days take place within an episode with only the narration explaining the events. This problem has a lot to do with the source material the anime was based on, the novels: that overbearing style of narration and the way certain events of the story are paced within the narrative are very characteristic of how a novel is written. The issue here is that GED was not translated from one media to the other in any smooth fashion, even as an anime, it retains a style of narration that is not fit for this media specifically. Since anime is an audiovisual media, it benefits more from having the scene and the characters themselves show what is going on, not having it spelled out for the viewer. Presentation Let’s be honest, folks: taking into consideration the amount of whisky, wine and beer consumed by these characters, I’d say half of the main to secondary cast should recognize they have some sort of drinking problem! I can’t be the only one who sees that! Ok, going back to the space battles, let’s talk about that last issue I mentioned. As you watch the series, you’ll most likely notice these battles are presented in two manners: the first one, obviously, are those where we get an overview of the combat, with the massive spaceships firing at the enemy and hundreds being blown up in both sides; the other one is the fleet movement being displayed in the monitors and commented. The first point of contention here is the way the action displays how these battles evolve: the sequences of lasers getting fired are not enough to convey the flow of the battle, so most of the information about the combat is relayed by the characters in command, making the action itself lackluster. These sequences lack the flare that traditional action sequences have and it took me a while to understand why, but I would, controversially, say that the scope is the source of the issue. The numbers are all so high, counting on dozens of thousands of ships and millions of soldiers, that the series has difficulty properly framing that within the combats and simply displaying random ships being blow up doesn’t cut it, it’s not enough for the viewer to understand how those particular vessels being destroyed is in anyway meaningful to the big picture, when so many of them are shown in every battle and rarely anyone important is in them. Also, just looking at enormous ships far apart from each other be destroyed doesn’t pack the same variety and creativity seen in traditional action sequences the media can provide, like gunfights, swordfights or the tried-and-true mecha-battles, so the combats in GED don’t take long to seem somewhat “samey”. Let me get a bit light with the bashing, though, I can feel the target on my back itching. If you wanna know about the animation: it’s pretty good, son. It’s distinct, not featuring the most common visual tropes associated with anime, characters have varied designs, making it easily to distinguish them immediately and the series generally packs a unique visual identity, setting it apart within the media. Sometimes you can see a few shoddy frames, but the work generally has very stable animation quality. One aspect that might be divisive when it comes to the visual presentation is the Imperial’s infatuation with 1800s style fashion, architecture, furniture and pretty much everything else. Seriously, they even use gold coins to bribe a guy at one point! Whether you find this particular visual identity goofy, thematic relevant, stylistically clever or just plain unnecessarily is up to you, but it does raises some questions in regards to world consistency and logic. It took me 42 episodes to see the first security camera on the streets of an imperial city, for once, while none seemed to be present at the Emperor’s residence. When in focus is on the military aspect, though, there’s care put into making the pomp of each rank translate into their appearance, with uniforms distinct to common soldiers, generals, admirals and so forth. You probably want me to talk about the soundtrack, which is composed of classical pieces, but here is the problem: I barely notice them! Perhaps that is because I was so focused on the dialogue and plot that I happen to miss them, but I generally could not remember the pieces that played throughout the series. Same can’t be said about the voice acting though, which is packed with classical voices from anime, like Shiozawa Kaneto (Rei, from Hokuto no Ken), Inoue Kazuhiko (Cyborg 009, Kakashi, etc), Horikawa Ryo (Vegeta) and Sakakibara yoshiko (the Puppet Master, from Ghost in the Shell), pulling their A-game here. Personal Ramblings It’s clear to many that, while critically acclaimed, GED is also somewhat of a niche product, so let’s do that exercise I like to bring up and try to understand why it garners such reputation. For once, the audience who composes fans of the series seems to be composed mostly by people who are drawn to older works, so having started in the late 80s certainly gives it that old-school appeal. The series also has a distinctive aesthetic that is a clear departure from the standard anime-look, even for the time it began serialization. That aesthetic possibly helped sediment it as a work of clearly serious tone, appealing for those who looked for something of more mature look within the media. Adding to that, the characters are mostly adults, certainly appealing for anime-fans who are somewhat tired of the overreliance on teenage/kid characters that we see throughout the media. Lastly, the theme of politics is one that is not seen so often even in other media, and seeing it being tackled gives an intelligent vibe to shows that are able to handle it properly. Also helps that the entire work is design to have a very classy feel to it. This might not be the most accurate assessment to make, but I believe most people tend to look at anime only focusing on the big picture: the most surprising twists, the main actions protagonists partake, the big events in the plot. Looking solely at the big picture, Legend of the Galactic Heroes sure is an impressive work: whole solar systems are involved in the conflicts, battles feature impressive large numbers, it has long spamming plans taking place, deals with an universal concept and its main characters are noticeably treated as larger-than-life people (none of them up to Samus level, but hey, they do their best!). However, I think that when you look at it with your mind on the details is that the nuances, real qualities and flaws become a lot more noticeable, and when it comes to Legend of the Galactic Heroes, its qualities are surely strong and worth comenting, but its flaws are also quite persistent for it to be among what I consider to be the very best in anime.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Aug 5, 2016 Not Recommended
Question: how do you classify a work as being “the bottom of the barrel”? For most people it’s quite simple, their most hated work is also the one they hold as the worst they’ve seen. I, in the other hand, try to separate what I feel about a work from any critical judgment of it. That is not for buying any illusion of objectivity, it’s simply because I feel like it would be dishonest from my part to do it. That is why I’m at the same time put off and fascinated by a work like NOiSE, one of the few that I got to
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classify as an absolute failure. For those who are usually annoyed by the length of my reviews, you can rest assured that this one is not going to be as long as the previous ones. I don’t think I’ll have anything positive to say about the work anyway.
Story and Characters When elaborating a story you’d think that “Where to start?” would be among the first questions that go through the authors mind, both in regards to the setting as well as the timeframe in which the story decides to kick-off. Whether it’s an anime or manga, the job of the first episode or chapter is to properly establish characters and setting and offer a decent hook to grab the audience’s interest. The issue that is immediately apparent in NOiSE is that the series starts directly with a hook that has no setting or characters to stand on. We’re introduced to two characters, the protagonist, Susono Musubi, and Clawsa, investigating a place where missing children were found dead. The chapter jumps straight into the plot, with the most basic and confusing characterization possible: there’s no establishment of what kind of people these characters are, outside the fact that they’re police officers, no comprehensive explanation about the setting and no proper notion of how these two elements relate to each other. You might see here and there someone criticize a work by saying that the characters, for example, have no personality, but believe me, I’m not exaggerating by claiming that the characters here have little to no dimension whatsoever. Musubi has her job as a police officer as her only trait and behaves in the predictable manner for that role, Clawsa is nothing more than cannon fodder and the antagonists, two organizations called The Order and the Safeguards, have objectives and actions that are vague to the point of being nonsensical. From the bad works I’ve read or seen over the years that gave me enough of an impression to award it with a score, one characteristic the majority seemed to have, at the very least, is that they were followable, something that only occasionally NOiSE barely manages to be. That is one of the traits the can lead me to call a work an absolute failure, when even following the narrative is a struggle, not for an specific writing style, but due to sheer incompetence. The details laid out by the plot don’t properly connect with each other, the information given by the characters has no ground to stand on within the line of events or the setting and I still have no idea of what the title means, for Christ sake! Now, I’m someone who appreciates subtlety and the ability some works exhibit to convey meaningful information or emotion in a concise manner, reason why my favorites include series like Toradora!, Shiki and Ergo Proxy. However, there is a difference between being subtle and having no distinguishable worthwhile substance and this is a work that crosses the line going from subtlety to emptiness. I do understand that NOiSE is a prequel to BLAME!, another work of Nihei Tsutomo, but there’s no excuse to why it couldn’t work as a standalone story. A prequel is supposed to flesh out the world and events prior to another story and for that it’s necessary to be well crafted and capable of being appreciated on its own rights. The Star Wars prequels, for once, receive particular hatred for being a bad chapter of a beloved franchise, but they didn’t work not for being part of a larger series, it was for being bad movies in the first place. Presentation Good Lord, it seems that nothing here is salvageable! The first thing to notice about NOiSE’s presentation is that it has particularly bad use of framing. Complementing the fact that the narrative is a clusterfuck, the transition between panels is confusing, to the point I had to read some pages three times to understand how characters went from one place to another. This is, off course, not helped by the art. For once, it has very schizophrenic use of gradiance, with it being entirely absent from some chapters, while others are all in varying shades of gray. Most of the panels have stark distinction of black and white, which could be a way of conveying a gritty, hopeless cyberpunk setting, but loses its effect due to the many problems of the work and the poor quality of the drawings. If there are recurrent set pieces, they are barely recognizable, and weirdly, the art style seems remarkably afraid of straight lines, for some reason. Could be simply result of the overall poor quality or a form of conveying the crapsack nature of the world, but it generally contributes to the damage that is already being done to the presentation. Personal Ramblings I have not seen much of Nihei Tsutomu’s works. Aside from NOiSE, I’ve read the first two chapters of Biomega, which were bad enough to make me drop it right there, and watched an ONA based on BLAME!. All of them displayed the same issues and gave me, overall, very little faith in anything else coming from that same author. I can’t say I’m not curious, though!, As I sad at the beginning, a work like NOiSE fascinates me to a degree. Sometimes a movie, or manga, or anime can be bad, but also very intriguing on its own rights, compelling us into trying to grasp what was the thought process that leads to such embarrassing result. Recently, another work from Nihei Tsutomu to garner some attention was Knights of Sidonia, a 15 volume manga that was adapted into a two-season anime series, and I’m very skeptical of its quality, but still very curious about how it fares. Whether this author has evolved and learned to do characterization and setting right or if he still has no idea on how to differentiate between subtlety and vacuity, I’ll have to find out for myself.
Reviewer’s Rating: 1
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Jul 15, 2016
Nodame Cantabile
(Anime)
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Recommended
A quite funny argument you might find occasionally in defense of a work is the saying “you watched it wrong”, implying that any criticism the person might have to the series in question comes from having watched it with the wrong mindset. While I find particularly silly that one would primarily assume such case about someone else’s opinion when facing criticism to a beloved work, since it’s a very pretentious attitude, it doesn’t seem unlikely that a circumstance like that can happen. That was the issue I faced when I began watching Nodame Cantabile, an anime I started with the expectation of being a clean-cut
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romance, a genre that I’m especially attracted to, as some of my favorites might have hinted. While romance is an important aspect of the anime, I soon came to realize it wasn’t the focus of the story. Nodame Cantabile is instead a story about the passion for music and perseverance for the art, with romance being relevant, but secondary.
Story and Characters If you are by any chance sick to death of the high school setting (I’m not) you can relax with this one, because Nodame Cantabile takes place at a music College, where the characters are adult enough to be thinking about meaningful aspects of life, like the pursuit of a career or marriage, and not be obnoxiously shy around the idea of sex, but still enrolled in a setting that requires them to go through a similar routine to that of a high school anime. Except the playing at orchestras part, obviously. There’s frankly not much I can comment about the progression without addressing it as it relates to the characters, so let’s get to them. Chiaki is the main and best character of the series. He’s focused, hardworking and dedicated to his dream of becoming a conductor, which reflects on his skills as a musician, that make him widely respected among his college mates. Only these attributes, however, could make him an unbearable Mary Sue, so he also features quite pertinent flaws that are obvious even to those who admire him. He’s impatient, has a slight superiority complex and, at the beginning, is quite persistent about interpreting music strictly the way it’s written. His character arc is focused first of all in understanding the human aspect of playing a song, taking into consideration when to be bossy and when to let loose and understand the impetus of the musician, as well as the heart of the song. Perhaps the only misstep of his development would be when, halfway through the story, the series brings more of his life outside of music, expanding his relationship with his family, an aspect which, unfortunately, is cut short and not given the depth it deserves, when the rest of his arc is so competently conducted. Noda Megumi, or Nodame, as she is commonly called, is the main female lead and a complete air-head. She is a talented pianist, but unlike Chiaki, displays a carefree play style and attitude. Being blunt, Nodame is the weaker end of the character line-up of the series. She seems to have barely any agency or meaning to Chiaki’s character in the first arc, with a clearly one sided dynamic in regards to the romance for most of the duration of the anime. After witnessing Chiaki play on a College event is that she realizes the difference in skill between them and the plot hints at a possible development to her character, just to quickly revert her back to normal, an event that seems to be fairly recurrent until the conclusion, when she finally takes measures into improving as a musician. She is actually a character that would benefit from being placed in high school, as in this instance her immaturity and behavior would be coherent with the setting. Nearing the conclusion, more of her past is laid out to the viewer, although lacking the depth and sense of weight that would give it stronger impact. Next in line is Stresemann, an experienced and reputed conductor with a womanizing habit, very loose work ethics and irresponsible behavior. Right after his introduction, Stresemann gives barely any reason to support why he would be a competent conductor, let alone a renowned one, up until the second quarter, when he takes a stronger role as an agent of the story, by taking Chiaki under his guidance, bringing more attention to his talent, as well as helping him take the stick off his ass and open up as a musician. Through his influence is that Chiaki first notices the importance of not simply being an authoritarian leader and taking into consideration the state of the musicians working under his baton. Following up on the characters that mean something, there’s Mine, a violinist and Chiaki’s friend. He is a very proactive character, responsible for the idea of forming an orchestra under Chiaki’s leadership after several students graduate and is incredibly passionate about keeping that orchestra alive, taking decisions for that matter that highlight the quality of his character. His influence over the plot and Chiaki’s character is not overbearing, but easily noticeable, being for the most part stronger than that of Nodame herself. The remaining figures have varying degrees of depth to them, but generally light effect in the plot besides being placeholders for meaningful contextual positions within the narrative. This may sound like a criticism, but it isn’t, their job is to help move the story in small pieces according to their purpose within the orchestra and their personalities have meaning defined by what they extract from the main characters or in how they perceive the dynamic among them, and, frankly, being restricted to those positions is just fine, as attempting to delve deeper into their lives could potentially derail the story from its main focus. Speaking of which: the anime keeps itself steadily centered around Chiaki’s growth as a musician as he sediments his name as a talented conductor in the eyes of the more experienced and famous figures of the industry. His path is portrayed in believable manner, as his connections to people who can bring him attention help spread his name, but it’s his talent that wins them over. Near the end, once he has enough ground to make riskier decisions for his future, the anime shifts its gaze to Nodame. It’s at this point that the romance actually develops to a conclusive end, although it lacks more of the nuance that would make the transition to a full romantic relationship warranted. Presentation When it comes to the visuals, Nodame Cantabile is generally weak. Taking aside the purposefully bland color pallet, character designs tend to be very samey in the overall structure (long faces, small eyes, wide and expressive mouths, etc) and the level of detail applied to them is decent, effective in giving them personality and making them distinguishable, but overall far from impressive. For the portions where they play any instrument, the series makes use of CGI, which is surprisingly well-implemented. It’s used to give the characters fluid movement, syncing really well with the music, and it’s colored in fairly seamless fashion, in order to avoid making such scenes disconnected from the rest of the show. The highlights of the presentation, as expected, reside on the sequences where the music is center-frame. Originally, the performance bits center more of the physical aspect of playing or in the character’s small growth at that instant, so the relation between the music and the visuals is treated in very bland fashion. After a bunch of people start to fall in love the presentation develops to show a bit more care into enriching the musical performances, inserting more personality between the song and visuals. The flare added by this integration helps to better hide the technical shortcomings of the series in these scenes specifically, although the usage of still frames continues to be a blatant and frequent annoyance. Giving the main theme of Nodame Cantabile, it’s to be expected that the series would feature some striking classical pieces from composers like Brahms, Mozart and Schubert. The pieces are, off course, celebrated works, so the only possibility that might derail your enjoyment is if you happen to dislike classical music. This does, however, create a disconnect in the case the audience is not versed in music of this variety: many scenes have characters asserting about the quality of the performance or making criticism to the musicians, frequently using terminology related to music so if you don’t have knowledge of the art to that degree, discerning how exactly one performance is better than the other is unlikely to happen. These sequences are clearly meant to be enjoyed by people to are knowledgeable of classical music, as the average viewer will have the minutia fly over their heads. Like me. Personal Ramblings Now let’s go back a bit to the subject I talked about in the intro and ask: how to define what is to “watch something the wrong way”? I believe that is a simple issue of approach. It’s hard to define, previously to watching or reading any given work, what is the appropriate mindset to be in, which can lead to disappointing first impressions. The bigger issue, though, is if the viewer refuses to accept that the work is something different and stays in that mindset throughout the work, leading to an unfair judgement of its qualities and flaws.. In the case of Nodame Cantabile, though, it wasn’t hard to realise early on that I was approaching the series through the wrong angle and then change it, so I believe my judgement for the remainder of the series was in line with what it was trying to convey. While the ending result was a really good show I can’t shake off the feeling that the prototype for something even better was there, but the series misses opportunities to achieve that level and rise to a truly great or excellent work. In many occasions it felt like there were much better characters in need of some spotlight, but those characters were overshadowed by Nodame’s quirks, which could be fairly entertaining in their own right, but that time could be better spent in legitimate character growth, either for Nodame or the sidecast. Don’t get me wrong, I surely believe the show is a good recommendation, but one can benefit from being mindful of what they are going to find. Being eclectic doesn’t hurt anyway!
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Apr 23, 2016
Watashitachi no Shiawase na Jikan
(Manga)
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Not Recommended
In my previous review I commented at the end that, in my opinion, fixation on scores can often lead people to feel pressured into taking a specific position. This can often lead to two different outcomes, depending on how little capacity the individual has to stop giving a shit about public opinion: in one, the person evaluating the specific work can end up taking an extreme position, considering it’s a naturally divisive work, in order to fit into the group that shares that position. The other outcome, however, is something that I find even more worrying: it can create around certain works the status of
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“untouchable”. In these instances, the work is so wildly agreed as being a masterpiece that disagreeing with the consensus is nothing short of heresy.
So, I think this little diatribe can give a good idea of how I felt going into Watashitachi no Shiawase na Jikan (stupid long-ass names! I’ll call this one Happy Time for the sake of convenience) and suddenly finding it not as good as I was expecting. In fact, not finding it good in general! Story and Characters Sometime ago I was discussing with a friend about a certain series we both had problems with and he mentioned that from his point of view it seemed that the characters in that series were not really representations of humans, but personifications of problems. When I began reading Happy Time, I suddenly recalled that specific statement. But what necessarily would mean a character being just a personification of a problem? Well, the issue in this case is that, before we have any idea of how the characters can be generally perceived as human beings, the source of characterization is simply the problems that define their struggle. Being Happy Time a drama, it’s understandable that the personal issues and traumas faced by the characters would be the focus of the story, but even for a drama, it’s important to first of all, establish what traits the characters have outside of those issues. The problem with letting their traumas and struggle define them is that if they are supposed to be relatable or likeable figures, the audience is left with little ground to identify or attach to them, and if they are not supposed to be likeable or relatable, the lack of defining traits leaves them without solid foundation for their development. I’d like to make a parallel to better explain my points, but before that let’s get to know the unfortunates that compose the story of Happy Time. Mutou Juri is a former pianist that has already tried suicide 3 times and holds a deep grudge against her uncaring mother. She begins visiting prisoners sentenced to death by influence of her aunt Monica, as a way of driving herself away from her depression. Yuu is the prisoner on death row that is visited by Juri and with whom she begins to develop a bond, based on the understanding that both have deep grudges against the situations they were raised in. Monica is Juri’s aunt and a nun who took the habit (no pun intended) of visiting the prisoners who don’t have anyone looking after them. In the past, she lost her son in an accident, but couldn’t bear the grudge after the killer committed suicide in prison. Happy Time’s story already begins at what can be perceived as a conflict, with the main character, Juri, meeting her mother, who is visiting her in the hospital after her third suicide attempt and it’s clear in this scene that their relationship has not been the best for a long time. From then on, the plot dives into its main driving point, the relationship between Juri and Yuu, which follows the tried-and-true development: they first don’t see eye-to-eye, but due to the necessity of meeting each other end up finding similarities that lead them to bond and improve each other’s mindset and way of looking into life. Now, I’ll not simply disregard how the story develops and the changes they operate into one another, my point here is that, with such weak characterization on both parts, the foundation in which that developments stands on is flimsy and ultimately creates a disconnect between what the characters were and what they become. The parallel I’m going to make here is with another manga, Bitter Virgin. Yeah, I know, it’s my favorite, call me guilty on that, but the parallel is still valid! Point being: in the first chapter of Bitter Virgin, there’s a superficial but effective work in giving up the basics about the main characters; Aizawa, the main girl, is generally shy and seems uncomfortable in interacting with men and Daisuke, the main boy, gives on the slight vibe of being a womanizer, while still being a well-centered teenager. When the bomb-shell about the main girl is revealed, there’s clear understanding of how that might have shaped her current persona and subsequently how that affects Daisuke’s perception of her. From then on, the manga goes on top explore her backstory, how she transitioned from her old-self to the individual she is during the main events of the narrative and how her experiences affect the people around her. I like to always keep characters under a microscope, exactly because I don’t like to carelessly throw around words like “bland”, but that in reality is what the main characters of Happy Time are, bland, their characterization is restricted to the bare minimum to make them realistic, but there’s no three-dimensional figure around that. They act very according to their respective traumas, but what kind of people they were before such traumas shaped them, how their change was perceived by others, or even how others react to the kind of people they are currently is not show to the reader. Most of this problem comes from a fundamental issue on how their backstory and characterization is handled, in that it’s in blatant disagreement with the rule of Show, Don’t Tell. What kind of people they were in the past is not shown to the audience, but simply spelled out, how they change as characters is not an easily observable change progressively displayed throughout the story, it’s simply stated by other characters. It’s a principal that boils down to Robot Devil’s words: “You can’t just have your characters announce how they feel, that makes me feel angry!” That is not exclusive to how characters feel, how they act, how they interact with others, how they change has to be observable by the audience, otherwise it’s all restricted to Inferred Attributes. I’m willing to recognize that these issues are a result of the manga’s short length, being it just 8 chapters long. However, understanding how these problems came to be does not make them forgivable, if anything it just highlights poor planning on the writer’s end. More time should be given to fleshing out the characters and reshaping the writing in a manner that could allow the audience to read into the narrative themselves, not be force-fed the development. In general, these issues would only be enough for me to classify a work as mediocre, but not straight up bad. The first point where Happy Time gets the rating of “BAD” is when it decides to pull of the Rape Card. For the sake of clarity, pulling the rape card is when a work attempts to sell itself as mature and serious by utilizing rape as a plot point, either in backstory or in the current events of the story. The problem is that you can’t simply pull off a rape card, you have to earn it, and again, that is something that Bitter Virgin managed to pull off with much more efficiency. In that manga, the event in question is displayed tastefully but with no sugar-coating, giving full context of how it affected the characters at the time and how it ties in to the current state of things. With no understanding of what kind of person the character was prior to the event and no context of how it happened though, as it happens in Happy Time, it loses its connection with the current events in the story and ultimately becomes a superfluous plot-point, and you simply can’t have rape in your story just for the sake of having it. Beyond that, Happy Time is also a story that didn’t have the guts to work its characters darker moments to the full extent, something observable on the revelation of Yuu’s backstory. Besides being almost completely exposited in the very dry and audience-unfriendly fashion like I explained before, Yuu’s past and crime are the textbook definition of a generic Woobie-backstory: it does everything possible to exempt the character from any guilty while still pulling the most clichéd but poorly developed sympathy-inducing elements, from growing on an orphanage to dead brother and, worst of all, dead cat. I’m not arguing that actually giving the character full guilt would be enough to save the story, but would be one point where the characterization in Happy Time could have been truly commendable, it would actually lead the audience to understand the extent of how much he had buried himself before coming back to his senses, making his current state much more fitting and the development he receives more meaningful. Presentation This will be considerably shorter in comparison to my previous reviews, as a manga features fewer elements up for judgment in its presentation than an anime. Happy Time’s visuals are generally fairly average. There’s nothing particularly disagreeable on how the figures are built and, if I’m actually free to cut the manga some slack, it manages to present a few design choices that have relevant symbolic meaning within the story: Juri leaves her fancy, “stay away from me” hairdo, adopts a subdued dressing style and ties her hair tighter giving the idea she has become less hostile to interaction, while Yuu accepts cutting the long hair that hid his face and symbolically manifested his unwillingness to get close to others. There’s also solid pacing in between frames, so there are no instances where how the action went from one image to another looks disjointed or unfocused. The one point the manga could use improvement is on the variation between shades, which would help bring more detail to the expressions. Gods, I sound like a boring twat now! Personal Ramblings Happy Time is currently the 10th highest rated manga on My Anime List, which is sufficient to give it untouchable status to some extent. The danger of a show or manga achieving that kind of status is that it makes general consensus unfriendly to criticism of any type, especially if it’s harsh criticism like what I proposed to do here. Deviation from the common opinion is disregarded often as “you simply watched/read it wrong”, which I’m willing to admit might happen but either way is not a worthwhile form of counter-argument. I for once believe that every work should face scrutiny to some extent, even if it’s something regarded as “The Greatest of All Time”, like Fullmetal Alchemist, Berserk or Legend of the Galactic Heroes. It’s by exposing or discussing a show or manga’s shortcomings that we can get to an understanding of what truly makes a Greatest of All Time. As you might have guessed, the question that I would like to ask now is: How did Happy Time become so acclaimed? In art, and especially in fiction, objectively defining the quality of a work is near impossible (unless we’re talking about Metroid: Other M, whose story objectively sucks!), but I think it’s possible to have a good understanding of the general quality of a work by looking at its audience. Now, I’ll not pretend I have a deep understanding of the audience of a manga I just read, I can only theorize. Considering that the most popular manga on MAL tend to be shounen, it’s possible to pull out of my ass the idea that this title, having achieved some initial praise, might have been a gateway into drama-centered manga for many readers, who were likely tired of shounen or drifting into other genres and ended up finding an appeal on its quirks. But this is all conjecture. I’ll not lie, I find disheartening that a title like this is so acclaimed, in front of works far more nuanced and respectful to the audience, like Vinland Saga or Parasyte (or even some shounen!). I don’t maintain hopes that this review will somehow “enlighten the masses”, but I hope to throw some perspective into the discussion and challenge some notions about what qualifies a good drama. Feel free to post any angry comments on my profile, I have popcorn ready and a brand-new keyboard, so you are welcome.
Reviewer’s Rating: 3
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Mar 31, 2016
Boku dake ga Inai Machi
(Anime)
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[Disclaimer: The arguments I've made for story structure and such I'd probably still stand by. However, events of the plot I didn't judge necessary to address when I first wrote this review I can't say if I'd defend now. I made the choice to let the review as it stands and make no further edits.]
I was originally not planning in writing anything in regards to this anime in specific, as I thought I had nothing interesting to say about the title. However, after reading the analysis by Zephsilver, I managed to put together some thoughts in regards to Boku Dake ga Inai Machi (or Erased, ... if you are not fond of tongue-twisters) that I’d like to offer in addition to the debate. I also would like to say: Zeph, I appreciate and respect your text, since it had a rational depiction of your perspective that I could reasonably grasp, but I’d like to politely disagree. Before getting into the review, though, I want to give some context: before the beginning of the winter season I had read the synopsis of Erased and added to my Plan to Watch list, as it seemed mildly interesting. Later, after watching the first two episodes, I was hooked by the premise and highly invested in what could be the outcome of the story. Only then that I got to know about the hype surrounding the series and from that point I witnessed the internet go insane over its score. Story and Characters My reviewing method for this one will be somewhat different from the norm. By the time I’m writing this, the series itself is still surrounded by controversy with two sides with very questionable motivations either raising it as the best thing since Page 3 or clamming it’s an overrated abomination pandering to masses who want to think of themselves as smart (doesn’t that apply to 99% of humanity?). Here, besides commenting of the story and characters within the work, I’ll also discus some of the arguments brought up against Erased and offer my perspective if they are correct in any form or if they hold any water. The first thing I think it’s important to understand is that Erased is, at its core, a very simple story. Besides the time-traveling plot, it has a very streamlined narrative and it is focused almost exclusively on the actions of the main character, in accordance to the fact that he is the “strange element” in the child timeline (suddenly feels like I’m talking about Zelda!). What it avoids in complexity, it opts to use in character interaction, developing the drama and the motivations that move the story forward. Before I get to the meat of the argument, though, let’s talk about some of the characters. Fujinuma Satoru is the main protagonist. “Gifted” with the ability he calls Revival, he can go back a few minutes in time, whenever something bad is about to happen. Detached and constantly feeling unfulfilled, he holds a strong regret due to events of his childhood, when two of his classmates were murdered and one of his friends was incriminated. These feelings lead him to distance himself from his past, but he is forced by a Revival to go back to the days of his childhood in order to prevent those crimes. Hinazuki Kayo is the girl who Satoru wants to prevent from becoming the first victim. Frequently abused by her mother, she avoids interacting with her classmates and is usually seen alone. She initially tries to keep a distance from Satoru, not understanding his motives for trying to get close to her, but his friendly demeanor ends up softening her emotional barriers. Yashiro Gaku is Satoru’s teacher and one of the main agents in the narrative, as he seems interested in solving Kayo’s family situation. Satoru later comments on how Yashiro was an influence to him due to a speech he gave at school, before the story had began, and a specific moment in which Yashiro looked like what Satoru expected his deceased father to be. Shiratori Jun, mostly known as Courage, is an adult who was friends with Satoru in his childhood. Socially awkward and with a heavy stutter, he feels more comfortable interacting with children, which leads him to be framed for the child-murders Satoru tries to prevent. Besides feeding the motivations of the protagonist, the story also uses him to briefly comment in how his inability to be socially active and preferring the company of children led society to misjudge his intentions, especially when Satoru faces a similar situation in the future. While the thriller aspect of the anime is in the center of the driving forces of the narrative, the bulk of the emotional investment Erased strives to build is on the bonding between Satoru and the people he is trying to save, and his motivations within the story. Great focus is given to his interactions with his friends, who with the exception of Ken’ya, who seems unusually mature for someone of his age, are all very believable child characters. By that I don’t mean being as obnoxious as an inch-deep testicle wound, by the way, these kids are actually designed to be likeable. This aspect of the story is built upon until the conclusion, where they play a part in finally getting the killer arrested. Having all of this in mind, let’s tackle some of the complaints about the series. “The time travel element is underdeveloped” The time travel element is kept simple. Firstly, Satoru’s ability to go back in time is nothing more than a plot device to put him on the track of the murders and since it seems to be simply a supernatural element instead of the usual sci-fi occurring, keeping it simply is a better idea. The story in Erased isn't about time travel, it just features such element as the one necessary for kicking the narrative into motion. Stories that are centered around time travel usually stumble and fall when they decide to flesh out this element without paying proper attention to consistency, which leads to gross plot-holes. Maintaining this element simple and undetailed allows Erased to avoid major inconsistences and focus on the main drive of the story. Also, I know some people were upset by the second instance where Satoru goes back to his child-self as it seemed he had gained control over his ability. To that, I hope you can forgive me stepping out of my polite demeanor for a while to say: For fuck’s sake, that only happened ONCE and it doesn’t even look like he had much control over it! Being it a supernatural ability, and one that seems to have a mind of its own, nonetheless, the event itself isn't so out of place as one might think. “The identity of the killer is obvious and the reveal is underwhelming” This complaint is one that fans and detractors of the series seem to agree, although in different levels of importance. I mean, the opening itself tells you who it is. The point of contention here is not whether or not the average viewer can easily guess the killer’s identity, but the purpose that such attribute plays in the story. To some, working under the mindset that Erased’s genre is Mystery; such flaw would represent a sign of incompetent use of red-herrings, as well as inability from the writer to effectively create other suspects. In other words, hack writing. Fans of the series, however, work under the mindset that Erased is, in reality, a Thriller. Such idea is supported by an interview with the director of the anime, where he states: - “I see this story as a suspense thriller, or well, a human drama in the guise of a suspense thriller” By that definition, the tension within the story would come not from the mystery over the killer’s identity, which is constantly flashed throughout the story, but from the knowledge the audience has in opposition to the cast, since knowing who is the killer would raise tension whenever he and the main characters were close, and that emotion would then culminate when the villain finally reveals itself for the protagonist. Some of his attitudes could be very ambiguous, like the ones at episode 09, but they ultimately filled the role of driving him closer to Satoru, which would then lead to their connection in the years to come, finally bringing his downfall, as Satoru himself had become the killer’s weakness. “Erased becomes an unfocused mess in the latter half” This is the one argument to which my response is a categorical NO. Before I get into a fair explanation in relation to that statement, though, let give a better example of how to define lack of focus. For that, I’ll actually give the other face and throw under the bus an anime that just so happens to be one of my favorites, Ergo Proxy, because self-awareness is important. The first 8 episodes of the anime are some of the most tightly written episodes in anime, with barely any line of dialogue wasted and plenty of subtle details in character reactions. Right before the first half, though, the main characters go into a journey looking for the truth behind the main mystery of the series, and from that point on Ergo Proxy adopts a highly experimental structure, focusing plenty of episodes in isolated conflicts tied only to the theme it wanted to address in that specific episode (I apologize for the repetition). Very little of those episodes has connection to the main goal, and when the characters reach their destination it turns out to be a dead end, forcing them to return in order to find the truth. For all of that, it’s not unreasonable to say that Ergo Proxy specifically lacks focus on its narrative. From the point Kayo leaves the center of the plot, Satoru’s objectives change, from saving the girl to protecting the other victims and uncovering the identity of the assassin. As a result, the series follows along with such change and turns its eyes to him, in the same fashion as does the danger of attracting the attention of the villain, just like we would see later on, when Satoru’s actions lead him to be the new target. In that sense, the anime simply shifts its focus, it didn’t lose it and that was the natural root to take. That also leads us to another topic; “Erased lost its charm once Kayo left the picture” I always found questionable the idea of attributing the entire appeal of a story in a side-character, but that aside, let’s understand this argument: The idea here is that, since the anime spent so much time revolving around Satoru’s efforts to save Kayo, much of the audience’s investment was crafted around the girl, as she would be the one the viewer would immediately want to see shielded from harm. The series does many efforts to frame her in sympathetic light and give her endearing qualities, so when she is moved away from the plot many felt it had wasted their investment. This is a comprehensible thought, indeed, but I believe it ignores another important aspect of fiction: by maintaining focus on a character that has already fulfilled its narrative purpose, the work runs the risk of saturating such character, diminishing the values that made them endearing in the first place and ultimately compromising the story to make room for them. Moving Kayo away from the narrative not only makes sense from a logical point of view, as it completely places her away from the killer, but also preserves her from becoming a hindrance to the story and leaves her character with the emotional baggage that comes at play during the last episodes. There is a merit in avoiding wish-fulfillment if it prevents characters from becoming a problem to the flow of the narrative. "The ending is rushed and the villain's motivations are poorly explained" This criticism specifically I can understand on the basis of how the anime progresses in his final episodes, but I’d like to explain the reason for my disagreement by discussing one of the references made by the villain, the spider thread tale. This element is first brought up at the beginning of episode 11, when the antagonist comments that after a specific event during his childhood, he begins to see spider threads hanging above the heads of his victims, in reference to a tale about a criminal who gets the chance to escape from hell using the thread sent by Shakyamuni Bhudda, but is condemned once again when the thread breaks, in punishment for his selfishness. In this tale, the thread was the last source of salvation given by a superior being to a soul in despair, so seeing it above the heads of those he wanted to kill can be interpreted as the antagonist’s desire to be someone above his victims, to be an “entity” with the power to condemn or give salvation. When he is finally defeated by Satoru, he sees a spider thread above his own head be torn apart. This is the point when he realizes that he was powerless and susceptible to being manipulated and judged just like his victims, he realizes he’s not an entity in control. By the same line of thought, he takes an interest in Satoru, after the kid survives his first attempt to kill him, because Satoru was the one able to escape his judgment. Presentation I believe many of you heard Erased’s visuals being called “cinematic” and that is actually a statement that holds water, as the anime utilizes some techniques of traditional cinema in much more noticeable fashion, a result of the experience the director had working with other professionals like Hosoda Mamoru or Araki Tetsuro, this last one an expert on making anime with mainstream appeal. Now, another term I believe can be applied to the show’s presentation, in general, is minimalistic. The characters are frequently framed in wide shots within the scenery, with the fixed camera giving full comprehension of the environment while the figures are kept small and with minimal action. The purpose of this directing style is to avoid the viewer getting lost in the imagery and lead them to focus only on the details that are relevant to the narrative. In the other hand, it also serves to emphasize emotional moments and heighten the impact of scenes that display a little bit more of flare, giving them a whimsical feel. A minimalistic presentation, when executed effectively, can suscinctly drive home the emotional core of the scene, and i'd say that Erased uses that method with excelence. This trait also manifests in the characterization, as the shots stealthily introduce certain details and character motivations, like the hero’s Mask in Satoru’s bedroom, to show a figure that inspired him as a kid, or in the manner in which the killer is framed, from the point he’s fully introduced to the brief interactions that hint to his identity, like when the camera is focused upwards, mirroring Satoru’s perspective. These choices of framing serve to cut on the necessity of exposition, reducing the dialogue only to what is essential. This can also be noticed on the sound work: important scenes, like the moment Satoru makes the first impactful contact with Hinazuki, frequently opt for not having soundtrack, driving even more attention to the dialogue and giving full responsibility to the viewer to infer on what is going on between the characters. For an anime that has been accused of being heavy-handed, I’d say this directorial decision is pretty respectful towards the audience. The points that feature soundtrack, though, don’t tend to be impressive. Most of the noticeable tracks play their purpose, but are fairly generic, serving only to highlight the specific mood the scene wants to convey. Exceptions would be, of course, the highly catch opening, the fitting and mellow ending, and tracks such as “Only I am missing”, “I have to save her”, which is brief but very effective at crafting tension despite the upbeat vibe, “Reasoning” and “She was there, alone”. Hum, I’m noticing a pattern here! When it comes to the acting, it’s very consistent with character portrayal and overall quite solid, but one aspect that might raise disagreements, more than usual at least, is Satoru’s voice actor. Despite a solid performance, even taking into consideration it’s his first anime role, Shinnosuke Mitsushima is one of those actors who has a voice that is too singular, which can drive attention away from the acting itself. Personal Ramblings I think now we can address some of the external questions related to Erased. Is Erased the best thing since dark beer? No, I can myself point out more than a handful of titles that are better, without taking away from the anime itself. Was it overhyped? Sure! I mean, it’s hard to refute that an anime getting into MAL’s top 10 before it is even finished is quite a ludicrous event. Is the negativity warranted? My stance, at least, is “not really”. I believe it’s fair to ask how much of the negativity towards the series is a direct result of its hype, as some people might think it pressures them into a position. I’ve seen even better shows get attacked with far less meaningful arguments, as a result of public opinion being highly favorable towards them, so the attitude itself doesn’t surprise me. The most interesting question, though, seems to be: how did Erased of all anime become so hyped? Think about the most notorious titles of recent years that can be considered overhyped: Attack on Titan was a shounen with focus in drama and a high body count, with an overall gritty setting and story; Kill la Kill was a self-aware ride of nonsensical action with very little restraint; One Punch Man was a parody of superhero tropes centered around fast-paced action and comedy. To think that a slow-paced thriller like Erased, with such an emphasis in children interacting and very little action, would become the hit of the season is a very surprising event. I must admit that I somewhat enjoyed the polemic surrounding the anime, not so much for how it affected the show itself in the public eye, but because it rings specially close to one of my personal beliefs: fixation on scores is bullshit! People going crazy over one title’s score seemed ludicrous and drove the discussion away from the important elements by turning it into an exercise in group-think. Now you had to rate the show a certain way so that your opinion could be taken seriously by certain sections of the anime community. Now, however, the fires of the flame wars are on the rout to be tamed, so I thought it would be a good idea to offer my perspective on the anime, hoping that it can invoke some respect around. Since this is the section of the review I leave (specially) dedicated to self-indulgence, I’d like to talk about specific details about Erased that I really like: I like Satoru’s interactions with his mom as a child, showcasing that he still cared for her, even with the distance between them in his adult self; I like his interactions with his friends, both as a child and as an adult, when we can see the contrast their relationship takes; I like the lack of control Satoru has when talking as a child, showing the disconnect between his body and his mind; I like the meaning the title takes at the end of the series; I like the whimsical moments between Satoru and Hinazuki, which really drove home the meaning of his actions even at short term; I like the childishly awesome lines Satoru’s friends said; I like when he reads the text he had written as child, about his favorite hero; I like it, simple as that. With this review I don’t aim to change people’s opinions or scores about Erased (although if it leads more people to give the show a try it would be really cool!), I hope simply to showcase how this opinion in specific can be valid, because as minimalistic of a story as it was, it did something for me, and for that I appreciate it.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Mar 23, 2016 Recommended
Here is an attitude that tends to dishearten me a little: why are people so hostile to douchebag protagonists? Sure, if you are supposed to like or sympathize with an asshole it becomes a big turn off, as it makes the series hypocritical and morally bankrupt, like Zero no Tsukaima (I had to take that jab!), but when that is not the case, having a main lead with very visible flaws can give a very clear idea of a future character arc and make such lead a more interesting figure, That aside, what if the series is about none of that? What if the respective
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title is not so much a comedy of errors, but a comedy of wrong people? That is certainly a way of getting an easily likeable douche as your lead.
If you are not bored by the intro I just gave, allow me to tell you why “Kono Subarashii Sekai ni Shukufuku wo!”, or KonoSuba for short, is awesome and you should watch it. Story and Characters If you’ve been paying attention to the anime community at least in the last two years or so, you’re likely to have noticed a trend that has become infamous among light novel adaptations: an incredibly bland and overpowered main character, who blazes through the story effortlessly obliterating his enemies, while developing a harem for himself with the gravitational pole of his Mary Sue genitals. This trend is specially exemplified by titles like Sword Art Online, Asterisk Wars, Overlord, The Irregular at Magic Highschool, etc, and as much as it has been gathering very vocal hatred, it also seems reluctant to fade away. KonoSuba, in the other hand, seems to be a title crafted in diametric opposition to such trends, having a set up that is, on the most surface level possible, similar, but diverging highly in how it plays out. If you are curious about why I called this series a comedy of wrong people, it’s because none of the characters that receive the focus of the story is characterized as fit for the tasks they face and the plot itself doesn’t care about raising them as unlikely heroes, but instead on exploiting them in the silly RPG-like situations they find themselves into. KonoSuba is a parody in its simplest and most charming form: it’s not focused on big and over-the-top events that take the piss out of the genre by relying on absurdity, but it builds its narrative on small comedic events that stack up, creating multiple consistent punchlines that don’t cease being a part of the world the series created. From the giant frogs that lead the crew to find a new member, to the Succubus prostitutes that motivate the warriors to defend the city against overwhelming odds, every joke has an in-universe purpose. All that aside, let’s talk about the characters a bit. The main protagonist, Kazuma, is the unlucky male lead who got thrown into this phantasy world by his unwillingness to go to heaven and staying a virgin for the rest of eternity. Can’t blame the guy, I’d do the same in his place. Despite what I said in the introduction, Kazuma is not exactly a lead designed with the purpose of being unlikeable, although being still a snarky prick (I can actually relate to that!) and somewhat of a troll, with no shame on taking advantage of the situation in ways that lead to embarrassment to others. A former shut-in and the most frequent voice of reason of his group of air-heads, his situation of the world of KonoSuba is surprisingly relatable: he is constantly facing failure, with only occasional moments of success and hardly earned achievements to motivate him and his group to stay on the journey. Aqua is an idiot, and one of the best kind. Unlike other shows where the idiot of the bunch is only responsible for bringing misfortune to his colleagues and never becomes aware of how much their stupidity costs to others, Aqua faces first-hand the effects of her actions. Being the lovably greedy and selfish twat she is and desperate to get out of the world she got stuck in, Aqua is constantly making reckless decisions and engaging in equally ill-thought out actions, only to have Kazuma stop or save her, so that she can incur in the same mistakes again, in the vain attempt of getting some easy money and more confortable situation. The contrast of such egocentric behavior with her lack of wit and constant misfortune makes some of the best comedic takes of the series. Next is Megumi, the overly-confident, but hopelessly underprepared mage of the group. Prideful of her alleged “crimson demon” origins and unconditionally infatuated with explosive spells, the most powerful brand of offensive magic, she refuses to learn any other kind of spell, even though her body is clearly unprepared to handle such taxing kind of magic. The comedy of her character comes mostly from passing out whenever she unleashes her attacks, being made completely vulnerable against enemies and putting the burden of her protection on her colleagues. I now realized that this doesn’t sound funny at all, but trust me, in context in works wonders, especially in contrast with the already precarious state of her party. Lastly there’s Darkness, the noble swordswoman with high stats in offense and defense, but laughably low accuracy, which means she’ll be swinging that sword a lot, but rarely hitting anything besides the punch line. She is also a massive masochist, a trope that I’ve personally become very fond in recent times. She latches onto the party under the belief that Kazuma is a perverted sadist who mistreats and humiliates the other girls, essentially all she wants for herself. In the long run she ends up placing great trust on Kazuma, and the series even hints of a possible romantic development between them, although that is not completely reliable, being this also a harem style comedy. The meat of KonoSuba’s comedic energy (in simpler terms, the reason why it’s so funny) is its focus on the small moments. The comedy is not so much focused on slapstick, although that is also a significant portion of it, but in quick character reactions that stand on their respective quirks and flaws of personality: Aqua is an impatient, selfish idiot, so she is bound to react desperate and childish when the prospect of financial loss is near; Megumi is overly confident and stubborn, so she boasts her power just to fall flat on her face right after, in more ways than the literal one; Darkness is a masochist and gleefully enjoys her own pain even when embarrassingly trying to hide it. Kazuma, however, is the character that takes the most out of it. Being a snarky douche, he will often be confronted with the girl’s unwanted traits and react in ways to tangentially distance himself, like in the running gag: “Kazuma!” “Hi, Hi, Kazuma desu!” He is also quick to take advantage in the most fitting opportunity, like immediately attacking a knight when challenged to a fight where he is obviously disadvantaged, just to end it in a hilarious slapstick sequence. Huh, I might have killed that joke for anyone who has not watched it already! The series doesn’t slow down in such antics even as it dives into “decisive” battles and it plays its comedy as characters are about to face immense danger. When you think it’s about to attempt some misplaced drama, KonoSuba pull itself back again with a joke built upon the same scene, never fully attempting to be heavy and dramatic, a mistake that other less sharp parody series make far too often. Presentation One thing I have often discussed when talking about presentation is the importance of keeping consistency in character models, as it is the most glaring flaw for animation to incur and can be specially detracting to the purpose the scene wants to convey. In the case of KonoSuba, though, it’s somewhat of a pointless complaint to make, since this is one of the aspects the series relies on to drive its comedy. Many of the comedic takes focus on facial expression to emphasize characters reactions, so it’s not unusual for them to have distorted and exaggerated features. This also works in the fanservice shots, when boobs will bounce aimlessly, to the point of killing the sexual appeal and turning it into a joke itself. Possibly to match the watery feel of the expressions and designs, the color pallet is also very light, with clear shades of blue, green and yellow, for example. Costumes, in the other hand, are quite vibrant and distinguish immediately from the characters themselves. Another aspect that contributes greatly to the action and humor is the movement, very smooth and unhinged, which gives a constant sense of energy at play, helping take the most out of the comedic sequences. It’s actually surprising how little time goes by in the series without any movement happening on each frame. Sound-wise, the main cast is mostly composed of actors who have yet to reach the hundreds of roles played, with the exception of Kayano Ai, but nonetheless deliver their performances in stellar fashion. Not only being each one a perfect fit for their respective characters, both in tone and pitch, but their delivery solidly lands the jokes with precise timing. Special notes for Fukushima Jun (not Fukuyama, His Highness is yet to appear in this universe), who portrays Kazuma and never misses the point with the characters, both in his detached “I’m not even part of this group” demeanor, as in his mischievous moments. Personal Ramblings Humor is a very subjective part of fiction, so it’s hardly ever possible to say that something is objectively not funny. I believe however, it is possible to debate to some extent whether something is good comedy or not. That can be argue not only on the matter of “does it make the audience laugh?”, but also on how is the set up established, is the humor random or streamlined, do the characters stay consistent in their roles, does the writing ever descend into low brow humor, and if yes, does it treat the audience as at least intelligent people, and so forth. These aspect are, of course, open to subversion, depending on the writers talent to pull it off. Not many shows are able to make comedy out of incompetence without offering some balance. Most commonly, they will focus most of the punch lines on very specific characters while at the same time offering one as the trump card to solve conflict. What makes KonoSuba so endearing is its ability to make all of the characters into irreplaceable components of the jokes, without diminishing the value of any of them in the context of its universe. As much as the main party is overall composed of incompetent misfits to work out the comedy, they are all also important for the progression, even if accidentally. Well, perhaps better off accidentally, as it makes for even more outrageous outcomes, constantly adding up to the fun. KonoSuba’s crew of incompetent loonies may not be the best folks around when it comes to defeating the Demon King, but they sure were the best to turn a generic adventure into such an endearing trip to a world that is perhaps as wonderful as the title implies.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Feb 26, 2016
Koukyoushihen Eureka Seven
(Anime)
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Besides poking fun at Christianity, one genre that seems to be a writing gold mine for anime is the coming-of-age tale. Taking a character who is in their teens, a period where they start to shape themselves to soon ingress into adulthood, and make them face reality in its different shades up until they become completely rounded figures is a setup that offers a vast range of opportunities for writers. The deal is that, the main character being a kid or a pre-teen, you can make them as immature as you can get away without making the audience hate the little twerp and slowly improve
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them into a better person. Also, being animation such a versatile media, you can deliver as much of that development in one full season without having to deal with the difficulties of live-action.
So, which one is the best coming-of-age story in anime? Of course, that is not a question with definitive answer, if any question in regards to art is, but I’d like to offer my pick for the best one I watched so far: Eureka Seven. Story and Characters Eureka Seven (E7 for short) caps at 50 episodes, which is by no means a shy length for any series. Any anime packing that number of episodes can be an absolute chore to sit through if it doesn’t offer the content to hold the viewer and enough quality-development to justify its size. Luckily there’s no shortage of either for this series. During its running time, E7 builds its fantastic world and addresses multiple character arcs and themes, from religious conflict to environmentalism, leaving very little to be fully explained, and even in these cases it’s not anything that represents a driving force of the plot. Before we talk about that, though, let’s discuss the characters. Renton, the main protagonist, is unusually relatable for a character of this kind of story. He is immature, sure, but also displays grounded morals and is, at least initially, driven by an adventurous spirit. Being the son of the late hero responsible for saving the world, Adroc Thuerston, he would have some pretty big shoes to fill, however, Renton doesn’t really want to deal with that kind of responsibility. Like many other teenagers, he wants simply to enjoy his younger years dedicating himself to his hobby and expanding his horizons, which primarily motivates him to join Gekkostate. That would lead him to face a reality much harsher than what he was originally prepared for and forces him to strengthen his ideals in order to push himself through the struggles he faces. So, yeah, Renton is amazing, quote me on that. The titular Eureka is Renton’s love interest for the story and the center of many conflicts both in the overall plot, as well as the tension between Renton and Holland. While not exactly emotionless, she has difficulty properly dealing with the emotions she slowly develops, and Renton plays a big role in leading her to understand how to better interact with others. She is naturally kind-mannered and loyal, but when it comes to dealing with failure or regret, more complex feelings ion general, she has significantly harder time processing those emotions. Holland is the leader of Gekkostate, a cool figure outside, but a very contrasting person for those who get to know him closely. Jealous, easily angered, unusually immature and quick to lash out against weaker characters who dare to upset him, most of the time Renton and frequently with violence, he is possibly the one that goes through the most sizeable development in the series, and a very positive one. That development though, takes some time to manifest, so while he acts like an absolute asshole, don’t be surprised if you find yourself enjoying his suffering. I sure did. Talho is the main pilot of Gekkostate and Holland’s lover. Being the only person who Holland accepts to have challenging him, she is the main agent to his development, but before that happens she is also forced to grow and properly understand her role in the group. Charles Beams, along with his wife, Ray, is one of the antagonists, appearing mid-run in the anime. Even though he is technically placed on the “bad guys” side, he is still a very honored, responsible and loyal figure, which is why he plays a big role in Renton’s development. He is also Eureka Seven’s embodiment of MANLINESS. Seriously, I bet the guy had chest hair when he was 8. Dewey is Holland’s older brother and the main antagonist for the series. Initially very mysterious, his motivations seem to fluctuate as the anime goes on, up until they are properly revealed and sadly place him among the “Destroy the World” kind of villain, the least compelling kind. That was the only meaningful issue I was able to find in the series: villains of this category hardly ever work, and in cases they do work they often go for the type that is so crazy it doesn’t matter or so powerful that destroying the world isn’t a big deal for them. Dewey is mostly portrayed as a collected and calculating individual, so this motivation is all the more out-of-place. Lastly, there are Dominic and Anemone. Their role in the story is to serve as a parallel to Renton and Eureka’s relationship, but at the side of the antagonists, for the most part. Ok, tackling the coming-of-age aspect first, Renton’s development is triggered mostly by the use of an interesting contrast: without giving too much away, halfway through the series he gets separated from the Gekkostate, who at this point were not the most responsible folks to serve as an example. While in their company, it was difficult to side against him, as there was a clear lack of proper orientation from the crew. The point where they get separated is the moment his character-arc truly starts to shine, it’s the moment when he’s able to do his biggest mistakes and witness the impact they have. As an effect of that, Renton begins to develop higher respect for other’s resolve, as well as the importance of keeping himself loyal to the responsibilities he takes. When he finally reunites with the Gekkostate, he is better prepared to face the challenges they would find up ahead. His development doesn’t stop there, however, as there’s much work to be done in his relationship with Eureka and the strengthening of his values, but that is something you should witness on your own. In Eureka’s case, the development kicks in early on, since it’s not so much focused on maturing but in learning to deal with issues she was never forced to deal with in her blank-slate condition. Due to Renton’s influence, not only over her but also the Nirvash, she begins to be exposed to feelings she was not used to, not all of them positive. During the boy’s absence, she starts to understand that the reason why she misses him might be romantic feelings and the sudden need for his companionship also plays a huge part on forcing Holland to mature himself. All of this makes for deeply dynamic characterization, as in Eureka Seven characters don’t simply decide to change or shift on a whim depending on plot convenience (No, I’ll not make a “cough, cough” joke!), they influence each other, stumble, hurt themselves and make amendments, the way well-written interaction is supposed to do. The side-characters in the other hand have fairly straight personalities and stay pretty much the same along the series. Is that a problem? No. Keep that in mind, folks: a large cast doesn’t mean everyone should receive in-depth development, some characters are nice the way they are, just adding some flavor to the series Now, when learning that a series tackles subjects like religious conflict or environmentalism, many people would be immediately put off, in fear that it might end up featuring very preachy writing. Eureka Seven, however, gracefully avoids this trap. The subjects in question are all swiftly introduced as the plot progresses, and now and then play their role in the story by being naturally integrated in the arc, without any moralism being spelled out by anyone in ham-fisted manner. The environmental aspect, for once, is not directly brought up, but subtly conveyed throughout the series, as it’s an integral part of the overarching plot, and the series manages to do such a thing even as these themes become ever more present in the story. By the end, it’s not hard to grasp how such elements are a natural component of the world presented in the anime. Presentation By the Gods, that looks beautiful! Ok, professionalism dictates I have to be more specific. Made in 2005 by Studio Bones, Eureka Seven is, to this day, one of the best looking anime ever made. Bones is a studio used to make anime where characters are realistically proportioned, but still retain anime-like features and that allows them to have distinct expressions. You will hardly find a relevant character that expresses in the same manner as the others, tying perfectly with their personalities and demeanors. With the exception of some episodes of minor importance, like the soccer episode, the figures show steady consistency in their character models, retaining natural proportion even when seen from a distance. This is often the animation issue that is most noticeable in other works, but E7 manages to avoid it and deliver stellar animation with beautifully fluid movement without losing its consistency and detail. Character designs are striking and memorable. They follow the seinen logic of packing details that by themselves are nothing special, but when placed together form a design that is at the same time harmonic and distinct. Now, all of that aside, the real kicker that makes the series such a visual marvel is its use of colors. From the character designs, both human and mechs, to the machinery, the effects and explosions, E7 always brings the most vibrant and impactful colors. The shining green of the trapar waves, the perfectly toned shades of orange used for the sunset, the lightly flavored natural environments and even pink-colored explosions, everything immediately pops out on the screen, and coupled with the sharp use of lighting, it drives perfectly the mood of the scene, be it action or just moments of important dialogue. When you consider that alongside the number of episodes and characters, it only makes the work Bones displayed all the more impressive. There is nothing I can complain in regards to the visuals that doesn’t boil down to nitpick, as the overall package is consistently pleasing. Eureka Seven’s soundtrack has its fair share of exciting, blood-pumping tracks to help make the action all the more energetic and even some to evoke a grandiose feeling, but what stands out the most are its emotional pieces. They come in at the exact moment to make you know that you’re about to watch a meaningful moment of character interaction or to highlight development that is about to happen. If you don’t find these tracks memorable, better look for a medic, you might have faulty memory or be lacking a heart. On the voice acting department (Japanese, off course), the most notable detail is Renton’s seyiuu, Sanpei Yuuko. Renton is another teenage-boy played by a female. Let that information sink in for a minute: does the acting, at any moment, denounce that the character is not played by a man? This is without a doubt the most convincing case of a female seyiuu playing a male role I’ve ever seen and can easily dethrone Paku Romi or Takeuchi Junko in this category. Not to say that the rest of the cast doesn’t range from solid to excellent. Fujiwara Keiji plays Holland, so if you are familiar with his work you know there’s no worry and Nazuka Kaori’s portrayal of Eureka reflects with no problem the image of a girl learning to process newly-found emotions, while maintaining a sweet vibe to her acting. Personal Ramblings Now, there’s an aspect I’d like to comment on this section specifically. Eureka Seven has some of those moments you could call “shounen moments”, where the logic is made to obey more the emotions the characters are facing at the time and the ones the anime wants to pull out of the viewer, then the internal rules established in the story. This might be just my bias speaking, as I have a soft spot for the shounen genre myself, but I believe these instances enhance the series instead of detracting from it. Sure, they may seem corny to some, but not just of logic you build a cathartic and fulfilling story, emotion is also important and as long as it doesn’t stretch believability beyond what the audience was accustomed to give, or contradicts other rules of the setting, I say “go for it”. If WattheWut doesn’t mind me borrowing his rating system for a while, Eureka Seven is a Must Watch. Sure, this review might not have convinced you, as I spent little time dissecting how the story unfolds, but trust me, it’s better that you experience that for yourself. Safe to say, I believe this series uses with effect its runtime, as there was a lot to be handled and the manner in which it did was very solid, paced out with no issue. You can call Eureka Seven a perfectly rounded series: it has a tightly fleshed out world with a story that fully utilizes its setting and dynamic, likeable and developed characters, fitting without a problem the universe they live in. I’m running out of things to say, so go watch the anime.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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