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Hell Target is a B-movie horror OVA that is an odd mixture of Alien, The Thing, and Solaris, with a bleak cosmic horror ending. There's often an eye-roll-inducing debate when it comes to horror, whether to show the monster or not. Well, it depends. Showing or not showing has a different impact and neither is necessarily better, but not showing tends to be better when you have limited resources because showing can look laughable, which is actually the case for a few parts in Hell Target. The dream sequence in the beginning is decently effective for its silhouette and composition-based abstraction. one of the first ... deaths comes from some kind of large canine or feline creature, and the scene looks cheesy, and we would have benefited from not showing at this point. Usually the first few deaths, it's better to maintain suspense as to what exactly we're dealing with. Of course, HT has the advantage over a lot of horror that its entity is effectively formless, much like Solaris and The Thing. The former constitutes a purely psychological, perhaps even spiritual, horror, drawing from the fears, dreams, and ambitions of the mind, though the entity or force in question is not strictly good, evil, or even hostile. The latter is more materialistic in the way it is conceived and how the monster will incorporate various creatures into its body for all kinds of strange, twisted special effects.

The translation is clearly poor at a few parts, with one part in particular not making sense; there are two different translations I've seen, but both are quite similar at this part, leading me to believe the problem might be in the original script, but who knows? Something about telepathy and "They use brainwaves to create a virtual image, to confuse and kill us." How do they know this to be true? There doesn't seem to be much info at all to work with. And if that's true, how do they see the "virtual image" on the camera? Shouldn't it be something only the person affected sees? The cameras aren't directly connected to their brains. I wouldn't say this is a spoiler, and it's probably best going into this title understanding the kind of horror it is; incidentally, the synopsis on here hilariously reveals that everyone dies except the (sort of) MC and that his mission is to kill the entity before a third ship arrives.

What this title actually is is a psychological horror, where the thoughts of the characters affect the form of whatever entity (or entities) is roaming around the planet. Perhaps it's not even so much an entity as something pertaining to the atmosphere and nature of the planet itself. There is one scene where the entity takes a form, seemingly without the input of any human, but even that might have been from the character patrolling the hallways at the time, but it's somewhat questionable as to whether every person would see something different pertaining to their psychology, so I think a better, more coherent choice would be to create a little bit more mystery, removing the first death from being recorded on the camera and not showing that scene I referenced above.

The atmosphere in HT is quite strong, and the animation is surprisingly decent, given that so many people will simply say it's dated and bad. Not much of it is exceptional, but I was surprised to find that the aesthetic mostly worked out, and there was more enjoyment to be had than one solid explosion scene from the great Toshiaki Hontani. The valkyrie scene and several others were also decently animated, and there was rarely anything so poorly done from an art and animation standpoint as to elicit laughter, other than the slideshow animation of the "bird deity." There's even some okay background animation and simulated camera movements here and there. True to it's B-horror form, there are lots of cool gorey death scenes, a fairly bare bones, no-nonsense script, but punctuated by out of place scenes, such as one guy saying, "I hope I'll get a chance to take a piss before I die," or a couple suddenly ending up in bed, having sex in a pastel soft-focus scene with shojo sparkles, and sweet talking each other, right in the middle of the crew being massacred and a bloodthirsty entity wandering around. Enhancing the grimy feel of the OVA is the horrendous quality, with the production both greatly needing a remaster and perhaps being better for the lack of it, with everything a bit fuzzy and grainy, adding to the disorientation of the often crimson-monochrome and Martain-like hell scape they inhabit, along with numerous shaky closeups when they are running from or firing at the entity, the occasional out of focus shot, characters swallowed by the outer darkness, scenes lit by only harsh flashlight beams, and many minimalist composition choices. It actually doesn't look bad, with maybe the main detractor being fairly generic human character design and the various forms the entity takes maybe being too out there in some cases or not having a disturbing enough design.

What comes across as actually a fairly average film is most burdened by a painfully dull cast. Most of these characters don't even register as distinct archetypes, have few lines of dialogue, have no development, and hardly any characterization. The problem with this being a psychological horror is that you kind of need characters that resemble something above a husk for decent psychological elements. We have to known something about these characters and what makes them who they are. I don't remember any important information from the dialogue. We know a few people by their role, such as the captain and doctor. One guy is a flirt. One girl has a crush on one guy. The most Nordic-looking cast member sees the entity as a Valkyrie. Another character sees it as a "bird deity" probably in reference to Amerindian religion. Apparently, the MC is afraid of spiders. There's even a missed opportunity where one of the girls is being carried by the entity, and one might think the man who desires her influenced the entity in this respect, but he is not involved with this scene at all. The only effective toying with psychological states would be during the ending, when the MC sees something he shouldn't, and during a lengthy flashback scene for one of the characters. This flashback is intriguing but ultimately lacking enough context to be especially meaningful, serving to do nothing other than to confirm that the entity knows your every thought and can conform itself to match what will haunt you. Yet the scene is a fine example of what the film should strive to work with—memory and internal states—but seldom exploits it to any real depth. What made Alien thrive is that the characters were given more room to be distinguished, had firmer archetypes, better character writing, and the film was a decent length to explore characters and themes, running at 1 hour and 57 minutes, whereas we barely get even 50 minutes with our hollow cast in Hell Target.

In a certain sense, Death Parade is like a possibly better-written BokuraNO!, or at least somewhat more engaging in its attempt at a visceral—if not soap-operatic—appeal, made all the better since DP has a non-expendable core cast and an expendable secondary cast. Only there's a different manipulative psychological twist: "Let's play a game." This is almost the Saw franchise of seinentard realism, just without Rube Goldbergisms, fully loaded squibs, and gutter-Hollywood schlock. The first episode, though maybe not as complex as later entries, is among the better ones because we're thrown head-first into the game without any explanation.

You probably know what's going to happen from ... reading the synopsis, but there is a mildly sinister feel to the casual bar atmosphere, and we've yet to be acquainted with how the judgment process works. Now, take all of these dramatic twists and turns, and we'll repeat a back-and-forth morality play for nearly each episode with a new set of Bokuranos (meaning disposable characters who are around for only one or a couple episodes), exploring themes, situations, and moral conundrums more than characters. While some of the scenarios are more compelling than others, it's easy to get a sense of claustrophobia from being tucked inside of the bar for so many deliberations. The Bokuranos are either directly connected, have overlapping moral issues or situations, are complementary, or opposites.

Although an aesthetic nitpick, I wish this could have had a more Japanese aesthetic for the judgment process rather than these cheap bar games. Talk about degrading. "We're not sure what fate you should have, so maybe you'd like to play Street Fighter II, and we'll be unfair fucks and see how you react." Sometimes the games are a bit fairer, but they'll do things like pair a single mother and a shut-in and have them play video games; obviously, the latter is going to be better at this, which is going to cause frustration for the former because there is the presumption that they have to win the game or something terrible will happen. In this instance, the single mother has responsibilities like kids and didn't commit suicide, while the gamer shut-in offed himself, so here is an example where many characters have a lot to lose and others have no real concern (somewhat ameliorated by the selective memories at least). It also doesn't look at societal problems with any real depth, since our Bokuranos barely get 20 minutes to strut their stuff, though sometimes they might get two whole episodes. On top of that, the characters are disoriented and thrust into a world they don't understand. There is reason to be suspicious and afraid. Their memories are selectively inserted or removed. The setup will not be a good match for certain personality types and temperaments. Everything is stacked against all participants in such a way that you should expect them to not be on their best behavior; hence, it comes across as overly cruel and manipulative. Although anyone watching this probably already felt manipulated by the maudlin piano and downpour of tears and snot that occur nearly every episode. The bar needs to keep around a box of Kleenex, as it's disgusting to behold!

The system of judgments determining the fate of the characters is silly and based on minimal information for those handling the deliberations. The story does critique the arbitrary nature of the process and has a "We've got to change the system, man" subplot, which never goes anywhere because the series didn't get a second season thus far. This critique still doesn't make the concept any more palatable for a series, and the whole thing seems so overly asinine as to have been a practical joke to have ever been implemented as a system at all. Or D-g is just doing it for the lulz because it gets boring to play games of pool for eternity with lolibaba. As with most moralistic series, judgments are usually made in a preachy way. They take what is an abstract concept of how death is handled with the void or reincarnation and concretize it with bureaucratic autism. Something is lost in the process, rendering the series hollow in execution and wholly inorganic.

Now that I have more distance from the series. I have to imagine re-watching this, and seeing them play through the games again in each of these scenarios is a terrible chore. And that is a necessary evaluation of any media you consume. Would I be willing to rewatch it and does the formula it presents only work for one watch and would forevermore be monotonous and less appealing after the prior exposure? Sure, if I were a fan of a 1,000 episode series, I would probably only watch it once because that is a huge time sink, but that's not the same as it being worth watching again. Even at a measly and very bingeable 12 episodes, I feel Death Parade has minimal replay value. Everything about the way they work through the games is so artificial and boring. There are tonal clashes all over the place, whether it's the cancerous OP's undiluted barf fuel, the trashy game of Twister, the red-headed tsundere punk, the cheesy old man with the Hawaiian shirt and ratty top-knot, the sassy character design, the stinky comedy bits, or the "deep" exploration of the inner workings and subtleties of the death game system, which I couldn't care less about. Also, speaking of out of place, a fight scene between Ginti and Decim? What is the point? There aren't any other fight scenes and it felt like the series randomly decided to turn into a battle shonen, featuring flashy attacks that are completely useless for any other purpose.

The main and supporting cast aren't much better than the disposable Bokuranos. Decim is particularly wooden and creepy, just like his BJD collection. Most of them are one-dimensional or solely for forwarding the plot. The various arcs involving different characters are a mixed bag, with some being better than others, yet Onna's development and the emotions on display are often handled decently enough and probably the only thing that had a lasting impact, for she is pretty much a bewildered stand-in for the viewer, sharing the same repulsion to the system but being trapped inside of this hopeless box of a world and judged all the same. The world-building for the one and only area (along with a couple other big rooms) we inhabit is lackluster and has no real presence. Not much is explained, and what is explained doesn't really matter. There's no indication that there will be another season to complete the series, and the presentation of the story is rushed and unsatisfying in the same way as many of the sadly flawed OVAs of the 1980s and 1990s' era of anime.

Like Hell's Paradise, Dandadan gets a lot of attention amongst recent shonens because both authors were former assistants to Chainsaw Man's Tatsuki Fujimoto and there are some mildly novel touches: HP has an unusual setting and, yeah, that's probably about it; meanwhile, Dandadan, well, uh... is basically a battle shonen that takes the standard otaku-pandering incel romance you'd find in school-based romcoms and pushes it into becoming the ultimate piss-take snub of self-insert pandermancy and cuck romance shippers that has increasingly become the norm in anime. There's a lot of humor, and almost all the punchlines hit below the belt, which probably won't go well ... for those who aren't too keen on lowbrow jokes centering around, in this case, dick jokes—"Give me your banana" (please don't). The whole series is simply one humongous dick joke (likely a petite one, if we're talking about the MC and his 5 cm kintamas that just dropped), and there probably isn't any other kind of media that sorely needed this passionate kick to the nuts more. The series effectively plays a savage South Park-styled game of Roshambo with self-inserters, as Dandadan's motto when it comes to our MC is "Give us your balls, your dick, we'll make you a eunuch." If you're not "too mature" for a few dick jokes, it can be amusing, but other attempts at humor aren't as smoothly integrated, such as milking the "I finally noticed she's cute" trope.

What might appear at first to be a mere acknowledgement of the average anime functioning as a feel-good waifubait simulator for unwashed otakus who skitter about in the shadows, where a 10/10 moeblob who is way out of his league will throw herself upon him without any effort, for she has seen his true inner beauty and manages to look past surface details like BO, and he'll sweep her off her feet, whispering arcane lore into her ear about the intricate plot developments of the final arc of LotGH, becomes a surprisingly hilarious mockup of these kind of series. Instead of just making jokes about being neutered or spayed or presenting a pathetic low-t dweeb with his balls in the usual vice-grip, the series literally emasculates him by having almost the entire plot revolve around a high-speed chase to recover his stolen family jewels, with his dutiful gyaru love interest checking every nook and cranny, searching high and low, to recover his missing balls! In a way, it almost resembles a demented sexual misadventure version of Dragon Balls, with various characters vying for control of the protagonist's balls, which grant them power! One episode is even titled "Like, Where Are Your Balls?" The thing about a lot of shonen is that that's often one of my burning questions about the protagonist, but Dandadan does its own ball count, allowing one to save valuable mental energy.

While not especially deep and just as accessible as most shonen, Dandadan at least foregoes one of the mistakes of its mature™ seasonal peer, Orb: My God Heliocentrism, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?, a series so inept as to pose the question "DUUUUHHH, what be subtext?" and then proceeds to turn all of its subtext into straight-up dialogue and double down on making sure the audience doesn't miss a single thing. Dandadan at least doesn't feel the need to shamelessly go balls deep down that scandalous hole (kind of hard when they're missing), even if it's waving its influences right in our face in the same way an exhibitionist might flash his private parts. To get the balls rolling, there is blatant influence from the Egyptian Osiris myth (which also influenced Dionysus and various other repackaged gods and syncretized religions). The MC can be seen as Osiris and the FMC as Isis. Seth kills and dismembers Osiris, splitting his body into 14 pieces (in reference to the Orion constellation), leading to what could be referred to as the Mystery of the Missing Phallus (sometimes Mystery of the Missing Balls in the case of Dandadan, though the Phallus gets misplaced often as well). Each piece of Osiris has a partial amount of power, much as a few characters in Dandadan unlock dormant powers by fondling one of the MC's golden balls. Isis tracks down all the pieces of Osiris, except for the phallus, which was eaten by either a fish or crab, depending on which version of the story you read, with Turbo Granny being associated with a crab. Isis reconstructs the body, and there are different accounts of what happens: She usually uses her powers to craft him a new penis, fashions a foreign object into one, or even constructs a literal lady boner out of her own flesh and grafts it onto Osiris. Soon after, they give birth to Horus. Since she's a dickball stealer, Turbo Granny could loosely be seen as a Seth-like character, and there is even a part in the legend where Horus and Seth race each other on boats, much like how she challenges tunnel trespassers to a race; though she does have a more interesting dynamic with the main characters in this story, starting as an enemy, becoming a comic relief mascot, and maybe even something like a friend, though always scheming, not unlike Ekubo/Dimple from Mob Psycho 100. There's also, of course, the fixation on occultism and the sky (aliens), with the ancients being deeply invested in the sky and many of their practices now falling under what we call the occult. Anyway, this lengthy digression is meant to showcase that the author put a surprising amount of effort into presenting his NTR fetish.

Admittedly, some of the cuck pandering can become hardcore, even cringe-inducing. At first, it doesn't seem all that heavy because after the alien-obsessed MC and the ghost/supernatural-believing FMC send each other off on a dare, the series plays out like a balls to the wall boss rush for several episodes, as the characters try to harness their powers and are attacked by one enemy after another. But once we finally have some downtime, like in episode 5, the MC goes back to his pity party lines, hoping his mommy—I mean, waifu—will save him. When the MC transforms he'll do some kind of clownish self-deprecating rap, but then he'll be moping at school and dropping lines like, "Is it so embarrassing to be friends with me? WAAAAAAH!" There's also an over-reliance on downer internal monologues around this time, and during the oddly synchronized yin-yangish bit between the couple, she'll be thinking stuff like, "Ungh, I'm so bored. I wish Okarun would teach me all about aliens, especially the anal probing part. *____*" Feels ridiculously pandering and almost out of tune with the blue balls pit that the show tends to dive headfirst into otherwise. That aspect of the series feels better motivated or smoother in earlier episodes. Of course, once we realize his balls are missing, his pathetic behavior kind of seems justified. You have to wonder if the author planned it a bit where the MC is subtly more or less pathetic depending on those circumstances. Probably not, but using his balls as a plot device allows material that would be far more embarrassing in other anime to roll far more smoothly here. It's also worth noting that the MC is not a total doormat and will insult the FMC when she insults him, instead of just taking abuse, like too many MCs for me to name.

Thankfully, Crappa, the most hardcore corner-cutters in the industry, having churned out Chainsaw Man, Jujutsu Kaisen, Hell's Paradise, and many other extremely popular shonen in the last few years, didn't get their grimy hands on this series. I had read up to about episode 2-3 in the Dandadan manga back when it had first surged in popularity, and, while it seemed alright, there wasn't anything about it that kept me reading it over whatever else. Science SARU, handling the series instead, is a company that tends to have impressive animation or a distinct aesthetic but has put out a lot of mediocre or questionable titles and has been disconcertingly cozy with Netflix. One of their biggest manga adaptations a while back, Devilman: Crybaby, was a travesty for quite a few fans of Go Nagai's work or the earlier OVAs and probably not to the liking of those who were more interested in SARU for artsier titles either, like Inu-Ou. But SARU were actually a great choice for adapting Dan, appearing to be faithful where it counts, and featuring far more lively animation than we can usually hope to get from most seasons, with the first episode being quite inventive and even "trippy," and the chase with the crab having a frenetic energy, as they run around and swing across buildings, struggling to survive. There are some disappointing stills that are occasionally used and expected dips in quality from time to time, but how polished it generally is is an indicator that SARU might actually be able to pull off the dream of adapting decent commercial work with their own unique style to generate revenue, while creating more artistic and experimental work along the way, as seemed to be the intention back when Masaaki Yuasa founded the company. This is an adaptation that mostly elevates the material, though there is a dubious ghettoization habit on display, which SARU has likely developed from being so close to Netflix (see the oddly placed rap in Japan Stinks 2020 and Devilman: Crybaby), rendering the audio component less than satisfactory.

As far as CGI anime productions go, Exception is no exception and has a fair number of hiccups and oddities. However, the way they've chosen to frame this project is more effective than the average CGI series, even amongst those with a comparatively vast budget. The frame-rate may be "off" compared to 2D animation, and there is still the unnatural computer game look and stiffness, especially the hair models, but the character art and set designs stand out. It's also probably worth noting that some people have found they enjoy Exception and some other CGI anime with frame-rate issues more when they upped the speed ... slightly to 1.5x. This is not how I experienced the series, but it may help smooth things out with minimal impact to the pacing or dialogue distortion, though this caveat not only places emphasis upon a serious aesthetic flaw, I doubt it's much of a fix.

This production is more concerned with a philosophical sci-fi plot and character writing, somewhat minimizing the awkward movements. Unfortunately, early episodes do have a few fights with the monster, and later episodes have more elaborate choreography and flipping around, with characters constantly shifting alliances and giving mercy, much to the detriment of their plans, over and over. Additionally, there are some silly elements when it comes to the lurking threat of the monster and any attempts to hunt him down. One character takes him on with a measly pool stick! Characters split up or wander around without weapons, despite the ease with which the creature could maul them. At one point, they 3D print a hammer to use as a tool, and the tension is heightened by the lack of real weapons and intentional design limitations of the 3D printer that prevents them from being able to defend themselves well. Many of these choices often forego the film's strengths and instead pushes the rough CGI to its limits. The series is a more philosophical Alien clone at first, but it quickly becomes a predictable Among Us whodunnit, then goes full-on-ecocuck suspense thriller, complete with the saboteur pulling a 180, cackling madly, like a scheming, unhinged Bond villain. This person had idealistic motives but is tediously framed as borderline insane and evil, having not really bonded with the other characters to elicit emotion. It's not even particularly hard to narrow down whodunnit. Although this is a thoughtful reboot of the basic idea with various sci-fi gimmicks to differentiate itself, the less convoluted Alien is the much stronger and more polished work, aging better than Exception could ever hope to say for itself in the coming decades.

For the sci-fi themes, we're dealing with consciousness and questions of what makes us who we are. There are existential questions about what it means to be human when you're effectively expendable and your next 3D-printed clone is right around the corner. If you're using genetic material to cobble together humans who presumably once existed and had memories, and you imparted those memories, are they the same person? What if you end up printing them again? Or if you have two copies but one is misprinted and so on. Alongside the main thematic content, there's also terraforming and an effort for humanity to colonize the galaxy or other parts of the universe, as well as corporate themes similar to Alien. Nothing too original or necessarily exquisitely executed, but it's interesting enough in tandem with a sort of striking but heavily flawed aesthetic.

The main reason the series got much attention was because of Yoshitaka Amano, who is famous for his character designs and artwork, but few anime have managed to truly capture his elegant designs. Angel's Egg is one of the few, but that was an oddity of the 1980's OVA boom and a short production. Quite a few other projects Amano worked on required the character designs to be simplified; notably, Gibiate listed him as a "character designer," but the final product looked nothing like his work, and that's because the studio was working on a low budget and couldn't feasibly animate Amano's designs. Most of the best commercial work Amano has committed to would probably be static designs that you would see in earlier Final Fantasy games, Kartia, novel covers, comics, etc.

Admittedly, Amano's designs might have gone too far, as some of them look more akin to fantasy characters or court jesters than anything you'd expect in a sci-fi, especially Oscar and Mack. I chuckled when a flashback had Lewis and Mack wearing suits, as they looked so out of place with the series' visual design! But from looking at the lavishly constructed and decorative corridors, vivid colors, and the organic-looking dragon junk (in reference to a Chinese seafaring vessel), which is similar to some of the old concept art for aborted film projects of Frank Herbert's Dune, one can argue that the character designs fit perfectly. The females, Mack, and the monster-version of Lewis are the most effective designs when it comes to portraying Amano's vision; Oscar's prominent jowls, lard-ass shape, puke-colored attire, and bulky-diaper crotch render him as almost too grotesque. Non-mutated Lewis is a little bland and looks especially goofy in the idyllic scenes, brimming with sunlight.

Other than the possibility of a high budget 2D animation, I actually think 3D is a nice avenue for Amano's designs and other similarly elegant ones that don't lend themselves well to traditional animation. The art direction and setting is strong, and I'd suspect Amano had a hand in that as well, or they were inspired by his past design work when it comes to establishing the setting, as there is a lot of similarity to what I've seen from his concept art and comics. For an easy reference, his Final Fantasy 6 concept art is similar, just less monochrome and intensely colored. Additionally, the recently deceased Ryuichi Sakamoto provides a fitting, though somewhat bland, ambient score, often synergizing well with the intended mood.

By anime standards, Orb: On the Movements of This Series into the Garbage Can has a unique story and setting. There are, unsurprisingly, not a whole lot of medieval European period piece mangas out there—set in 15th century Poland in this case—and even fewer of those get adapted, except for the more popular action-packed or fantasy-based ones rather than old school (a)historical fiction, with realistic situations, no magic or monsters, and plenty of moral quandaries and philosophical musings.

Certain characters or events seem loosely based on figures such as the Italians Giordano Bruno or Galileo Galilei, who are associated with astronomy and dabbled in a ... number of other things, with the former finding himself knee-deep in a grab-bag of "heresies" that put him at odds with the tyrannical church inquisitors and led to him being burnt at the stake. Here, too, there will be many heretics sizzling like bacon, a smell as sweet as charming quotes from the bible, such as "happy is the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks." The characters navigate through a society not at all dissimilar from a tattletale spook state like Soviet Russia, doing a convincing job of making Christianity look like a forerunner of communism.

The focus on proving heliocentrism in a world of geocentric orthodoxy, enforced by ruthless inquisitors of the church, makes for a fearsome clash of worldviews, and there are thriller, even quasi-spy, elements on display that could be plumbed for added tension, though the formula chosen by the author inevitably curbs what could be exciting and compelling. The ideas explored place this story within history, though many liberties are taken albeit maybe too few. However, emphasis must be placed on Orb as a science/philosophy-based drama series influenced by history rather than being historical fiction. There are already solemn tears being shed over "historical inaccuracies," yet the author seems to have set the series in Poland with no references to location or significant dates, doesn't feature any of the famous astronomers, and is using all original characters and events. The author realized there was a perception that the church heavily persecuted heliocentrism and saw an intriguing story to tell. While the church was prone to censorship or authoritarian measures in a number of ways, they were not burning people at the stake for heliocentrism. Yes, there were executions related to heresy, but they were usually theologically rooted. This is fiction, the basic dynamic and how it's influenced by history makes for a potentially good story, and critiquing it based on historical inaccuracies is simply poor criticism. Besides, the more important point should be how hard this series fails as entertaining fiction or as an artistic achievement.

Orb is, at heart, a Monster-like mature™ series in the seinentard realism school of anime: "Wow, no waifus, lolis, no cheeky tsunderes to treat me like a doormat, nor any other deres in sight (let alone women, so far... quite the sausage fest), no tropes, no rainbow hair, and no shonen shining justice fingering. The characters are contemplative and ask probing questions about existence. omg, omg, this is so deep." With the bland character art, blonde main in the first arc, the extra dopey character Oczy, and medieval European setting, I also thought of Crappa's near-slideshow Vinland Saga S2, yet Madhouse, apparently having tucked all their cash under Frieren's bra strap, is more stingy here with their seasonal budget, out crapping even Crappa!

To compare Orb to other series and give a better impression of what it's like, there's the red flag tone and philosophical nature of both Monster and Vinland Saga S2, but further aspects can be illuminated with the inclusion of the medieval manga Wolfsmund and the adapted Fumetsu no Anata e and Bokura NO More Cryporn, Mommy, Please! Orb is, of course, not cryporn by any stretch, as there is a way of engaging with death and the world that questions where meaning is derived from and whether or not there is an afterlife. There is often a detachment from the material world and the hope of salvation in the hereafter, with many characters questioning or doubting the potentiality of the latter and becoming nihilistic. From this state of despair, some of these characters, having bumped around like blind beggars, lost within the dark corridors of their copypasta medieval town, find the glorious light of our lord and savior Heliocentrism or some other truth, hidden away by the big mean bad men of the church.

The reason to address the last few series above is because they feature a large cast of barely developed characters who are killed off every arc, much like Orb. There's an inspirational quality to Orb, with the main character not so much being a human but instead an idea, a representation of the indomitable "spirit of man," yearning for truth. This "spirit" inhabits each rotating individual or cast of characters as if they were mere vessels, selflessly passing on knowledge and ambition to the next empty vessel(s) and filling them with the Divine Spark of Heliocentrism. There's a similarity to this setup that harkens back to Fumetsu no Anata e, which possesses a lot of the same problems.

Similarly, Wolfsmund is an apt comparison not only due to the medieval setting and backdrops, but there are a number of ways to interpret the often vague, skeletal stories, featuring numerous groups of characters attempting to make their way by various means of trickery into the lands beyond a fortified mountain pass. Why they want to do so or what is the significance of one plot of land versus the other is not clear, but the lack of information and the presentation of the author attach a sort of mystical fervor to risking life and limb for an unknown land, and Orb tackles the same thing in a more clear-cut, prosaic manner.

In fiction, it's not uncommon for there to be a tension based on your anticipation of whether a character will die or not, yet this tension is absent or greatly diminished in these titles because misfortune is telegraphed by design, and what we're shown in a preceding arc is foreordained in the subsequent arcs, unless the author later decides to subvert expectations. These works lack the poeticism of a tragedian, as one would expect to find in a "deep work" with so much persecution and death, and only echo hollowness. In some sense, Orb is worse than these other titles because it takes the characters to the formula's logical conclusion and depersonalizes them even further by making the main character, in essence, an idea. In theory, a conventional setup of a core cast that we follow throughout the series or one that has a "disposable" cast can both be emotionally resonant and serve as compelling fiction, yet the latter formula requires a much defter hand than is on display to be convincing and is the obvious reason why it's seldom used. The former is tried and true, but the latter can quickly become sterile, contrived in its determinism, and has a tendency to use the characters as barely concealed mouth pieces for the author's ideas, which might even work if those ideas are grand and the artistic vision lofty enough. Orb is a failure on both counts, acting as another knock against this formula, along with the other deficient works I have cited.

Many assume that the budgetary constraints are not an issue, for this is a title concerned with characters, story, and, perhaps most importantly, ideas and themes. It's somewhat true, for there doesn't appear to be a need for heavy amounts of animation to convey these ideas, yet the problem is deeper than needing better animation or sakuga showboating. Most artistic slideshows have a more creative use of imagery compared to Orb, so it's not a matter of animation alone. The aesthetic is the problem, and it's a severe one. Artwork and composition can easily make up for a limited but wisely used animation budget. Instead, we have lots of static frames and pans over bland artwork, like any other seasonal. They let you savor those super-stinky ultra-cheesy pans over Rafal, him being the talk of the town, shining against a star-studded backdrop, set to self-aggrandizing music, and sporting a flat closed-eye expression that renders the character art even shoddier looking than it already is. This type of vile stylization reigns supreme. Lastly, the cinematography and compositions are subpar. Animation is a visual medium, so you don't get a free pass for neglecting the visual component to the extent that it might as well be a radio drama. Nonetheless, there will always be a market and endless trumpeting for anything with the appearance of being "mature and sophisticated," especially if it quotes a couple famous people (hey, you guys heard of Socrates?) and asks a few questions about existence now and then.

I can hardly believe Madhouse, a company behind many excellent titles and co-founded by legends such as Osamu Dezaki and Yoshiaki Kawajiri, both of whom had a powerful visual style, could put out something so lifeless. Madhouse placed most of their animation assets into physical conflict, such as the sword fights with the duelists. The only images that come close to being effective are the night time sequences; there's minimal light pollution from the cities, so the sky teems with bright stars, indicating the author should have framed this work as a nocturnal mood piece or at least had a stronger contrast for day and night, lending the daytime scenes a harsh, oppressive, and well-calculated brightness. The closest this series came to possessing an effective atmosphere so far was when the duelists fought with the noble in episode 4 and wandered around the city. Once they set foot into the brightly lit bar, the flat lighting and lifelessness returned, the characters hamming it up. The day time scenes are just as bad or worse. Clearly, there was a missed opportunity for visual storytelling here, as the two times of day to some extent represent the status quo and the rebellious heretics.

The author may have been able to make this series function if he used a more conventional storytelling method, but there's an immediate "oopsie" by the end of episode 3. Orb is plagued by being too big for its britches with its tepid grimdark attempts at profundity. Yet it's not that deep. These are basic questions we've grappled with for millennia in art with more rigor and artistry. Just because this presents more philosophical musings than your average seasonal slop doesn't mean it's profound. Is there a god? If not, where do we find meaning? Is truth worth pursuing despite all odds? And there's a whole lot of ignorance and gas lighting that makes that pursuit of truth all the more difficult. This is a linear and simplistic infotainment story line with no replay value, let alone viewing value. While I wish I could say I enjoyed my weekly twenty minutes of hate against D-g and the church, dying for the sake of our lord and savior Heliocentrism every few episodes is not at all compelling. Honestly, reading about the history of astronomy from beginning to end is both more entertaining and enlightening.

Maybe the writing seems serviceable at first, but the execution of numerous scenes is horrendous and what could be compelling themes are rendered as ham-fisted by the ineptitude of the drama, with these "mature" series so often seeming to engage in hokier shenanigans than even many trashy isekais, made all the more obvious by the oh-so-serious, one might even say "edgy," nature. One character quote mines Socrates and numerous historical figures so as to justify a questionable sacrifice, as if the author were Urobutcher at his clumsiest. It's not at all a fantasy, but the way the author strings together his cornball contrivances, playing out like divinely inspired Heliocentric prophecy as the author connects the dots in a deterministic fashion, one might be forgiven for thinking otherwise.

The Heliocentrism cult, their symbol being the wood medallion, come across as creepy to the extreme and behave like mystical, know-it-all shamans, going against the presumed rational schtick they have going on in the series amongst many of the dissidents otherwise. One of them even abruptly rises from the dead as if he were a zombie, sacrificing himself for another character, leering at him like a deranged coomer as he does so, passing on the torch ("One of us! One of us!")! The author reinforces his dichotomy of truth and belief by juxtaposing the "peaceful" deaths of the followers of Heliocentrism against the tortured faces of D-g's followers upon death; this is dishonestly conveyed by a scene where one of the dueling dunces muses about the latter situation after having shish kebabed a noble in a duel and assigns meaning to it, yet who wouldn't die in agony during an adrenaline-soaked battle to the death? It doesn't prove any point at all, leaving one to think the character is a madman, yet, if so, the script corroborates his madness! Meanwhile, the Heliocentrism cult acts as if they've transcended death altogether, the author making them look so relaxed upon passing that one might mistake them for having wet their pants while asleep.

There's no subtlety or respect for the audience. There's even wince-inducing dialogue about the obvious passing of the torch or baton (subtext this blatant should be left as such) to the next person. In episode 5, There's a scene so heavy-handed as to be embarrassing in the way they use symbols and themes: That pivotal scene, another such passing of the Holy Light of Heliocentrism, resembles an absurd Rube Goldberg machine of crumbling architecture and various items used as symbols and reinforcing the themes, which the characters are directly grappling with; is this a comedy? Because the scene sort of reminds me of and is actually way worse than the old cliche of the guy putting a bible, pocket watch, or lighter in his chest pocket and surviving what should have been a lethal pistol shot to the heart. There are many such scenes, and Heliocentricism is a ravenous, Jealous God who needs to be renewed with the blood of its proponents, with Orb oddly resembling the deterministic horror of schlock like the Final Destination franchise over anything serious.

The most hilarious thing about this series is Christianity is known for having concocted a new form of writing, which one can call martyr literature, yet the oppositional IFLS crowd in this show all come across as having the same zeal. I respect the efforts of those who were persecuted by the church and tried to maintain or further knowledge, but this story has an awkward and preachy way of depicting the characters and events. Much knowledge was lost to the hands of Christian scribes, who often declined to copy many inconvenient texts that critiqued their ideology (made pretty obvious by how we often only have counter-criticism of writers like Marcion and Celsus, rather than their original texts, the horrible treatment and contempt for the ancient world, defacement of statues and pagan shrines, etc.), but I wouldn't be complaining if they tossed this turkey into the funeral pyre.

It's difficult to resist trying these films associated with long-running series, as many of them have great aesthetics, present interesting themes to tie the series together, or have exciting, well-animated sequences. I would never watch the TV series, for it looks like unwatchable 1/10 garbage. I skipped the recap film half of the other OVA, Eien no Once More, for my viewing of Long Goodbye, but I watched it afterwards and found the context wasn't especially necessary; the characters and story are unbelievably basic, and there's no need to torture yourself by prepping for this OVA finale by slogging through the dreadful TV series or ... even enduring the thrown-together recap film, though the latter should be more than sufficient, should you wish to be better prepared.

Probably this is only of interest for fans of Creamy Mami, animation enthusiasts, and for anime industry lore, as the screenplay was written by co-creator of the Creamy Mami series, Kazunori Ito, who worked alongside Mamoru Oshii for many of his most famous films and inserted the famed director into Long Goodbye to direct the film, with a variation on his name. The OVA focuses on filmmaking and one of the key characters is a scriptwriter, who could possibly be seen as a stand-in for Ito, and the few scenes featuring Oshii's doppelganger are quirky and possibly referential to his time working as a director at Pierrot studio, most notably for Urusei Yatsura.

The basic concept is fine, but the execution is less than stellar when it comes to writing and characters. The behind-the-scenes filmmaking is great for stringing together well-framed set pieces, wonderful and vibrantly colored animation, and one of the more riveting fantasy fight sequences of the 1980s, featuring excellent background animation and choreography. I don't have any complaints from an aesthetic standpoint. Despite many scenes being solid, the film is hollow in totality and doesn't have much going on. There's not even the heavy dose of nostalgia I would have expected for a closing film, and the themes circle back to the typical coming of age that must have defined the series, with a struggle between the identity of the middle school girl Yuu and her transformed state as the magical girl and pop idol Mami, their disconnect being represented by the film-within-a-film script's two worlds colliding in a battle to decide which world will be erased. It couldn't get anymore obvious, could it?

Yuu/Mami's crisis, where she can't control her transformations that correspond with the contrasting night and day, lack depth, and while I get that she's only 10 years old and probably a late teen with a much younger mind in her Mami form, she's such an uninteresting airhead of a protagonist. Shingo was infatuated with Mami while engaged to Megumi, but there is no sense of a love triangle at all, and it seems there wasn't meant to be. Megumi is the heroine of the film within a film, and Mami is the antagonist, in a nod to the coming of age anti-escapism themes. There is no conflict or interaction between them off screen, which renders the film as seemingly frivolous, no more than a symbol for the clash of fantasy against reality. The warmer scene where Yuu makes an attempt to bond with Megumi would have also been a lot more affecting if there was more tension between Mami and Megumi, as one would expect from the early portion of the script. Doesn't Megumi at least need to pussywhip Shingo and win her man? Not that Mami wants anything to do with Shingo, but he historically was interested in her.

Was this potential plot thread cast aside because of running time and Ito was more interested in focusing on his presumed self-insert character, Kidokoro, who is indistinguishable from being a Japanese Woody Allen, all the way down to trying to woo the ladies with his ghastly nebbish "charm"? The actual love triangle, oddly enough, involves Nippon Woody, Shingo, and Megumi. Though a woman would probably be certified insane if she had the choice and didn't pick Shingo, there's even a hint along the way that Megumi might actually be interested in Nippon Woody, but she's waiting for him to make a move, as so often happens in these films with the dorky character competing with Chad. It's hard to say, but her supposed interest might have even been an exaggeration of Nippon Woody's imagination, and the fantasy of his script subtly begins to overlap with reality. I'd say that fits in with the themes, but that's speculative, and the film doesn't do a great job of connecting the dots there, as far as I remember, should that be the case.

Due to the film tie-in in of this OVA and how much the character of Kidokoro and aspects of the production resemble the appearance and films of Allen, I think it's worth devoting a few sentences to the latter. The perpetually nervous Allen's favorite kind of film to make, at least earlier on, were nerdy romcoms where he played the lead role, with pretty women throwing themselves upon him. Though there was nothing fantastical about these films, they were quite fantasy-like in the way they depicted a creepy dweeb having his desires effortlessly fulfilled. If Allen's films are wish-fulfillment fantasy, the Long Goodbye takes a 180 and Ito pins the tale on the donkey and snaps him out of his pleasant dreams.

With that context out of the way, Mami's identity crisis is paralleled with Nippon Woody's subplot, which equally involves a feud between reality and fantasy, for Woody is in love with Megumi and knows he'll never succeed, but he writes his script as if to determine fate, encapsulated by the great line from Megumi about how films with a heroine usually have a hero to fall in love with, and the reason this film doesn't is obvious when you consider Woody's motives. The scene and the ideas brought forth are overlooked and fascinatingly prescient, given how they provide brilliant insight into not just developing trends within the mahou shojo genre but also tapping into the popularity of CGDCT, a prime grazing ground for the herbivore man and his cautious plan. Thankfully, Nippon Woody fails to consummate his romantic aspirations and is cucked hard! Thanks, I needed that. Fuck Woody Allen.

In spite of many compelling ideas and a wonderful aesthetic, the film simply feels lopsided with all the Nippon Woody buildup only being there for a heavy punchline in the end, knocking him flat out with a much needed return to reality. The lack of decent conflict other than the simple one with Yuu/Mami also leaves this one feeling like throwaway fanservice more than a film. Many good scenes don't add up to an impressive whole, unfortunately. It's sad because I can see this being a minor classic with a director's cut and a more fleshed out script that considered some of my complaints.

(While I don't think there are any true spoilers here for Martian Successor Nadesico: The Prince of Darkness if you've seen all of the requisite prequels, there are heavy spoilers for the Sega Saturn game Martian Successor Nadesico: The Blank of 3 Years and one minor spoiler for extra context for the Sega Dreamcast game Martian Successor Nadesico: The Mission.)

The Nadesico film requires a bit of context to appreciate, and this is one of those instances where even the initial theater-going Japanese audience of the time would have been bewildered and in the dark, not just an outside audience getting only select titles localized, as ... is so often the case. Prince of Darkness was released in theaters in 1998, evidently a month before the Sega Saturn game Martian Successor Nadesico: The Blank of 3 Years (B3Y). The problem here is that the Saturn game was a direct sequel to the original series and PoD was a sequel to the game. Like a lot of notable Saturn games, it wasn't localized in the west or elsewhere, so very few non-Japanese fans know what happened there and are forced to experience it vicariously through often lacking plot summaries. B3Y is also a multi-route game that could run around 10-30 hours, meaning it's longer and has more content than even the 26 episode series to cram in to the middle. Originally, it seems PoD was meant to be part of a film series or trilogy, but after the lack of success of the film, there was just one more sequel on the Dreamcast, called Nadesico: The Mission, which also seems to have an open ending of sorts in relation to a wandering Akito, who Ruri and Yurika continue to search for.

I've read a few summaries that helped me work my way through the film somewhat, and the glossed-over plot details can mostly be filled in through intuition and a few lines of dialogue later in the film. While the film is mostly functional, it definitely feels like you're watching part 3 immediately after part 1, nevertheless, rather than a film that easily stands on its own. Many events are handled without much buildup to process anything well, often expressed in a few brief sentences or images. This can leave the film feeling tightly compressed, which it ultimately is because it's cramming in a fair amount without any backstory retreading in a mere 74 minutes (the running time is 79, but the credits roll for about 5 minutes). They really throw you right into the middle of the action with this arc, for one of the first few frames reveal Akito and Yurika to be dead! They don't even give a basic explanation of what happened in the past following this reveal, leaving you to piece it together over the course of the entire film. The focus goes from Akito and Yurika to Ruri, who is on a mission with two new sidekicks and her own ship, with the main antagonists being the Martian Successors (MS).

Of course, the main couple aren't dead, and I doubt anyone believed they really could be, given their presence in the original series. B3Y involves a story centering around the Nadesico crew and an amnesiac man who has a mysterious link to the presumably deceased Kazama Itsuki (the girl who replaced Akito as a fighter pilot and got boson jumped out of the story). Given what we know about boson jumping by the end of the original, it's easy to fill in the blank that Itsuki is not dead. This amnesiac man is named Kaito, after Yurika's dog (LOL), and while his story is worth reading into to better understand what happened in the time between these two anime stories, it's not overly important to PoD.

After the original series, Akito and Yurika become a couple. Minato and Yurika have a custody battle over Ruri, which Yurika wins, leading to the couple becoming the guardians of Ruri. They open up a ramen shop. Whereas Nergal seemed to have been a core part of the Earth's military-industrial complex during the original series, their power declined once the Earthlings and Jovians unified, though Nergal still remains a sizable power, and Erina and Nagare play a role in foiling the Martian Successors plot during PoD. What's left out completely from this story, though perhaps hinted at when Ruri asks Nagare whether he is "good or bad," is that, despite being opponents in PoD, Nergal and the MS conspired together during B3Y on a project to make a powerful Aestivalis and ship, with the latter being controlled by a "cybernetic fairy," much like Ruri, but surpassing the need for a crew. The Aestivalis would be potent enough to compete against numerous mech units or even a whole army, and the ship could take out entire fleets. This corresponds with an expansion of boson jump gates, allowing rapid maneuverability over a vast amount of space and various planets.

For this project, they engineer a girl called Lapis who can control the entire ship with her mind. She bears a resemblance to Ruri, is even more super-kuudere, and both were the product of genetic engineering and nanotechnology, allowing them both to directly connect to computers, such as how Ruri interfaces with the Omoikane (the Nadesico's computer) or the Martian technology, though Lapis is presumably more powerful. To consolidate their power, the MS turn against Nergal and abduct anyone who can control the Martian relic or boson jump. This includes Lapis, Akito, and Yurika. Ines fakes her death to avoid being abducted. Yurika is used by MS as a means of learning to control the relic, whereas Akito and Lapis are experimented on, resulting in his senses and her emotions being greatly reduced or removed altogether. Nergal manages to rescue the two, though Yurika remains with MS in the dormant state we see in PoD, integrated with the relic.

Though not on good terms with Nergal, Akito and Lapis work with them to undermine MS. Lapis forms a symbiotic relationship with Akito; because Akito has lost his senses and she lacks emotion, the both of them makeup for a component that the other lacks. This isn't well portrayed in PoD, though it has a lot of untapped potential to make them far more interesting characters than how aloof and secondary they are here. Akito pilots the Aestivalis called the Black Selena, which is paired with a ship called the Eucharis, controlled by Lapis. Due to the symbiotic relationship of Eucharis, Black Selena, Akito, and Lapis, and the ability to boson jump on demand, they become an unstoppable power, easily wiping out the MS. Therein lies part of the problem with the anti-climatic feel of the film, which leads to the MS being a rather tepid antagonist and an unsatisfying conclusive battle, though it has the cinematic flair of a samurai duel when Akito squares off against one of the MS commanders. Even with a planned sequel, this doesn't feel sufficient.

Pretty much the whole cast is featured in some capacity, the most important ones joining up on a new mission, while some others stay behind and help in other ways. One of the odder inclusions to me was the father of the deceased Munetake having a minor role, who isn't even identified as his father, though you can assume it's him because of the hair style. While there is some humor to be found here, especially with old crew members, like the female mech pilots, Jun, Yukina, and interactions between Hari and Saburota, quite a bit of it is clustered during the middle section. The most stark contrast is how the once-goofy Akito, who matured as a character by the end of the original series, is practically a different character, a bit of an emo edgelord, and a non-communicative husk. The development of the character here is understandable but because of the aforementioned problems, the tonal shift from series to film will be jarring for anyone lacking context (even with the context, I imagine!), and it might be challenging to see how such a parodic series could become so much more serious and darker.

The villains are somewhat lacking in depth and don't get a lot of screen time. Kusakabe, the leader of the antagonistic MS, was a Jovian commander in the original and fought against the crew of the Nadesico on a few occasions in the original series. One thing I'm uncertain about is whether or not Earthlings are part of the MS at all; their origins were as a Jovian group, so it's likely the case that this is a plot for Jovian supremacy over the solar system and beyond, as the Jovian upper brass attempted before the peace treaty, but even this basic point is not especially clear in the film, making it obvious how the pace is too quick and the writing becomes vague as a result. I've seen some mention of fascistic imagery, and it's there, but they mostly resemble some kind of mystical cult with their matching outfits in this case, attempting to utilize boson jumping to travel through space-time instantaneously, which would allow them to centralize the entire solar system in a new order. The name Martian Successors is a nod to the aliens that briefly stopped at Mars and left some of their technology there, and the MS would be the inheritors of that legacy. Japan had a boom of UFO cults, just as many other countries did, and I reckon some of those were influence for crafting the antagonists, just cross them with Yukio Mishima's activism or something.

Is it worth watching for fans of the original series? Well... with context, I think it is probably worth it, though it's a much different experience, plenty flawed, and difficult to view in a fully satisfactory way. I've hopefully provided all of the most important points for approaching and understanding PoD. From an audiovisual standpoint, it's vastly superior to the original. I tended to not even notice the OST in the series, other than the catchy OP and ED, but the orchestral score here drives the scenes along in a more memorable fashion than anything in the series. Many shots in the original are decent enough, but the cel animation in the film is often lovely to behold, featuring vivid coloring, more inventive angles, transitions, and far more creative sci-fi imagery. Mostly, it's just pleasant to see what happened to a cast that you spent so many episodes with already, now that many of them are older and more mature, trying to figure out what to do with their life, and with the hangover of Gekiganger having long passed.

This is probably the best mech parody anime out there, and even when my enjoyment wanes, I can at least admire it for its ambition. The aesthetic is fair enough but not on par with an OVA or film, of course, and it pales in this respect compared to Evangelion from a few years before, RahXephon a few years later, or just about any Sunrise mech series with a decent budget. The scripting is surprisingly solid, and it manages to balance solemn moments to keep it from becoming too overwhelming in its absurdity, yet it has a great balance to where the humor prevents sad ... and dramatic moments from becoming sappy or hammy. There's even a fair amount of characterization and development for the relatively large cast by comedy standards, and despite how goofball the show can be, there are some rather emotional parts, much to my surprise.

Absolutely squeezes the piss out of mech series while simultaneously honoring them in the spirit of all the best parodies. Far better and more deserving of fame than Gurren Lagann, a series that enjoys a large following, and was most likely influenced by Nadesico. The relationship between Akito and Gai even bears a lot of similarity to Simon and Kamina, with the spirit of Gai living on through the device of the ubiquitous Gekiganger show, which reinforces themes, acts as a source of comedy, hope, and even possesses a bittersweet note. Gekiganger has far more nuance, conflict, and deconstructive elements than the basic bitch binary of believing and not believing, and the parallel and similarities between Gai and Tsukumo, from the opposing side, with them both being offed by the status quo or some other less pure or idealistic individual, lends this a touch of cosmic tragedy. What lead to me being annoyed in GL was actually kind of endearing here and surprisingly more even-handed, despite this being more on the parodic side than GL.

Unfortunately, I find it kind of loses steam in the middle section, and it is an anime comedy, which caters to highly specific sensibilities and doesn't always translate well to global audiences. I'm not sure why it worked for me so strongly at first but a larger amount falls flat as it goes on. Maybe it's front-heavy (I had this at 7/10 initially, dropped to 6/10, and it was firmly at 5/10 for a while, finally concluding with 6/10). The main disconnect for me probably has to do with length and occasional slow pacing. A number of scenes and episodes feel a bit extraneous, and this series could have been tighter and better by shaving off several parts. Other factors are the average aesthetic quality.

Pop culture/anime comedy is the type of niche thing that will be hit or miss for many, and comedy is where things can most easily be lost in translation, not hit right in English (or whichever language), or simply be swamped by a deluge of obscure references and in-jokes. Still, for every moment of indifference, there are a few laughs here and there for most tastes into anime generally and mech series specifically.

Part of my problem might be that I watched this dubbed. Even when dubs are good (and I find comedy dubs in your native language are usually better than the original so long as it's not an overly moe series), there are usually some sections where they simply sound less professional or lose sight of the original vision in favor of flavoring and Americanization. I did watch a few scenes (not a great way to make a determination since the series is 26 episodes long and may not vary much at all in some areas and heavily in others) in both Japanese and English to compare and see what I might be missing, and they were typically about the same in terms of the dialogue, and I found the English to be an improvement for the humor of these scenes. Yet it's doubtless there were many localizations, some of them being equal or even better and others missing the mark. In some cases, the tones may have been completely different in each version, and I reckon the English cast might have mixed the drama and comedy more than the Japanese cast. Whether that's to better or greater effect is left to your own judgment. Adapting comedy, low or high brow, isn't easy. One day I'll have to try the subtitled version for a while to have a better frame of comparison.

Though the middle part has some tedious or awkwardly placed episodes, the plot twist around episode 15 renewed it's flirtation with conspiracy and human drama a bit, which tends to support the humor better than when we're aimlessly wandering through outer space instead, featuring not much more than a string of battles and comedy segues. There are a lot of small moments used to great effect, combining humor and drama (or the former taking the piss out of the latter, perhaps), such as Megumi's disappointment with the MC being paired with her handing over the recovered stash of Gekiganger DVDs and memorabilia, and the absurd amounts of Gekiganger worship, spanning the galaxy. While anime has always had off-the-walls bonkers, ritalin-laced humor, at least during the '90s it was possible to have some balance. Hardcore mech fans into the 1990s' style will get a lot more out of this than anyone else, and it's probably not the best title for those who aren't familiar with most of the tropes and references, so watching a few of the most popular mech titles would be a wise prerequisite.

Anyway, Nadesico is a pretty decent series, and I'm glad to have watched it, in spite of the mixed feelings. While I could have sworn I heard the ending was weak because of a quick Ruri voiceover to conclude and not much being explained and many questions left unanswered, it was a satisfactory ending for a rare mech title choosing to end in some way other than an epic battle and was a touch more introspective or thoughtful, with this occasionally showing more complex post-Evangelion tendencies. The cockpit scene between the lovebirds in particular was a solid scene close to the end.

Akito's dialogue about his sort of love-hate relationship he develops toward Gekiganger, upon finally seeing the last episode, and Minato's despair when she's watching the convenient ending of that series, both pair well together. She wonders how anyone could be so passionate towards such a childish series, with the characters absurdly using a dated cartoon like reading from a book of prophecy. There's a sense in which these simple stories act as a driving force that can easily be positive or negative, depending on context. Nadesico takes this influence to its most absurd negative conclusion with the Jovians, as these old hokey shows are so commonly battles of absolute good versus evil, when it's rarely an accurate reflection. Clearly, Gekiganger is a contrived and dated series, and Akito works through it like a coming of age, seemingly having grown past it by the end but still appreciating and being inspired by aspects of it. There are parallels in Gekiganger to be found in a lot of mech and shonen anime, and Nadesico thankfully goes in another direction with its eventual plot developments and conclusion.

Themes are rarely enough on their own to hold a series together, and the amount of enhancement they provide is highly contingent upon everything else, acting as an extra dimension to the various layers. If the pacing is a slog and you don't like the aesthetics, story, characters, etc., then no amount of deep or well-executed themes are likely to win you over. However, the base found here is good enough, and the way the themes were integrated here elevate Nadesico above where many other comedy series would fall flat. It's amazing how effectively the writer and director use the Gekiganger framing device as thematic glue to add humor, emotion, and depth to the series.

Despite the mixed reception, this OVA looked like it might have some potential: Attractive art similar to the Dangaioh OVA but darker, with decent animation and storyboarding, oftentimes elaborate mech designs, and an initially atmospheric and cinematic presentation. There are obvious proto-Evangelion vibes, featuring a brooding, depressive, whiny MC, and quite a few psychological elements, though it's already been done with the batshit psychotic characters chewing scenery in the darker moments of Tomino's Gundam series or the grimdark militancy and paranoia of Takahashi's Votoms.

The problem is the clunky expository dialogue from the robotic Chinese vampire villains or whatever these face-tatted fellows are supposed to ... be and how cheesy they are in general. It's obvious even from the first episode that the story is going to stutter throughout the entire duration, the plot armor is going to be off the charts, and the MC, who was a specially crafted breeding stud to be placed in the cockpit with a pretty female, will putter around with the next villain for foreplay, then blow them away effortlessly. While the effects animation is passable, the fights aren't well choreographed. They're usually hastily concluded with no effort due to a half-assed epiphany after the MC is done whining and flailing around, then he finishes them off with the Hyper-Giga-Super-Duper Star Beam or Chad Fist of Doom or whatever inane nonsense the staff come up with on the spot.

It's one of those shows that suffers from the immersion-breaking Sailor Moon effect, where the villains take him on 1-on-1, like they're gallant duelists, and you throw your hands in the air in exasperation and ask why they don't combine their forces and win, because we all know they could if they wanted to, just as they finally attempt in the final episode once the MC is unstoppable. This is why a war scenario is superior and should be used in place of a Sailor Moon-esque setup. Usually, Villain A is hyucking at the poor heroes. Villain B conspires against him. Villain A is killed by the heroes as a result, followed by Villain B getting killed, then Villain C... Just attack at once, you nincompoops! What are the antagonists even doing!? Painting their nails and doing their makeup? It sure looks like it, what with their gaudy character designs. Yet their base is floating above Japan in plain sight, for fuck's sake!

The MC doesn't even realize someone is piloting the first mech, and for his second battle, he freezes up, not wanting to kill the person inside. What a pansy! Then he, of course, flips out with a psychopathic personality, further fueling the dark psychological style, which still wasn't too common in mech anime. The sibling rivalry conflict between the twins is contrived and laughable, and the MC's shift in personality is equally unintentionally hilarious, along with his MWHAHAHAHA cackling edgelordism. All of the character relationships rely on these silly tropes and threadbare interactions, such as passionless romances, half-baked existentialism, ambitious and scheming upstarts, etc., rather than any depth.

By the end, the psychological elements are pushed further by the fractured psyche of the MC, and the twist deepens the connection between the MC's different identities and his enemies, but it comes much too late and nothing is explored with any rigor. By episode 3, you know the ending is going to be terrible and rushed, given there are still so many enemies and loose ends. The final episode feels like it should be at the halfway point, but all the enemies are dispatched quickly and with ease, and we're given a lame cop-out ending. Even with such a weak story and characters, they still try to milk tears with the trashy soundtrack, especially at the end. There seems to be a quasi-attempt at making the end tragic, but the execution is more akin to a three-ring circus. It's kind of sad this is such a poor OVA because the reveals in episode 4 had a great deal of potential if this were at all well written. The OVA is somewhat notable for its influence, but it's not worth watching except for the most die-hard mech completionist.

The MC looks like he might be a little more introspective from the first scene, giving the occasional wistful internal monologue, but he quickly becomes dumb, oblivious as your thickest romcom main. Worst of all, he's generic in his I WUVS you dynamic with his alien waifu, having nothing else to his character other than being a jittery mess (until he isn't) and wanting to preserve these precious memories, since there probably isn't a heaven or D-g or whatever.

Most of the characters are shown to be pretty damn stupid and oblivious by episode 3. Those are some intense misunderstandings and a much-too-tangled love geometry. ... Of course, Kanna will eventually confess to the MC, and, despite the obviousness of her interest in him—implicitly announced by the dialogue and reactions when Remon is filming them; learn to read the room, moron—he'll be surprised (peepers going wide), and say, "W-w-what, you like me? N-no way, but, ah, um, I actually love someone else, sorry, Kanna-chan." They might seem tolerable from the beginning, but almost all the characters are dull and one-note: whether it's the nerdy alien love interest, the feisty tom boy who "secretly" loves the MC, the girl, Mio, who doesn't wear underwear and is a bit shy and likes the horse-faced guy who likes Kanna, or the horse-faced motherfucker who has a barely concealed mommy complex. It's so predictable, and if you've seen any romcoms, you'll know exactly how this tangled love geometry will untangle itself. The writing would have to be far deeper to muster something so predictable and the characters more dynamic or compelling.

Despite one character being an alien, Remon is the biggest weirdo of the bunch (her fufufu laugh is better than average, but it was a wasted opportunity when the MC imagined them laughing behind his back, and she didn't do the fufufu laugh...), who obviously knows more than she lets on, but no one really pauses to take note. She's the only memorable character, being cute and manipulative, having actual awareness, a mysterious background, an amusing demeanor and laugh and being one of the few sources of humor, along with the mascot character. Might as well have made a show about her instead.

There's also the cute Pokemon-like critter, Rinon, acting as Ichika's pet; she's clearly not a terrestrial life form, yet no one seems to pay any attention? Ichika doesn't try to hide him, make excuses, or use some kind of illusion or cloaking device to make her look like a Chihuahua. Of course one of the plot points is that Ichika thinks that the sex-crazed Kaito figured out she is an alien, and it frightens her that he might turn against her. She's trying to blend in rather than act as a mischievous alien, like Lum would, so how does she not think them seeing her Pokemon might be a tip leading to her hidden identity unraveling? It's like they needed a cute mascot quota to be met but didn't feel like going through any added hassle for her, which kind of breaks the writing. It actually worked when Rinon showed up for a comedy scene because Remon was handing out her spiked drinks beforehand, and they blacked out all their memories. Yet a later scene has Kaito feeding her Pokemon ramen casually? The guy is so eager to stick it in whatever hole he can find that he doesn't care that this suspicious girl who lives with him, after knowing each other for only one day, has a Pokemon? By this point, the MC should realistically know she's an alien and is trying to conceal her identity (either to protect her from the MIB or get a chance to try out his anal probe fetish), or they should make a better effort to not give huge hints to the cast who will take every chance they can to double-down on being dumbasses.

The writer simply does what he wants instead of making the characters seem like they have a thought process. The aesthetic and 8mm film framing device make the series a lot more compelling than it otherwise would be, and it's decently fun in spite of the flawed writing and tedious drama dumps. During the beach episode, another grill from childhood is introduced to further complicate and dramatize the dull convolution of the love geometry, which is terribly forced and without any real buildup or emotion.

Even most of the comedy is eventually strangled by the sappy drama we've all seen hundreds of times. "Be prepared to work your fingers to the boner" (as opposed to bone) was a line I wanted to point to to give an idea about the comedy, but it seems that's a crass localization, and the series tends to be more tasteful, instead being tasteless in the sense of having no flavor. The animation is used decently when it comes to providing varied facial expressions and accentuating a few moments, and there's a small amount of physical and visual humor. Most of the decent parts come from Remon or Rinon, but there's a touch of weirdness early on that has even the main couple providing a few laughs, like the delusions of the MC, which are largely dropped after only a few episodes.

The plotting is so convenient with different characters running into each other all over town, activating plot forwarding or exposition and relationship or feelings dumps. In the span of 1-2 episodes, the MC goes looking for Ichika. Gets stuck. Runs into Remon at "random" (like anything is random with her), who gives him a pep talk. Next scene, Kanna sees MC from afar. Kanna runs into Ichika at MC's house. Kanna runs home crying, and Ichika sees everything about her romance and purpose from a new angle. Kanna Runs into horse-face, who is waiting along the way, leaning against a telephone pole. He comforts her as she cries. They cut to a shot of Mio crouched behind the bus stop, crying, while neither Kanna nor horse-face know she's there (seriously, wtf?). Horse-face confesses to Kanna a few days later. I'm like, "Let me guess, Mio will be there to kiss his booboos." She appears out of nowhere to hug him from behind, and he was standing at a kind of overhang area with fencing behind him, so you have to ask where she even came from, as there's no way she could sneak up on him.

Other than a few of the anxious earlier moments, the series seems so predictable and by the numbers to the point that none of the interactions feel real or have anything compelling about them. Ultimately, while I'm thankful it was there because it added a touch of mystique and variety, it's questionable if there was even a point in bothering with the sci-fi at all, other than to make a rather dull romance more intriguing and colorful, and maybe present some silly metaphor about the difficulties of forging an enduring love, but the series fails to exploit the sci-fi elements to their fullest.

Ichika's reason for coming to the earth boils down to an ancestral blood memory of no importance rather than insightful or well integrated, and the story doesn't have any of the usual tropes about uniting interstellar races or ending conflict. While I'm in no way wishing for those cliches, what I am saying is that the writing was half-baked and sloppy because most of the plot points and ideas feel like they are simply there and not tethered together in a truly meaningful way. There seems to be a muddled nod to the "human condition," and, as far as I can tell, the "aliens" are just more technologically advanced humans, who likely have some connection to the earth in the first place, though that isn't explored.

The focus on love geometry, and all the old hat and syrupy drama with these one-note characters that that entails, over the filmmaking and sci-fi plot, is what renders this title as seemingly well-received back when it aired but a forgotten dud today. The filmmaking framing device feels secondary for most of the run, but it's used in a decent manner to reinforce what's going on in the main plot, emphasizes the nostalgic tone well, and provides a decent-enough ending. The sci-fi is similarly shoehorned at the beginning for light mystery elements and heavily at the end for some conflict outside of whiny brats confessing, being rejected, and the butthurt that often follows. The main problem is that the writer chose to focus on a setup that relies heavily on character writing but left them underwritten, so we're left with a lukewarm slop of treacly romance geometry, sporadic comedy, tedious drama, shallow thematics and a lack of substance in general, and thin sci-fi.