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In the unfair, competitive world of Shonen Jump publication, early cancellation is a fate that the vast majority running through its pages will inevitably face. And whenever the subject comes up, what’s often remembered are the good ones, well-made series cruelly ended before they got their time to shine. Other times, a canceled series is so obviously, overwhelmingly bad that few shed tears over its demise and one has to wonder how the hell it even got published in the first place.

And, in the awkward middle of these two extremes, there are series like MamaYuyu. Series which might have shown promise when they began, but ... so thoroughly lose their way that one starts to think that getting axed might have been a mercy, like putting down a dying dog rather than prolonging its painful demise.

It’s undoubtable that, regardless of its eventual issues, the premise and first chapter of the series did show at least some potential for a truly great series. The core of Corleo’s journey, finding what it means to be a hero in a world which seems to be leaving the concept behind, is immediately laid out & made engaging, and his character is elevated even further by his endearingly human relationship with his adoptive mother Mamama, which is set up at the start as the seeming emotional core of the entire story. And complimenting that core cast is the fascinating setting of a modernized, peaceful version of your traditional DnD fantasy which seems ripe for exploration and development.

But despite having a solid foundation for a story in all of that, the author felt that even more was needed to really hook in the reader, and so we get the point where the story really starts to show its issues: the central plot regarding alternate universe Heroes and Demon Kings. Now is this necessarily a bad addition? No, not really, giving Corleo counterparts to contrast with and refine his own idea of heroism is, at least on paper, an interesting way of developing the story’s themes. But the fact is that in practice, it adds so much more in terms of ideas and themes that adequately exploring the concept while balancing it with the rest of the story’s core ideas requires a level of time, care, and skill which not many storytellers have. And unfortunately, Yoshihiko Hayashi simply isn’t a good enough storyteller to manage that kind of balance.

And so, what ensues is a whirlwind of frustrating writing in which Mamama, her relationship with Corleo, and the entire setting which had been initially set up are largely pushed to the wayside in favor of introducing a dozen underdeveloped characters at breakneck speed and then proceeding to throw them into boring generic fights where the only thing of interest is the obligatory Shonen Power System. Even the characters with better ideas behind them don’t really have the time or depth to really shine.

When the story does occasionally commit to character writing, whether it be emphasizing Corleo’s development or letting one of its side characters be something of worth, you can see a spark of brilliance shine through the slop, like a page from a much better version of this series was accidentally printed in this series. But ultimately, these flashes of greatness are too fleeting and overrun by the series’ inability to commit to anything to be anything more than a frustrating reminder of how sloppy everything surrounding it is. By the time the series drags itself over the finish line, one can’t help but wonder what the point of this all even was.

Now while I’ve been a downer for most of this review, it’d be a disservice to finish this review without mentioning the series’ art, AKA the only part of it where there’s very little to complain about. Hayashi is an insanely talented artist, and the series is filled to bursting with unique character designs, wonderfully complex drawings, and effortlessly creative paneling. If there’s one reason to read the series, it’s for the visuals.

If you’re looking for anything other than pretty drawings, though? Best to stay away from this one.

So this is what it’s like to watch a series crash and burn in real time…

Jujutsu Kaisen is an interesting beast of a series. When it first hit the mainstream anime community in 2020, many immediately took to praising it as one of the best Battle Shonens to come out of modern Jump, in spite of the fact that, in many other people’s eyes, it had yet to do anything all that notable or special to set itself apart from the competition. A big part of this was, of course, manga readers hyping up what the series would eventually do later down the line, and ... the rest was anime-onlies who were either blinded by the sakuga or engaged with the idea of what the series *could be* rather than necessarily what it actually was at the time.

Regardless of the reason behind the hype, it was undeniable to many people that the show had potential. Sure, it might not be anything too special now, many people said, but if it executes its ideas well and lives up to the expectations the Manga readers set, then it absolutely could become one of the best modern Shonens.

And that’s where this season comes in. Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 is the series’s attempt to cash in all its hype, the moment where shit hits the fan and it truly becomes the series everyone says it could be. Or rather, to put it more accurately, Season 2 is when the show *tries* to do that, but ends up failing, falling down several flights of stairs, and ruining most of what made it entertaining in the first place.

Breaking it down first, it’s almost necessary to talk about the season in terms of the two parts which it was broken up into: the 6 episode Hidden Inventory arc which constitutes the start, and the 17 episode Shibuya Incident arc which makes up the remainder of the season.

The Hidden Inventory arc isn’t exactly anything too special, but it’s easily the best part of the season. This is some of the most tightly focused and plotted writing in the series, with its relatively short episode count being well-complemented by its small cast. As a flashback arc detailing Gojo’s Past, it succeeds well enough, adding a layer of nuance to the character which expands on what had been previously hinted at regarding him. It retains the first season’s sense of goofy charm while managing to be relatively more serious, and is generally rather well-directed and animated on top of that.

This isn’t to say that it’s perfect, of course. The last stretch of the arc especially shows signs of rushing as just 5 episodes isn’t quite enough to fit the many emotional beats the arc tries to hit, leading to several parts of it falling rather flat when it comes to elements which don’t deal directly with Gojo’s character arc.

Now you might be thinking at this point that this seems rather more positive and good than I was making it out to be at the start of this review. Well, that’s because the real problems with the season come in its second, much larger part, the Shibuya Incident.

Shibuya starts out fine enough, mostly in how it picks up the momentum from the Hidden Inventory arc to fuel its first major fight and kick off the events of the arc. However, this is immediately lessened by the fact that that fight then proceeds to negate half of the emotional core of the Hidden Inventory arc in the first place, retroactively ruining a perfectly good arc for the sake of a cheap shock value reveal.

This bit of less than stellar writing is then followed by the onset of the rest of the arc, which is practically a nonstop series of fight scenes. And here’s where a huge problem rears its head: most of them don’t really matter.

Firstly, the show’s rather lean worldbuilding becomes a detriment here. The Jujutsu World as it exists is essentially a vague sketch made up of generic shonen worldbuilding tropes which the audience has no investment in. This was fine in the first season, where the stakes were generally character-based and the overall world took a backseat, but as Shibuya’s stakes are inherently grounded in the series’s setting, this starts to become a detriment to the audience’s investment.

This would also likely be fine if the character writing within the arc was competent enough to carry the series like it did in the first season. However, here we come to another problem: the character writing in Shibuya takes an utter nosedive. This problem is rather multifaceted, so let’s break it down a bit.

Firstly, the fights don’t really progress anything meaningful regarding the characters. Half of the fights in this season are against random one-note mooks whose only notable feature is their special ability. Consequently, there’s no personal stakes involved for any of the characters, and they have little-to-no development coming out of them. This arc’s episode count could be cut in half and pretty much nothing would change considering how inconsequential most of the fights are. This isn’t helped by the insane cast bloat, as the show constantly throws even more underdeveloped, one-note characters at the viewer and hopes that they might care about at least one of them.

Secondly, the series’ fights lack any sort of flair or personality. A big part of the appeal of the show’s first season was how simply fun the cast was in terms of their interactions and how their lovably distinct personalities shined through in their fights. However, as this is the “serious” arc, characters are not allowed to show personality or any interesting unique characteristics while fighting. So instead we get an indistinct gray sludge of generic, forgettable fight after generic, forgettable fight which is lacking in both style and substance, carried only by the efforts of the animators.

How does a writer keep the audience engaged in such an aggressively uninteresting slog, you ask? It’s quite simple, really: cheap shock value! You see that character the audience generally likes? Arbitrarily kill them off! Sure, their potential as a character hasn’t even begun to be tapped into and the audience barely knows them since you’ve spent so little time actually developing them, but if you make it sudden enough, you might be able to deceive the viewer into thinking it’s good writing!

Oh, what’s that? The viewer isn’t quite emotional yet? Just shove a flashback in the middle of their death scene and spend half the episode on it! Shoving all the character’s actual depth into the very end of their screen time, literally right before they’re dead, is *totally* a legitimate substitute for writing an actually compelling character. And, just to make sure the audience gets the point, give the character *another* flashback at the start of the next episode, just beat the audience over the head with what they’re supposed to be feeling, that’ll totally make them think the show is actually emotionally meaningful and not just boring crap.

Repeat some variant of this formula a couple times over, and you’ve got yourself the Shibuya Incident experience!

Now, of course, some might say that even if the show isn’t well-written in the slightest, it’s still very well-animated, so you can just enjoy it as turn-your-brain-off fun. However, even that approach has its problems due to the series’s consistency issues. For every genuinely great-looking fight, there’s another that’s ruined by flat shading, messy storyboarding, and the show’s ludicrously boring color palette. And even if you can look beyond that, the show’s attempts to shove emotions down your throat consistently ruin any attempt you might make to turn your brain off. It’s rather hard to just take in the action sakuga when half the episode is taken up by a boring flashback.

Overall, Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 can best be summed up in one word: Edgy. The season discards all of the potential it once had in favor of an “I’m 14 and this is deep” experience where an incoherent combination of black & red color palettes, random horrific imagery, and arbitrarily killing off characters passes itself off as good storytelling. It’s the most disappointing direction the series could have possibly taken, and easily one of the worst anime experiences of the year. Unless you’re an edgy teenager or a rabid sakuga fanatic, avoid this season like the plague.

Gundam Thunderbolt's second season is nothing more than the burned out husk of a once great show. A bold-faced insult to the glorious first season it succeeded which sucks it dry of the energy it once had in favor of hollow pandering and incomplete, shallow storytelling.

Let's start with the very basic premise of this season, more specifically how it's broken from the very foundation. What defined the first season of Thunderbolt was the intense, morally gray rivalry between its two leads and the squads they represent. The show gave you time to truly get to know both Io and Daryl, grow attached to them and ... know their understandable reasons for fighting. This, in turn. made it all the more weighty when the two sides clashed, perpetuating their self-destructive cycle of vengeance over an ultimately-worthless sector of space in a fashion which is both exciting and tragic.

It's here where Thunderbolt Season 2 utterly fails. Being set after the One Year War, the fundamental conflict which defined Season 1's themes and characters is gone, and with it goes everything which made the story interesting. In its place, we now have the South Seas Alliance, an entirely new faction whose defining traits are "is evil" and "is vaguely cult-like", made up entirely of faceless minions with no definable character traits or motivations of their own.

Consequently, every battle in this season is absurdly boring, the character motivations and emotional intensity of the first season traded out for brainless, plotless schlock where no meaningful character writing or investment can be found.

Now in response to this, some of you might say that a big part of what makes Thunderbolt good is that it's cool action spectacle which you can turn your brain off to, so the fact that the writing has went to shit shouldn't be a huge impediment to one's enjoyment. I'm sorry to say, however, that the action and spectacle in this season are also rather lacking.

Now, to be clear, the show isn't exactly bad looking. The art style is still on point, the Mobile Suit designs are great, and the animation is a bit above your average seasonal trash, but it's still a major step down from Season 1. Moving the setting from space to Earth did a number on its action choreography, which now feels so much more sluggish and watered-down compared to the infinite creativity of the first season. The storyboarding rarely feels very striking or impactful outside of a few memorable scenes in the first episode, and the new color palette means that so very few of the visuals truly pop like they should.

This isn't helped by the fact that it just *drags*. Each episode is a few minutes longer than in Season 1, and while that might not sound that bad on paper, in practice it means that the season is collectively over 20 minutes longer than the first one, yet not nearly as much happens in it. Fights are drawn out longer than they should be and the plot tying it together is too thin to justify the extra time given to it.

The collective result of all this is that the entire season just feels so stale. watching through it all feels like it actively drains one's energy simply because it's so much more of a time sink next to Season 1 without nearly as much to get invested in. And coming out the other side it just feels like you've actively wasted your time.

In many ways, this season feels more like a crude parody of Thunderbolt's first season than a true follow up. A work which sets out to be a vague facsimile of the action fest it looks like on the surface while failing to understand the human core which made it work. It's a truly soulless *product* rather than a *story*, and I can't in good faith recommend such a thing to anyone who truly enjoys Thunderbolt.

Tenmaku Cinema is a relatively satisfying read robbed of its potential by its unfortunate cancellation. From the beginning, the series showed incredible promise, combining drop-dead gorgeous artwork with a fun protagonist, the tantalizing mystery of Tenmaku as a character, and the sheer novelty of a manga about movie-making.

From there, the series continued at a somewhat steady pace. The main cast had a great deal of chemistry, the way it goes in-depth regarding the intricacies of movie-making and the creation of amateur films kept it consistently engaging, and the way these two elements combined into the cast's constant struggle to get their film made kept the ... overall story very compelling.

Speaking of the cast, the series' short run unfortunately means that most of them don't get much development with the exception of Shinichi, Tenmaku, and the female lead, Hinaki Kurai/Himeki Kurakui. Of them, Himeki is by far the most interesting, as her arc starts to take center-stage as time goes on. Tenmaku is also fascinating, though less-so after his full past is revealed and his mystique is gone, and Shinichi is unfortunately stuck being a bit one-note in spite of his protagonist status.

As mentioned at the start of this review, the series being cut short did unfortunate damage to its quality. The main plot started to move at a faster pace and the final chapter especially felt heavily rushed, with the resolution of a few elements in particular being particularly unsatisfying because of that. In spite of all this, though, the series still managed to wrap up its central plot and all the major character arcs it set up in a way which broadly made sense narratively and thematically, and was ultimately satisfying for what it was, so I can't really say I dislike how it ended.

In the end, Tenmaku Cinema, while a rather flawed read, is still one I'd recommend for what it still manages to do right in the limited time it had, but all who might want to get into the series should keep in mind that the ending might not entirely measure up to the quality of what preceded it, and should set their expectations accordingly

Jinzou Ningen 100 was an interesting manga. From the start it had a premise which instantly grabbed you, the dynamic between its two leads is one inherently fraught with unease yet with the potential for interesting growth, while the idea of hunting the remaining 99 Fabricants made for a solid Villain-of-the-Week setup. And for its first few chapters, it was rather decent. The Fabricants were consistently unique and interesting opponents, Yao and No. 100 were fun to follow, and the subtle development of the setting made was neat to see.

The problems came, however, when the series strayed away from the formula and towards a ... more directly serialized narrative. To put it simply, the emergence of the larger plot came too early and unnaturally, feeling like it was trying to shake up the status quo when the status quo was barely even established yet, and weakening the series' overall consistency as it tried and failed to juggle the relatively unique fights against Fabricants which initially defined the series' identity with the ongoing plot which relied on highly cliched and poorly utilized Shonen Battle manga tropes.

Worse was what this did to the character writing, as attempts to shake up the two leads' relationship and develop their characters were often inconsistent or ignored, and the heavy expansion of the cast made the direction pulled the series' attention in too many directions and left almost all of these new characters uninteresting and underdeveloped.

That's not necessarily to say that these portions of the series were terrible, per say. Even at it's worst, the series was nothing offensively awful, the pacing was surprisingly tolerable, and there's at least one notable Fabricant fight/mini-arc in the series' latter half that I think was genuinely great and an insight into what the series could've been if it was more consistent and even.

It's very clear to tell in many respects that the series was facing cancellation and the writer was forced to rush through too much of the story he had planned, and for that, I have nothing but sympathy for Daisuke Enoshima. If nothing else, I can respect that he was at least able to properly conclude his story and wrapped up every loose end in a generally satisfying way, even if the buildup was very uneven and rushed. Additionally, the artwork was great, with unique character designs, action that flows, and some absolutely visceral visuals which perfectly compliment the manga's tone.

In the end, Fabricant 100 isn't exactly a good series, but it is an interesting one, and I don't regret reading it. There are ultimately a lot of things to appreciate and some readers could find themselves enjoying its high points as long as they're able to tolerate its inconsistencies.

Having only vaguely heard of this show once or twice, I didn't know what to expect going in, so I was pleasantly surprised to find it to be so damn good.

The first thing which grabbed me about the series was its brilliant art style, a gentle look done with light pastels and uneven color density with corners that fade to all, making it feel like every frame is an illustration from a coloring book and conveys such a strong sense of warmth. A feeling enhanced by the utterly enthralling musical score provided by Keiichi Okabe and Satoru Kousaki.

The thing which hooked me about the show ... more than anything else, though, was its compelling and powerful characterization. Shuuichi Nitori is a great protagonist, her dysphoria and timidity grabbed me instantly and seeing her start to grow more confident in her identity over the course of the series was a delight. Takatsuki is similarly great, he contrasts well with Nitori in his confidence and the way he handles his own identity issues, and their relationship is just a delight to see

If I had to pick a favorite out of the main characters, though, it'd probably be Chiba. She's defined by the fact that she wants to be a supportive friend, but often finds that what she wants conflicts with her friends own desires (particularly in how she clings to her past image of Nitori and her feelings for him) and that causes her to develop a lot of negative feelings which she really doesn't want, and that combined with her blunt nature often leads her to lash out at others even when she doesn't want to, which in turn fuels her belief that she just isn't a good person which feeds into her negative feelings further. Her emotional state is honestly very relatable to my own experiences at some lower points in my life and that kind of uncomfortable yet human characterization is what really makes the show for me.

And that kind of great character writing really carries through for the whole cast. From the eternal font of Chill that is Anna to even Nitori's brat of a sister, even the worst of the cast feel so well done and human.

The show's supremely respectful and positive depiction of trans issues is of course its centerpiece and the way it just ties everything together is so good. From Nitori and Takatsuki finding and developing a support network they can rely on, to exploring how certain kinds of such support can be harmful (such as how Nitori's friends' desire to protect her from social stigma conflicts with her own desire to dress as a girl more publicly and be open about her identity, which only fuels her self-doubt), to the way society treats male and female crossdressing differently, to the way self-image and gender expression are portrayed and used both overtly and subtly, etc. Point is, the show just absolutely nails it

Overall, this was a fantastic experience and one which placed itself among the best anime I've watched

Getter Robo is an absolute Classic. The story is rather basic by Super Robot manga standards, but that’s because it was one of the first of it’s kind, and it shows. The series doesn’t feel like it’s ripping off anything, despite effectively playing straight most super robot tropes. The structure of the story is a massive help with this. That is, the manga is rather short chapter-wise, being only 13 chapters, plus a prologue and a comedy special, that does not mean it’s short, each chapter is very long, with it not being unusual for a single chapter to exceed 100 pages in length. This ... structure works to it’s benefit, however, with the story simultaneously given a lot of time to focus on the story of a single chapter, and not having enough chapters to have filler. This makes for a very serialized plot, with each chapter adding a new element to the story, and nothing feeling unimportant enough to to skip over or dragged out enough to make you want to skip a chapter.

The characters, while not the series’ biggest selling point, are interesting in their own ways. The Getter pilots themselves aren’t exactly the most heroic bunch, with each of their respective introductions painting them in a pretty bad light, and their subsequent actions as pilots not exactly changing said representations. Despite this, they rarely feel unsympathetic, with each of them having a great deal of compassion and emotion beneath their seemingly unappealing exteriors. This makes for a cast that stands out and is easy to remember, with each of the cast being fleshed out in the time they have on screen, and their respective traits plus their aforementioned moral complexity makes them stand out and stick in your mind easily. The villains also deserve a mention. While the Dinosaur Empire is rather bog-standard as far as Super Robot series go, they do have their moments in which you genuinely sympathize with and even feel sorry for them, a rarity for a 70s series.

Being a shounen battle series, Getter Robo has a focus on action, and boy does it deliver. The first few chapters are rather lacking in action, being focused primarily on introducing us to the characters and antagonists. But when the Getter Robo first forms and combats the mechasaurs, the manga as a whole gets better. Everything from the character dialogue to the art takes a noticeable upturn after the Getter’s debut, and the fights themselves easily hold up even compared to modern day shows.

Overall, this series was enjoyable from beginning to end, and I would recommend it to someone else any day.