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“The egg is a germ of life with a lofty symbolical significance. It is not just a cosmogonic symbol — it is also a “philosophical one”. As the former it is the Orphic Egg, the world’s beginning; as the latter, the philosophical egg of the medieval natural philosophers, the vessel from which, at the end of the opus alchymicum, the homunculus emerges… the spiritual, inner, and complete man.” — C.G. Jung

Angel’s Egg, the 1985 film directed by Mamoru Oshi, is an enigmatic tour de force. It offers exiguous amounts of dialogue and challenges the viewer to scrutinize every last visual detail in order to ... unlock the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of the abyss. Therefore, my hope is to unravel these cryptic elements through psychological means to unearth the key thematic elements and the overall core message.

The first image we see is a pair of child’s hands that eventually morph into an adult hand. We can see this as a transformation process that is going to occur throughout the film, and how the trial will involve a certain challenge that will need to be overcome. A challenge that will be quite painful. Now why start a film with the hands of two different people. Unbeknownst to many, hands offer great insight into a person’s inner psychology. We see annoyance one someone taps their fingers, provocativeness when run through hair, inner tension when they are interlocked, and even talk to others via formulating clearer thoughts and emphasizing certain points. In effect, the hands are inseparably linked to one’s psyche, offering a great deal of information to careful observers. In the case of the film, the child’s hand are free-flowing, in a state of play and discovery; whereas the adult hand is rigid, strained and focus on a specific task.

Next, we see an unhatched bird inside an egg, the heart is beating and the eyes begin to flicker as a white light envelopes the screen. We can analogize this with the world egg, which Renee Guenon noted is equivalent to the spiritual “germ” that is symbolically one in the same with the heart. It also harkens to the idea of the cosmic egg, a renowned symbol that has been featured in Egyptian, Babylonian, Hindu, and Greek mythologies. The embryonic darkness represents the primeval waters of the collective unconscious. The collective unconscious being the part of the human psyche in which the archetypes reside, which manifest through symbols, mythologies, and patterns. Prior to the ‘awakening’ of the conscious self one exist within the egg, per se. An adolescent state where the ego-consciousness has not fully established differentiated itself from the vast layers of the unconscious realm. This is equivalent to a child-like state where the adolescent hasn’t fully acquired the “I” or “me”. This is akin to the idea of the ouroboros. Eric Neumann, Jungian psychologist, state the cyclical state represents the pre-ego “dawn state,” depicting the undifferentiated infancy experience of both mankind and the individual child.

The next scene features a cryptic man holding an object that looks like a cross. A gigantic eye with statues of people praying descends to the surface. The eye itself represents the deity of this strange world. In the psychological sense, the God that lives within all of us is an evolving being who has only the human psyche available for it to ‘see’ the world. Symbols like the “All Seeing Eye” and the “Eye of Providence” come to mind. The omniscience of such a being — through the psychological view — represents the totality of all psychic content within an individuals brain. Unfortunately, with such a disposition, God cannot directly reveal himself through us to accelerate our own psychological/spiritual growth. Hence, God’s word must be passed down through the ‘Word’ so as to permit the union of psychological opposites (i.e. conscious and unconscious).

Unsurprisingly, the girl who will become the impetus for the movie, is found fast asleep. Informing the viewer that her psychological state corresponds to the unhatched egg; a vessel that holds great potential, but ultimately resides in the domain of the collective unconscious (throughout the movie, I’ll point out the mythological motifs and primordial images that originate from this area of the psyche). The first one occurs when the girl leaves, what I would describe is a cave to see a bright red sky. Red had a dual meaning: it means blood (the life force of the body) and affectivity (which refers to emotions that we experience and display). Thus, red symbolizes the joining together of spirit to body.

The dichotomy of black and red marks the differentiation between conscious and unconscious. The black color represents the alchemic nigredo, which is a dark state that is associated with death. A ghastly night grows their own awareness by becoming more aware of their own shadow aspects. The shadow being unrecognized, unacknowledged, and shunned aspects that ultimately reached down into our animalistic aspects that are often considered shameful and evil. The problem, however, is that the shadow holds great creative potential in the way of creative impulses, and can be used to one’s benefit if properly integrated. To properly integrate such contents, one must endure a spiritual death. The next stage is considered the whitening (Albedo) — represented by the girl’s skin color and hair — which focuses on the communication between the unconscious and conscious aspects of the psyche.

This stage establishes a relationship with the archetypal Self via bringing the unconscious energies to the conscious light. To bring cohesion to dark and light energies, metaphorically speaking, to make the psyche whole.

After one confronts the shadow through the Nigredo phase, and establishes a connection between the unconscious and conscious aspects of the psyche through the Albedo phase, one then undergoes the the Citrinitas, the yellowing stage. You may notice that yellow is now represented in the picture, and there’s a reason behind this. Around the 16th century the colors were reduced to three, and even analytical psycholgist, Carl Jung, compressed the rubedo (the reddening), into the end of the second phase.

As we will see by the end of the movie, the “yellow death” marks the end of the “lunar light” (i.e. unconscious) influence as the consciousness awakens to a newly discovered knowledge of the self. It signifies the breaking of the egg so that the psychological yolk can expand its awareness from the interior to turn its awareness outward, to the physical world. Finally, the process culminates in the return to earth, to fully incarnate the awakened consciousness through the symbiotic fusion of heaven and earth. Conscious and unconscious are now united as one, forging the philosopher’s stone (the individuation process) to full realize the expression of the authentic self. This final step is known as the reddening and is marked as a final mortification and re-birth.

With this alchemic/psychological process in mind, we can finally move forward. The next scene of note occurs when the girl fills a container with pure water.

“For the alchemists the vessel is something truly marvelous…It must be completely round, in imitation of the spherical cosmos, so that the influence of the stars may contribute to the success of the operation. It is a kind of matrix or uterus from which the filius philosophorum [the philosopher’s child, which is equivalent to the philosopher’s stone or the individuation process]…is to be born. Hence it is required that the vessel be not only round but egg-shaped.” — C.G. Jung

The round vessel is synonymous with the soul, the psyche in its totality. Water, being the commonest symbol of the unconscious, demonstrates the girls current psychological state; that being complete submersion at this point in the story. However, water also serves as a place of transformation; Proteus, a greek, prophetic sea god, had the ability to transform into a lion, serpent, or even a tree. Notice how the reflection of the vessel reflects the girl’s head, immersed in water (i.e. the unconscious), and displays a white tree surrounded by the darkness. The idea is that her psychological contents are distinct and separate; the inner light is shielding off the terrors of the night, but it seems as though they’re overwhelming the area.

To escape a conscious confrontation with the darkness, she drinks from the waters of the unconscious to preserve her dream-like state. Circumventing this dilemma proliferates her own psychological shadow as noted by the expanding shadow of the tree in the waters of the unconscious. The last image shows the structure they were on, which resembles the

“A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” — Jean de La Fontaine.

The girl is evading a troubling time in her life, and as we will see later on, is real a fully-grown adult that needs to transcend her own psychological adolescence. The tree also symbolizes the beginning and the end. The beginning of the burgeoning ego-consciousness and the eventual return into the collective to reunite with the Self. The girl is initiating the blackening phase in which she must confront her own shadow and the savage elements of the human psyche.

The girl proceeds to roam an uninhabited city. Crumbling structures with overcast skies pervade the land, water is everywhere with elements of dragon/fish statues. A metal wiring designed like a heart demonstrates the emptiness and disregard of her own heart. Think of this world as emblematic of the totality of her own psyche. Every structure and occurrence has relevance to her own inner tumult. Militaristic vehicles pass the girl by in a cyclical fashion. This ruthless, repetitive sequence harkens to the animalistic ouroboros that resides within all of us. The instinctual urges that often suppressed by the norms of society lie dormant within us, and will eventually seek expression in the external world. If left dormant, it can create internal rot that drain vitality and a disconnection with society at large, leading to anxiety and depression.

A mysterious man jumps from one of the vehicles, crossing the the barrier of the collective unconscious (the uroboros) to make contact with the ego-consciousness.

“But the serpent is also life. In the image furnished by the ancients, the serpent put an end to the childlike magnificence of paradise; they even said that Christ himself has been a serpent.” — C.G. Jung

The man, for all intents and purposes, is Christ. The archetypal Self and the mediator between the unconscious and conscious realms. He thusly serves as a magnet to pull in the ego-consciousness to cultivate the state of wholeness, the imago dei (the image of God in man). However, the purely altruistic Christ does not perfectly emulate the psyche in its totality, as it neglects its compensatory opposite (i.e. the antichrist); hence the necessity of the devil. In Angel’s egg, however, we will see that this man embodies good and evil, serving as a viable representation of the Self, and the citrinitas phase that brings about the “yellow death” and the awakening of the consciousness to the true Self. As this is verified by the yellowish-brown cross the man carries, with the red circle in the center.

The girl initially runs away from burden of confronting herself, desperately clutching her egg for comfort. This is reminiscent of the Bosch, “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” in which people reenter the metaphorical egg, the center of unconscious energies. Unfortunately, this is the reverse of individuation. Instead of merging the unconscious energies with the conscious ones, it’s seeking to submerge the conscious energies under the weight of the chthonic realms so as to obviate reality. In such cases, we may liken this the psychology of a man-child, or in this case a woman-child, who doesn’t take on the responsibilities of life, inhibiting growth to their own detriment.

“Behold the secret conspiracy between mother and sons [father and daughter], and how each helps the other to betray life.” — C.G. Jung

The girl then finds a vessel with a red liquid, representing the reddening. Notice how she pours the liquid onto the ground, disregarding her own psychological growth. She then immediately tries to fill the vessel with water from a snake like fountain, but the container won’t fill. It seems this world is a transient residence that will eventually need to be vacated. A reencounter with the Christ-like figure reminds her of the urgent task that needs to be undertaken.

“Keep precious things inside you, or you will lose them.” -- Man with Cross

This harkens to the idea of the Peur and Puella Aeternus, the eternal child, who lives a provisional lifestyle and doesn’t embrace the challenges of life. Think of this as The Peter Pan syndrome, describing someone who wants to remain precious, like the egg, and never truly open up to society or the real world. Now a child-like personality can be enjoyable and the life of the party, but ultimately reaches the eventual roadblock of failed progress, revealing failed growth as an individual. They thus never grow up and hatch into the bird they must become.

“You have to break an egg if you are to know what is inside.” -- Man with Cross

The girl immediately runs away from this life challenge. Not matter how hard she tries, however, the importance of the task follows her and weighs down on her. She walks past bars that project a shadowy prison on her body. Inadvertenly, attempts at avoiding the world create a prison in which existential reality is a form of bondage. One cannot truly call themselves free if the are stagnated and refuse to face up to the responsibilities of growing up.

The fish hunters emerge, eliciting images of man’s most primal form — that of the savage hunter. They chase the shadow of a fish. The redeemer is synonymous with the fish or serpent, and the desperate men seek to skewer the fish. They aim to assassinate their inner Christ through force and aggression. Despite this, their attempts prove ineffectual. The idea is that one cannot supercede the inner workings of the mind, and will become subservient to it if it seeks total psychological dominance.

“If a plant is to unfold its specific nature to the full, it must first be able to grow in the soil in which it is planted.” — C.G. Jung

Anger, also, creates distinctions and boundaries, and if boundaries are broken it precipitates revenge and possession of the shadow. Hence the reason the man are mere illusions, shadows running through the streets.

The fish itself is known as a Coelacanth, considered a “living fossil” since it has remained relatively unchanged since its days with the dinosaurs. As such, we may liken the Coelacanth to the ancient structures of the human brain that are wired for survival (i.e. the brain stem and Thalamus). The brain stem is the oldest structure of the human brain, serving to control breathing, heart rate, attention, and motor responses. The brain stem is also connected to the spinal cord, on the bottom, and the Thalamus, on top. The Thalamus, coincidentally enough, is an egg-shaped structure that lies at the center of the brain, which acts as a hub to relay information. The Thalamus plays a pivotal role in sleep by shutting off incoming signals. Furthermore, recent studies investigating the mediodorsal Thalamus in mice, have shown that enhancing it will magnify the ability to “think.”

Coelacanth females retain fertilized eggs within their bodies during the gestation period. The egg is then hatched within the female, which harkens to the man/woman-child who is born in the physical world, but remains within the confines of their parents protection. And because the Coelacanth is a fish that has stagnated in its evolution, it foretells of a hampered development for anyone doesn’t seek to burst through the egg and branch out from their parents supervision.

We then see the Christ-like man sitting against a door like resembles the human brain. We know this by the marked line down the middle which separates the left from right hemisphere. The man sits the middle, representing the archetypal self — the combination of conscious and unconscious energies. The girl inside the cathedral begins to stare at a reflection of herself as a child. This image pleases her, embracing her adolescence in full while simultaneously neglecting the challenges of life and waiting for her metaphorical ship to sail in and resolve all ongoing issues. Yet the shadow of the fish — the Self — glides over her, signifying the impending change that must follow. In this regard, we would view the Fish Jave as rebellious elements within the girl’s psyche whom are attempting to prevent the fish from enacting the necessary psychological changes. The necessary impetus to deliver the girl from adolescence to adulthood.

The girl begs the man not to harm the egg, but his raison d’être is not in line with want she wants, but with what she needs. The man touches a stone wall with a carving of a giant tree, relating to the cosmic tree talked about earlier. He talks about the branches clutching onto an egg with a giant bird inside. We later find out this bird is an angel. The girl wishes to hatch the egg and birth such a being. Now with egg representing her unhatched unconscious state, the conception of an angel would be her rebirth into contradiction. Angels, after all, are purely benevolent in the nature with no harboring of evil or wickedness. Such a psychological state for the girl would beget the enantiodromia, a compensatory spirit that exhibited signs of death — hence the reason we only see the angel’s bones.

“The angels are a strange genus: they are precisely what they are and cannot be anything else. They are in themselves soulless beings who represent nothing but the thoughts and intuitions of their Lord.” — C.G. Jung

Aiming for this angelic life would diminish the animalistic impulses and reject the rhythms of the unconscious altogether. Angels, after all, are fanciful illusions that exist to assuage adolescents about the rigors of life. It is thusly a rejection of life and an acceptance of a weakened spirit. It would be a failed attempt at individuation and would most certainly have consequences done the line. But the Christ-like man offers hope to the girl. He recites the story of of Noah’s ark which centers on an interesting dilemma that many of us face in our lives in a symbolic sense. The idea of the story is that the great flood washes away the corruption and violence of the psyche. The disdain the ego-conscious feels towards its psychological opposite is thusly washed away in the the torrential downpour.

Of course, not everything is swept away by the massive currents, certain vital aspects are still vital to hold onto. The metaphorical ark serves as the protective container for these attributes that help us retain our individuality. The ark also floats on the waters of the unconscious, preventing the ego-consciousness from being completely submerged into the depths. Now even though the flood myth involves the destruction of all flesh on land, the two animals of each kind reminds the reader that the whole process is akin to rebirth. Eradicate the the old, prehistoric contents so that we may bring about new life.

The dove that flies away and doesn’t return signifies the crux of the story. It is not know what became of the bird, because we ourselves are the bird. The birds that hatch from the captive world soul of the egg will either rise into the domain of air between heaven and earth, creating a balance and integration of the two; or, conversely, becoming a fallen angel who is eliminated by God’s wrath. The Christ-like man has no recourse at this, he must enact a drastic measure before the girl’s dream comes crashing down. In reality, he must wake her up so as to discover the truth about who she really is. A person frozen in adolescence will never become their true Self. After the girl falls asleep, the Chris-like man careful grabs the egg from the bed and places it on the ground. He methodically raises his cross in the air, bringing it to its peak. He then smashes the egg with the cross.

“By bearing the cross of incarnation, like the Cosmic Christ before us, we can know the light of our Inner spiritual cross of Illumination, Resurrection, and Salvation.” — C.G. Jung

An outpouring of water floods the city. The rising tides remind the individual that the unconsciousness is vast, swift, and unyielding. Much like water reveals the weaknesses in infrastructure, so does the unconscious uncover the fragility of our soul, of our psyche. It may sound counterproductive to disintegrate ourselves in such a vigorous fashion, but without such an act, we can never hope to reconstruct ourselves into the stalwart people we hope to become. After all, we must perish, if we hope to reincarnate our sprit. The girl finds the egg, evoking immediate despair. There is reversing course. The deed is done and now a choice must be made. Allow the grief to suffocate her by having onto the false hope of an angel, or confront the watery depths, confront the inner spirit, the inner shadow that has been lurking inside her this whole time.

She approaches the real version of herself, the version that was cast away into the watery underworld. As the two meet at the surface point of the water — the symbolic nexus point of the girl’s psyche — they embrace with a soft kiss. This conscious transference permits the adult version of the girl to direct the ego-conscious henceforward. If we are to think of the girl’s level of awareness throughout the movie, she existed in a psychological state known as participation mystique. This condition pervades adolescents who haven’t yet differentiated their consciousness from their parents and will often establish a psychological unity with them. We can also see this in people who become overly infatuated with actors or sports athletes, forming an unconscious identity with them and becoming attached to their life’s. In the girl’s case, she became spellbound by the egg, placing it under her dress as if it were apart of her.

The cracking of the egg was a cracking of her soul. But the girl needed this harsh reminder, for she is not the egg. She is the not the angel she hoped to become. She is exactly who she is, a sleeping adult who needs to actualize the expansion of her ego-conscious and merge it with the unconscious to forge the Self.

“People with a narrow conscious life exteriorize their unconscious, they are continually in participation mystique with other people…if more unconscious things have become conscious to you, then you live less in participation mystique.” — C.G. Jung

Once the kiss is complete, the adolescent version of the girl disappears, leaving only the adult woman. She sinks into the depths of the caliginous water, into the depths of her own psychological shadow, readying herself for the delivery of a new Self. She expels a mass of bubbles that ascend from the womb to greet the world in the form of an egg — in the form of potential and life.

“Consciousness does not create itself—it wells up from unknown depths. In childhood it awakens gradually, and all through life it wakes each morning out of the depths of sleep from an unconscious condition. It is like a child that is born daily out of the primordial womb of the unconscious..." — C.G. Jung

The ripples from the egg lead us to a tree, a spiritual tree. One which harkens to the kabbalistic tree of life, whose roots reach the chthonic realm with branches bridging toward heaven. Notice the differences with these eggs from the one we saw in the beginning of the movie. The original egg contained an infant birth with white roots, representing the naïveté of the girl. The tree was also small in stature, and it was the only tree of its kind. The trees at the end of the movie are plentiful, representing the differentiating consciousness and the burgeoning archetypal personalities that are now integrating themselves in the realm of conscious awareness.

Archetypes, according to Jung, are primordial behavior patterns, and are innate qualities much like instincts. This means they are prefigured tendencies that shape decisions, though, and behavior. This may explain why people naturally root for an underdog, or why mothers are seen as nurturing, or why children are viewed as innocent. If we view the girl from this lease, we can see she fell into the innocent archetype to a "T." Displaying a belief in a happy ending, living a simple life, and ignoring the bad happenings around her. But the God within — through the power of Logos (i.e. the christ-like man) — cracked her archetypal egg of innocence so that she could receive the benefit of all the archetypal eggs within her psyche. We even see an egg that has a phallic looking rock underneath it, representing the girl’s masculine attributes and tendencies (i.e. the animus). The rising eye/god/sun represents the rubedo process of the alchemic reaction we talked about at the beginning. The philosopher’s stone — the individuation process — has now manifested, eliciting enlightenment and new knowledge about the Self.

The movie culminates with the inner God soaring up from the unconscious realm to reveal the girl set in stone. She has closed the chapter on her childhood. She has solidified her yearnings for innocence and fanciful beliefs, and has moved on the the next stage in her life. The camera pans away from the asteroid-like planet to showcase the dichotomy between light and dark; conscious and unconscious; the left hemisphere and the right hemisphere of the brain; the duality of man, or, in this case, woman.

“In order to eat, you have to be hungry. In order to learn, you have to be ignorant. Ignorance is a condition of learning. Pain is a condition of health. Passion is a condition of thought. Death is a condition of life.” — Robert Anton Wilson

Shinji: **exists**
Gendo: Get in the manga, Shinji

Shinji: Can I cum inside?
Gendo: No…that’ll make the pages sticky.

The 1995 Neon Genesis Evangelion anime, directed by Hideaki Anno, ingratiated the fandom into esoteric concepts that were rarely — if ever! — considered by the layperson. Furthermore, it offered little in the way of clarifying the concepts it was symbolically alluding to; plus, the staff deliberately deceived viewers into thinking the religious elements were inconsequential to the thematic elements and character arcs, when that couldn’t be further from the truth; and this becomes obvious when one reads the 1994 manga by Yoshiyuki Sadamoto.

It should be noted that ... Mr. Sadamoto played a critical role in the original series, The End of Evangelion (EoE), and the rebuild movies; therefore, his ‘unraveling’ of the ambiguous concepts Anno exhibited can be viewed as legitimate. The ideas of integrating one’s ‘shadow’ (unexpressed half) through externalizing the dionysian/animalistic desires, understanding the angels/gods as manifestations of one’s inner psyche, and identifying/rectifying the imbalances of one’s inner world can be taken as vital components of the evangelion mythos. But could this elucidation be more of hindrance than a help? Artistic works thrive on enigma — particularly, evangelion — thus, allowing one to discover facets about themselves whilst coming to an understanding about the series.

While Mr. Sadamoto’s approach was more ‘direct,’ it did not take away from the primary aims of the story. In fact, elaborating on Kaji’s backstory was a benefit to the narrative, as it provided context about the world (post Second Impact) and offered an understanding regarding his motivations. Seele’s gnostic/kabbalistic beliefs were more transparent, but not enough so to make them any less interesting as a clandestine organization. I’m sure some will view these extra details as superfluous, taking away from what should have been inaccessible. Art has an aspect of the infinite — through its boundless interpretations —and through crystallizing core concepts, Mr. Sadamoto, somewhat, undermined Anno’s organic, psychological emesis.

In other words, Sadamoto provided the Apollonian interpretation to Anno’s Dionysian eruption. It’s a different means of achieving the same ends. One is an artistic tour de force that attempts to stimulate the ‘dark’ energies of the abyss; while the other grabs your hand — like a psychologist of sorts — and gives a road map for how to proceed. In this sense, the manga can be seen as less ‘deep,’ but is depth the criteria for ‘greatness’…or is execution the standard of standards? Miyazaki’s films are by no means convoluted, but ‘My Neighbor Totoro’ stands among the select few of precipitating one’s most inner feelings. Complexity is not a precursor for success. Sadamoto’s execution of Anno’s themes are what matters, and in this regard, he succeeded with flying colors.

In regards to the artwork, it is exceptional-to-great. Sadamoto’s character designs are distinct, yet at the same time, they feel ubiquitous. I would imagine numerous Japanese teenagers could see themselves in Shinji, which allows them to vicariously experience his tumult and apply his lessons to their own lives. Depression, after all, is a pervading element for the human species, one in which we all experience (either transiently or chronically). Sadamoto, like Anno, captures the introverted tendencies of the depressed individual and offered a male/female solution for confronting this ailment. Perhaps ‘aliment’ is not the correct word, as depression is more of a ‘call-to-action,’ an internal demand to become who we truly are!

How to make a furry anime melancholic, when all the past evidence suggest that anthropomorphic animals are reserved for satire bits and comedic relief? Paru Itagaki, the Mangaka for Beastars, accomplished this feat via capsizing the outward facade of modern society to reveal its unsightly underbelly and its multitude of (un)conscious biases. She then interwove society’s biggest failings — as she saw it — into the narrative structure of the Beastars universe to open up a dialogue that most are unwillingly to entertain in today’s politically charged climate. It was provocative. It was slightly awkward to read. And it provoked ... the reader to consider social issues in a new light and reconsider previously held beliefs. The fact that Paru utilized an animal society to confront these issues was quite clever on her part because it dissuaded the reader from identifying with their own ethnic lineage; thus, permitting an impartial viewpoint in which all sides were consider in relatively equal fashion.

Legosi, the meek protagonist of Beastars, is an introvert par excellence. His aspirations are nothing to be emulated, as it mostly included staying out of troubled and avoiding unnecessary conflict. Yet this unfortunate disposition is not unlike the average, non-jock experience while in the throes of high-school. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that most readers could vicariously live through Legosi’s experiences, because they may have been there themselves: navigating through a ‘jungle’ of teenage angst and pent-up hormonal urges. Yet the expectation to maintain one’s composure whilst preparing for a life long vocation is no easy task, as exemplified through Legosi’s inner tumult.

The catalyst for Legosi’s journey begins, unsurprisingly, with a woman. Unable to contain his lust for meat, Legosi attacks an unsuspecting female rabbit, Haru, in the dead of night. On the surface, it is a carnivore attacking a herbivore to satiate his craving for meat — which is a crime in the Beastars society — however, as noted by later clues, this incident is more akin to sexual assault. In fact, Legosi outright asserts this notion when prowling the streets with Panda to reign in predatiorial offenders. But rather than simply analogize these two parallel concepts, it would be more instructive to examine the root cause for these abhorrent acts to understand why they happen, and what Paru wants us to learn from them.

While society mostly dismisses sexual predators as vile individuals who are beyond redemption, Paru takes a different tact. She ‘humanizes’ the characters to demonstrate that abhorrence comes from an inner vexation with one’s own ‘failure.’ The ‘failure’ referenced is, of course, sexual frustration. A pervasive sentiment amongst today’s young men as they find themselves beholden to a women’s decision. But it is deeper than this, much deeper (excuse the inadvertent pun). The underlying concern arises from the need to feel emotionally connected to another individual. Teenagers tend to disconnect from their parents in an effort to establish themselves; thus creating a void in which they must find someone who understands them, and provides constructive challenges to improve their overall disposition and happiness.

Legosi falls into this sexual/emotional pit early on due an absent father, and a mother who prematurely took her own life. Consequently, despite his aloof personality, he desperately seeked acceptance from others; hence his conciliatory approach toward social situations. But this was not sufficient. He wanted what everyone wants: someone to accept him…for him. Legosi’s high-school journey, however, was mired in persistent bullying and social rejection; as a result, an inner ‘monster’ swelled deep within him and unleashed its repugnance in the most heinous way imaginable. At a later point in the manga, Legosi divulge this information to the ghetto psychiatrist, Gouhin. Upon hearing this, the large panda immediately scolded Legosi for conflating his feelings of love with predatory instincts — which is an interesting choice of words. Because Paru could have easily written ‘carnivore instincts,’ but she chose ‘predatory’ in an attempt to parallel predatorial offenders with sexual offenders (as mentioned earlier).

Another individual who falls ‘prey’ to the strictures of modern culture — much like Legosi — is Riz, the brown bear. Now, to understand Riz is to broach a topic that is relatively taboo in modern times: that is (homo)sexuality. While most industrial societies are becoming increasingly tolerant of such relationships, there is still an undercurrent of social pressure that intimidates young boys, in particular, to chase after women instead of exploring other inclinations. Whether it be a stern father or a group of friends, manhood — as they will tell you! — cannot be ached through homosexuality. Hence, bicurious men mute certain aspects of their personality via passive behavior to dissuade the notion of divergent proclivities. This correlates to how Riz takes force limiting pills to minimize the fearsome aspects of his personality. In both scenarios, the individual projects a persona in which they are not; yet this all changes when Riz fosters a relationship with Tem, and begins to contemplate the idea of revealing his true self.

But Riz’s confession does not yield the result he was looking for, causing him to divorce himself from his abhorrent predatorial incident via reimagining what happened. This pivotal moment is akin to a man coming out of the closet, and how the rejection could warp his sense of reality and self. The theory that Riz is an allegorical representation of an emergent homosexual is supported by the following evidence: 1) When Legosi kissed Riz in chapter 60, the brown bear was in a missionary position over the wolf and subsequently ran away in embarrassment; 2) Riz licked Pina’s fingers in a sexually suggestive manner, and Pina was the first person to (repeatedly) visit the bear in Juvie; and 3) when Riz reminisced about his predatorial incident, he imagined Tem gazing at him with affection and an erect tail (a tail that was drawn to look phallic).

In addition, the decisive battle between Riz and Legosi was rich in subtext. Legosi’s predatorial incident, in which he ate Louis’ right leg, could be viewed as a bicurious, sexual act; especially considering Legosi’s subsequent remark: “Louis-senpai is here as we speak…and…he’s inside me.” To which Louis responds with the ‘climatic’ exasperation, “GO, LEGOSI!!!” Unlike Riz, however, Legosi and Louis are not gay…not quite, at least. According to Ritch Savin-Williams, a professor emeritus of developmental psychology, sexuality exist on a spectrum in which no one person is one-hundred percent gay of straight. In fact, given the correct circumstances, literally anyone could have a same-sex encounter. What Paru brought to the reader’s attention, is that shunning those desires — like Riz and Legosi did — is not healthy from an emotional or psychological standpoint.

After the ‘Murder Incident Solution’ arc, things quelled down a bit for Legosi. Until the grey wolf came into contact with the current Beastar, Yafya, who did not take kindly to Legosi’s predatorial incident. He then insisted that the grey wolf apologize for being born a carnivore. One could liken this confrontation to an example of white-privilege…or, let’s call it herbivore privilege. To exemplify this point, consider the following: Louis pulled a gun on Bill in school and later killed the leader of the Shishigumi (right or wrong, murder is murder), yet the red dear was never charged with a crime; Legosi, on the other hand, with the permission of Louis, ate his right foot to defeat Riz and solved the year long case surrounding Tem’s death…yet, he was criminally charged with the status of predatorial offender and considered a menace to society. In fact, because certain barriers were put in place for carnivores, many of them felt maligned and henceforth drifted toward the criminal underworld.

Speaking of which, this brings up the most complex character in all of Beastars…the not so sweet gazelle-leopard, Melon. To talk about Melon, however, is to also discuss Leano, Legosi’s mother; as both tackle a challenge that was forced upon them at birth. This is not to claim that Melon or Leano’s parents were in the wrong for deciding to have a ‘bispecies’ child — although the latter couple were ill-suited for other reasons — nevertheless, it brought about unforeseen dilemmas that were not easily reconciled. For Leano, she went through a physical transformation that destroyed her beauty, leading to her suicide; for Melon, he could not savor the taste of food (particularly meat), causing him to indulge in hazardous activities and masochism. Melon also displayed symptoms of ennui and weltschmerz (a depressive state in which the world does not reflect your ideal vision). This is why Melon splurged ‘spicy mustard’ into the ‘bland’ bowl of life. He wanted to feel something! He wanted to feel alive! And if he couldn’t…he’d kill himself in the process. This is not to excuse his ghastly behavior — but like Riz and Legosi — understanding where this behavior originates from is the first step in mitigating its influence over society.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the message Paru attempt to impart to the audience: understanding…or, lack thereof. If members of all societies could take a moment to vicariously think about the challenges of others, then we’d all be better off! And the reason this message is incredibly powerful and effective, is because it never pointed the finger, never felt forced, and it never drew the line between ‘right and ‘wrong.’ Paru simply presented each allegorical situation as a case study, allowed events to play out, and gave the reader the opportunity to interpret the outcomes as they saw fit. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like life. And the brilliance of it all was that Paru embraced all of the tropes and clichés that were mentioned in the introductory statement. She engaged the ‘casuals’ (who seek excitement above all else) and the ‘elitist’ (who engage in contemplative, artistic works) into the perfect marriage. Think about it: Beastars is a meta allegory about the anime fandom itself! — bringing together two incompatible groups of anime enthusiasts and turning them all furry!

…And that people, is called jazz.

Attack on Titan meets Gurren Lagann with a side of Nausicaä-styled monster-bugs in an MMORPG format to produce a… mediocre-to-bad anime. Actually, it’s more awful than anything else.

The post-apocalyptic motif is the flavor of the year, given all the calamitous events of 2020 (COVID-19 pandemic; crap anime; raging, uncontrollable fires; more crap anime; locust swarms in Africa and India; and then there’s Gibiate, which is too horrifying to put words to). But in the universe of Deca-Dence, the dystopian society in which the characters find themselves in is not frightful or nightmarish; rather, it’s just bland and sweepingly devoid of any essence of ... ‘life.’ The problem derives from the characters’ cliched personalities that serve as superficial representations of how humans respond to these situations. Frankly speaking, the hollowness of Deca-Dence’s characters was reminiscent of the mechanical, unthinking first-person protagonist in any video game; someone who spouts humdrum dialogue and is controlled to act in a formulaic manner. In essence, I couldn’t empathize with them; which becomes a hindrance when certain death (cop-outs) occur.

Natsume’s aspiration of becoming a ‘Gear’ falls in line with every disenchanted Shōnen protagonist who gets told, “no,” at first, but continues nonetheless because they’ve got unsurpassed determination (and special “blah, blah, blah” that makes them… well, special). Kaburagi, Natsume’s reluctant teacher, offers no interesting nuances to the mentor archetype in the hero’s journey. Even Kaburagi’s Vegeta-esque, rage outburst was a cheap mimicry that did nothing to add to the story or his growth as a character; he is as straightforward as a ruler, which makes him all to predictable and beyond boring.

Now, while the plot did throw the viewer for an early loop — via concealing its true intention — it wasn’t the type of surprise that instilled optimism or a state of shock; on the contrary, it lacked the necessary impact that its predecessor (AoT) pulled off with style and conviction. This disappointment was compounded further with the pedestrian animation that offered no signs of splendor, making it a tepid affair from beginning to end. Additionally, the omega type Gadoll in episode 11 — i.e., the armored (Red) Lobster of doom — was far from ‘buttery-smooth’… i-in aesthetics (could you imagine the seafood cracker you’d need to eat this behemoth!). Furthermore, the fortress city of Deca-dence, itself, was just a mishmash of mundane protuberances that left little-to-no impression in this viewer’s mind.

All in all, the passionless messaging and vacuous thematic elements, made Deca-dence the perfect symbol of the declining state of anime in the modern age — making its name, ‘decadence’ (i.e. a state of decline), quite appropriate.

Pre-adult years take the pliability of the adolescent brain to form a cast iron organ that is efficient in carrying out repeated tasks, but ineffectual in navigating untrained ones. This reference is not so much a commentary on Takako and Akiko’s maturation — although, it could be interpreted as such — but on Ichirou’s rigid demeanor and unruly temperament.

Hardened by a demanding work schedule and what the reader can only imagine as a stringent upbringing, Ichirou is an exemplar of the common idiom, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Hence, his transference of corporate incentivization techniques does not coalesce with the ... sensibilities of the female cohort in the house. Yet this does not deter him from prodding into his daughters’ affairs to the point of imperiousness; causing Takako, the youngest daughter, to resent her father via verbal antagonism. And it is the catalyst of the tyrannical father — combined with the absent father/mother — that served as the impetus for all of the abhorrence that took place in this dysfunctional, family tale.

The downward spiral begins with Akikio, the eldest sister, being drugged and raped by an assemblage of various misfits and outcasts. The vile, self-anointed leader of this gang, Kakuma, not only violates the two sisters ad nauseam, but uses one of his cronies, Imada, to take numerous pictures for the purposes of blackmail. Naoki Yamamoto, the mangaka of Arigatou, did not write the character of Kakuma with the intention of having the reader empathize with him; to the contrary, Kakuma is a rotten individual that is loathsome and disgusting in every respect; however he, much like the other characters in Arigatou, is the product of two derelict parents who failed in providing a nurturing influence and a disciplinary regimen to prevent such abhorrent behavior. Of course, an over-abundance of discipline can lead to the Suzuki family state of affairs: where the eldest daughter becomes a paranoid shut-in, and the youngest daughter runs away from home. Despite the manifold of ongoing psychological disturbances, however, Arigatou is largely a character driven comedy via the ridiculous, carte blanche antics of Ichirou, as he desperately attempts to pull his ever diverging family back together.

Interestingly enough, the amalgamation of wacky comedy with intense psycho-social issues is largely a success. Primarily because the disturbing tone of the initial chapters makes the reader appalled — and even nauseated — from the abject depravity each page brings, but when the tone suddenly shifts (seemingly, from nowhere), it comes as such a shock that the viewer has no choice but to burst out of their silence with a hearty chortle. But what began as a clever ploy to subvert the reader’s expectations and to keep them off kilter, quickly became derivative humor that was redundant on more than one occasion. In its totality, though, the comedy was a nice addition that seamlessly added layers of depth to the Suzuki family that made them feel all the more relatable.

Much like the comedy, when the plot hit its high-water mark (in the early to middle chapters), it was absolute brilliance, but the nadir left the reader yearning for something more substantial. Also, the subtle clues of someone potentially dying, and the drastic shift in tone in the final chapters made the ending quizzically inexplicable. It is not as though “happy endings” should be shunned, but the “spirit” of the story was melancholic through and through; featuring detestable acts that ranged from forced-sex to crooked cults, and even an incident where a dude got his dick cut off. So, to have such a peaceful resolution to all the tumultuous behavior, evaded the dysphoric ending that many readers were expecting.

Despite the relatively harsh criticisms this review levied, Arigatou is an essential read that contains a handful of truly great moments that will knock your socks off (possibly the rest of your clothes, too). But a few glaring issues — especially the subpar-to-average art style — left Arigatou unworthy of attaining the status of “great.” Despite this, the impression it leaves on the psyche is quite profound and will make the reader reconsider their own interpersonal relationships with their own family.

And for that: thank you, Mr. Yamamoto!

“The spaces between the lines on a page epitomize the bulk of your life… but oh does that not make for a banal narrative?” — Krunchyman

Has Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata taught us nothing about the art of slice-of-life? Over the years, I have entertained a myriad of the aforementioned genre in hopes of finding a relative facsimile of the famed Studio Ghibili. Shows like Mushishi, Haibane Renmei, A Whisker Away and A Silent Voice have been nothing short of utter disappointments and have soured my tastes for the genre. Even the preordained replacement of Miyazaki, Mamoru Hosoda, feels like an extremely ... watered down version of the anime master. Before the audience gets the wrong idea, Hosoda’s Wolf Children is probably the best slice-of-life I’ve seen outside of a Studio Ghibli project; that being said, the rest of his works are rather jejune and uninspired. The problem, however, does not rest at the doorstep of the genre itself, but the manner in which most directors approach the genre. And if we consider the creative process, it’s really an issue of apprehension. Directors and mangaka’s are fully aware of the infinitesimal attention span of younger audiences, hence they throw in sexualized scenes, prosaic jokes, and character quirks that do not feel natural in the least; which makes the whole notion of labeling numerous works slice-of-‘LIFE’ rather nonsensical; Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou (YKK) does little-to-nothing to change my opinion on this matter.

YKK features a disaster-stricken world where most people live in sparse towns and spend their days lazing about whilst drinking coffee. While YKK is not a tale about mental health or nihilism, I couldn’t help but wonder if the manga panel featuring a gun sitting on the table while Alpha is sipping on her coffee was a reference to an Albert Camus quote, “should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?” Philosophical pondering aside, YKK is about the life of Alpha (an A7-M2 model robot) as she lives her cheerful life in her quaint town. As the reader quickly learns, most chapters are placid affairs and many of them contain little-to-no exposition whatsoever. This minimalist approach is quite rare these days and is generally encouraged to permit the viewer to enter a meditative experience about the conundrums of life; however, the conundrums of life are nowhere to be seen in YKK, making the experience in congruent to the human experience. In other words, the characters of YKK feel like idyllic, unrealistic versions of what humans truly are, giving the reader no base in which they can identify with the characters in a meaningful fashion. Life, after all, is about struggling with one’s inner desires and instincts, but when a work of art discounts the essence of life — it is already dead!

One cannot help to draw a parallel with Alpha’s existence and the surface world of Texhnolyze. Both of which are nihilistic ‘paradises’ in which comfort and security of prioritized over the grind of creating a better version of oneself. As a point of contrast, Isao Takahata’s, Only Yesterday, takes the ‘banality’ of human existence and brings to LIFE all of its good and bad aspects. The highs and lows of numerous Studio Ghibli films give the viewer a sense of purpose and fulfillment, even when purpose itself doesn’t exactly exist; whereas YKK is a symbolic representation of heaven, in which you must be comatose to ‘enjoy.’ This is why random scenes in which Alpha takes a bath with Takahiro or the transfer of information between robots through kissing (female kissing, by the way) are used to liven things up, if you will. But all this did was remind the reader that most ‘artists’ in the manga industry are rather indolent, and prefer to give the reader superficial experiences as opposed to literary depth.

It still boggles the mind, though, that YKK, Mushishi, Haibane Renmei, and the like have fooled numerous people into believing that this typifies life — let alone art.

“To fap, or not to fap: that is (not) the question.” — Hideaki Anno

But if not, what is? Perhaps, as Camus put it, “The only serious question in life is whether to kill yourself or not.” But is this not merely an inevitably given the certainty of our own mortality; making the very question rather redundant and vain — much like the allegorical myth of Sisyphus? While most participants in the game of life do not capitulate to physical suicide, there are other, unconscious ways we are incessantly ‘killing’ ourselves. Unhealthy diets. Smoking. Texting whiling driving. Stressing out ... about the trivialities of life. And, of course, ‘escaping’ existence through psychological ploys, i.e.: believing in an afterlife (religion), drug abuse, or overindulging in sensory pleasures (games, music, social media, sex, et al.).

So if physical and/or psychological ‘death’ is assured, and we are born into despair, what is to be done? How do we penetrate the void of emptiness? Who can we look towards for guidance? And when will relief come? The fundamental human problem is that we have no problem; therefore, we have no answer! Hence, the reason we create problems from which we must oppose, and it is through this antimony where we discover ‘meaning.’ Suppose, though, one sees through the illusions of the world and sees nothing but void; would the teacher from Ecclesiastes be correct, in stating: life is no more than a ‘chasing after the wind.’ This bring us to the unfortunate case of Shinji Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion; or, given the list of presuppositions, the rather ordinary case of Shinji Ikari. Which makes Shinji’s story, ‘our’ story! But is it the whole story?…Let’s explore.

Shinji’s journey as an Eva pilot begins with insecurity, elevated anxiety and a pronounced Oedipus complex (a condition in which he wishes to be enveloped by his mother and, in turn, resents his father). The cold dialogue between Gendou and Shinji is evident from the outset, making Shinji’s indignation none so surprising; however, with the premature death of Shinji’s mother, it might seem odd for him to succumb to such a psychological state. But this is reinforced with the two primary females in his life: Rei — his reanimated, bioandroid ‘mother’ — and Misato (his ‘foster mother’). Therefore, Shinji leans on these motherly figures in extremely different ways to compensate for his negligent father. Yet, as is the case with any leaned on object, it becomes a crutch that hinders Shinji’s journey from childhood to becoming an adult. Before delving into specific details about this predicament, we need to address the crux of the entire series; as it explains all of Shinji’s psychological disturbances.

From episode one to its finale, Neon Genesis Evangelion (NGE) is laden with christian imagery, references, and symbolism. Numerous staff members, however — including Anno himself — have claimed that the integration of Christian elements is of no consequence and was used primarily to distinguish itself from other Mecha anime (an aesthetic flare, if you will). Of course, this is what is known in the government as ‘spin.’ Remember episode two, for example. After Sachiel — the third ‘angel’ — was defeated by Shinji, the UN offered an erroneous account of the prior day events to keep the public, somewhat, in check. This is crucial because upon completing the series, the viewer quickly realizes the subversive nature of Mr. Anno; hence the outrage when episodes 25 and 26 originally aired. Therefore, we can reasonably conclude that Anno’s surreptitious approach exceeds far beyond the psychoanalytical, and, in fact, is based more on mythology — and by extension, the collective unconscious — than the public initially thought. This reviewer would go so far as to claim that if the Christian mythology is not taken seriously, one has not fully grasped the themes and Shinji’s struggle in the least. To exemplify this point, refer to the name of the series: Neon means new in Greek, Genesis refers to the beginning, and Evangelion refers to the gospel — which means, good news. Therefore, we could reconfigure the meaning of the title into: Good news! [A] New Beginning — which perfectly represents the totality of the series. Before deconstructing further elements of the Christian mythos, however, we must provide a basis for how the religious elements should be interpreted. Before that, even, consider the alchemic phrase — In sterquiliniis invenitur … “Where is what you most want to be found? Where you are least likely to look.”

Firstly, Anno’s integration of Christian mythology should (Not) be interpreted as an appeal to faith or any supernatural entity therein. Imagine, if you will, that Christian mythology was akin to Greek mythology, in that it could provide practical insights on the human experience; interpret the mysticism and the divine in the proper context, and then you have a road map toward becoming the true self. But this path is no walk(man) in the park, as we can clearly see from Shinji’s tumultuous journey. It involves a recognition of the ‘devil within’ (i.e. the shadow), and integrating it into the consciousness. Shinji’s training as an Eva pilot is the symbolic representation of maturing via individuation. A process that he loathes at first, and even attempts to run away from whilst listening to his music ad nauseam to obviate reality. Individuation, of course, is a lonely process that must be traversed alone (much like piloting an eva), in an effort to discard the old self and to be born anew. This may sound reminiscent of the ‘suicide’ referenced earlier, but there is a key difference: Camus was referring to psychological suicide of the ‘spirit’ via abandoning reality (Shinji’s early mistakes); whereas Carl Jung is referring to a purposeful death of the ‘spirit’ via embracing reality and becoming who you truly are.

“No new life can arise, say the alchemists, without the death of the old. They liken the art to the work of the sower, who buries the grain in the earth: it dies only to waken to new life.” — Carl Jung

"Death of the self, that is the only absolute freedom.” — Kaworu

Shinji, obviously, is not who he should be! The early parts of the series shows a meek, unexpressive adolescent whom simply does what he’s told to make life easy and avoid challenge. Shinji’s incessant need to apologize and, by default, avoid conflict, necessitates a looming, ever-growing shadow (unconsciousness) that slowly envelopes the ego-consciousness — much like a dream — to produce a schizophrenic state where the beast within rears its ugly head via symbolic imagery that reveals all the repressed memories that are now revolting against the individual. Episode 16, ‘In Sickness Unto Death, and Then…’, presents a new Angel known as Leliel, which is a reference to Laylah of the Talmud. In this text, Laylah chooses a spirit from the Garden of Eden and presents all of the rewards/punishments available to them in life. Despite this, just before birth, Laylah erases all of the child’s memories so as to be forgotten — but not destroyed. This is what Jung refers to as the collective unconsciousness, or traits that are shared among individuals of a single species, i.e.: instincts and archetypes. For those unfamiliar, archetypes would include the following: the Wise Old Man, the trickster, the mother, the child; and, in addition, archetypal motifs: the deluge (severe flood), the apocalypse, and creation. These are memories, if you will, that reside within all of us and appear in numerous mythologies across time through various artistic works.

Leliel, the angel, much like the myth she is fashioned after, reopens the portal towards Shinji’s unconscious contents to begin the journey of individuation. In this realm of unconsciousness, Shinji encounters his shadow in the form of a child. This is because this is the moment Shinji abandoned his father and ceased his social, emotional, and psychological growth. So while he may have the appearance of a 14-year-old boy in the physical world, he is in fact still a child psychologically; a child that wishes to be released from all the burdens that have been thrust upon him by simply running away…like he always has. Before doing so, however, Shinji is subsumed by his mother’s spirit — otherwise known as the anima, or the feminine part of his psyche — and is whisked back to reality; yet, this is a terrible discovery! Because it means Shinji is anima possessed and expresses less desirable female traits, such as: passiveness, repetitive behavior, and sentimentalism. In addition, Shinji reflects on life to the point where he is paralyzed with fear and thus loses the impetus to enact positive change on his current ailments.

As a point of contrast, Asuka is the antithesis of Shinji: strong-willed, confident, laser-focused, and self-reliant. Her predicament, nevertheless, is no better than Shinji’s, in which she is possessed by the masculine part of her psyche (i.e. the animus). While a properly integrated animus is aim of any subservient-minded girl; possession of the animus, however, manifests a domineering, know-it-all who stops at nothing to create arguments out of nothing for the sake of winning. This psychological state was cultivated by Asuka’s weak relationship with her mother, in which she was not available to provide a nurturing influence. Asuka thusly establishes a weak connection with her own femininity — viewing it as a weakness — causing her to become vain and destructive (especially to herself). She is also extremely critical of others (especially Shinji), and often projects her own shortcomings onto him. Why, you may ask, does Shinji become Asuka’s veritable punching bag; and Asuka, Shinji’s choking bag?

Simple.

They are each other’s missing half. Asuka represents the masculine qualities that Shinji does not embody, and, likewise, Shinji expresses the feminine qualities that Asuka does not embrace. Asuka and Shinji’s polarities, as it were, are in direct opposition, creating a scenario in which they not only feel attracted to one another, but must also unite their opposite spirits to reconcile their own psychological deficiencies. Asuka’s is a result of an over inflated ego that has, in effect, cut itself off from all the unconscious contents — hence her dismal synchronization rate in the latter episodes; whereas Shinji’s consciousness is underdeveloped to the point that he is flooded with repressed memories, causing a disassociation with reality and the physical world (hence his inordinate synchronization rates).

Yet despite their antithetical personalities, their dilemma is equally destructive — and the same. They expect happiness to be thrust upon their laps without taking the necessary steps to understand who they truly are! But how can we understand ourselves in this tumultuous age where anxiety and depression are as ubiquitous as the air we breathe…

“We must read the Bible or we shall not understand psychology. Our psychology, whole lives, our language and imagery are built upon the Bible.”

Now, the task at hand is to demonstrate the validity of Jung’s words via showing the link between psychological phenomena and Christian mythology to encounter the truths we so sorely seek. One such religion that has been at the forefront of interpreting Christian mythology is that of the Gnostics, whom use the teachings of the scripture as a stepping stone toward self-knowledge. This is why some have dubbed them early depth psychologists, due to their relentless pursuit of looking inward (rather than outward) to uncover the ‘meanings’ behind human life. But they, much like their Christian predecessors, are products of their time, using mythology and allegory to elucidate truths that nowadays would be written in technical, prosaic language. Therefore, it is our task to link the Gnostic mythological elements to Evangelion to build the psychological argument necessary to understanding Shinji, Asuka, and Gendou.

To begin, Gnosticism is predicated on the idea of the Pleroma, which means ‘fullness,’ the totality of Divine powers and manifestation. It is inconceivable and ineffable, however, there is a clear line of demarcation between the spiritual universe of the ‘Gods’ and ‘Angels,’ and that of the material universe in which reality manifests through matter. This demarcation, in the psychological view, represents the ‘barrier’ between the conscious and the unconscious. In Evangelion this is portrayed via the nearly impenetrable A.T. Fields that the ‘Angels’ create to protect themselves. Therefore, if the ‘Angels’ are the propagators of the A.T. Fields (i.e. the barrier between the conscious, material realm and the unconscious, spiritual realm) it stands to reason that the ‘Angels’ — Aeons, as noted by the Gnostics — are emanations from ‘God.’ But if these immaterial beings lie beyond our realm of perception, why is it that we exist at all?

According to the Gnostics, Sophia, the lowest emanation of ‘God,’ out of ignorance, birthed a being known as the Demiurge who in turn begat the physical universe (i.e. the conscious realm). Therefore, the outgrowth of the material universe from the spiritual universe symbolizes the burgeoning human consciousness out of the unconsciousness. Sophia, the proxy creator of the material universe via begetting the Demiurge, is represented in Evangelion as Lilith (as she created humanity, byproducts of the material universe).

So if Lilith is Sophia, who, then, is representative of the Demiurge?

As a brief reminder, the Demiurge created the material consciousness, which contains such components as the ego and the persona; the ego being who we think we are, and the persona being the man we ‘allow’ others to see. Suffice it to say that if we were to label one person as the embodiment of the consciousness in its totality, it would be none other than Gendou Ikari — the ego-maniac par excellence; this, invariably, would make him the Demiurge. Upon first glance, this may sound a tad nonsensical. The Demiurge, in the Gnostic tradition, was the creator of the known universe; while Gendou is just a mere man, born of flesh and blood. But let us remember that the Gnostic Demiurge is opposed to the superior, ‘true’ God and thus crease the material universe out of ignorance; much in the way Gendou is opposed to the ‘Angels’ — i.e., the emanations of God — and creates the Evangelions out of ignorance to supersede their power. And let us not forget, the Evangelions, themselves, are created from Adam's remains, meaning they are pseudo representations of the ‘Angels’ (i.e. the unconsciousness); and let us not forget further that the unconsciousness is, as Nietzsche stated, “the Beast within.” It contains all of our primal emotions — anger, lust, fear — and has a guiding influence over our rationality (or lack thereof) if we do not seek to understand it, and, far more importantly, seek to integrate it into our being (i.e. Jung’s Shadow integration). This is the very reason unit 01 went berserk in episode 19, because Shinji — the operator of unit 01 — was negligent in confronting his own psychological shadow via repressing his hatred for his father and ignoring his proliferating anxiety/depression. In effect, Shinji’s weak ego-consciousness was subsumed by the unconsciousness, casting off the husk of ‘Man’ and revealing the wild animal that lie underneath.

The following episode, Shinji achieves a 400% synchronization rate with his Evangelion (i.e. unconsciousness), reverting his body to LCL. But what exactly is this strange, mysterious fluid that seems to pervade all of humanity? It is, simply, the essence of life; the blood of God that “perfects every nature in its individuality and thus makes man whole too.” The unconscious God must utilize this liquid — the aqua doctrinae, as labeled by the alchemists — to draw in humanity to its unoriginal source to merge the unconscious contents of the God with that of the ego-conscious to create the Self. The Self being none other than the son of God himself, Jesus Christ; which makes perfect sense when you consider John 6:56, “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood remains in Me, and I in him.” Therefore, through the autonomous water doctrinae (i.e. LCL) we are drawn to the ‘God’ to unify a pair of opposites — i.e., the consciousness with the unconsciousness. But is such a task possible through the passivity of the aqua doctrinae alone? Or do we require the ‘Word’ of God — otherwise known as Logos — to bring us closer to where we ought to be?

Indubitably, we do.

And this ‘Word’ comes from the ‘Angel’ that has taken human form — much like Christ — to guide Shinji on his path of completing individuation; the God made of flesh and blood, Kaworu. To further belabor the connection between Kaworu and Christ, we must remember that Kaworu was first recognized by Shinji when he was sitting on a structure that was surrounded by water with no bridge in sight; yet, Kaworu was not wet — meaning, he either walked on water of floated above it. Additionally, Kaworu teaches Shinji the Word of God via elucidating the A.T. Field as a “sacred realm that is impervious to others, the light of the heart!;” clearly referring to the barrier between the conscious realm from the unconscious one. Jesus did much of the same in teaching his various disciples about becoming closer to God, “Woe unto you, lawyers! for ye have taken away the key of knowledge: ye entered not in yourselves…” Also, Kaworu and Jesus both sacrificed themselves for the sake of humanity. When Jesus did so, he was pierced by the Lance of Longinus in his side, which immediately ejected blood and water (signifying the aqua doctrinae). When Kaworu got crushed by Shinji’s Evangelion, numerous scenes of water were shown — including the area where Shinji first met Kaworu; Nagisa, Kaworu’s surname, also means “waterside” — to exemplify its importance in finding the Self, and Kaworu’s personification as Christ.

“All people become brothers…” — Beethoven, ‘Ode to Joy.’

With the death of the last ‘Angel,’ Kaworu, SEELE’s plan of commencing Instrumentality was complete. But what exactly is Instrumentality and why does SEELE want to ‘see’ it come to pass? To answer both of these questions, we must first recognize that SEELE is a Gnostic cult whom have taken their allegorical myth about the creation of the material universe too literally. As a point of contrast, Gnosticism was originally based on personal spiritual knowledge (gnosis), enlightenment, and reflection; the problem, however, is that some sects assert that the material universe is more than just a mistake by the false God (i.e. Demiurge) and believe it represents evil; meaning, true happiness can only be achieved via returning to the Pleroma from whence we all came — becoming One with the unconscious.

And why is it that we All become One? Because God represents the collective unconscious; the archetypes of the ‘Hero’s Journey,’ the ‘Deluge,’ the ‘Savior,’ the ‘Trickster,’ et al., are found across religions spanning the globe, precisely because they are innate psychological mechanisms that have been preserved by evolution to aid humanity in some fashion. For Carl Jung, the archetypes serve to balance out and harmonize the inner workings of the mind via integrating one’s Shadow (unconsciousness) into the ego-consciousness to produce the Self (i.e. a Christ-like figure). Gendou’s failure, in this regard, stems from the combative approach he takes toward the unconscious in attempting to usurp its control over the ego-consciousness; whereas SEELE mistake lies in embracing the unconsciousness wholeheartedly, by allowing its own conscious contents to be dissolved into nothingness. In these two antithetical, unbalanced states, we must find a character (or characters) who can reunite the opposites and shows us the path toward individuation.

In the case of Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley…

Shinji and Asuka undergo a reevaluation of their internal psyche’s by entering the unconscious regions of their brain (i.e. Instrumentality), and attempting to come to terms with their imbalances and reconcile their psychological instabilities. And because Shinji and Asuka are psychological opposites — as well as gender opposites — they are, invariably, each other’s missing half. This is why they ‘exist’ in each other’s ‘hearts;’ and must, logically, integrate each other into their consciousness to forge the true Self.

“Once again, you’re casting aside your [S]elf-worth.” Misato…as a cross lies on the ground.

…….

“‘The Beast that shouted “I” at the heart of the [Inner]-world.”’

To conclude this psychological journey, we return to the beginning…Genesis; melding opposites: the End of Evangelion, the confrontation of the conscious with the unconscious, with the origination of consciousness itself (i.e. the ‘Fall of Man’). Adam came into being via the creation of Yahweh; the false God according to the Gnostics, as he was adamant that the first two humans not consume the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge — much in the way Gendou is intentionally vague about why they are fighting the ‘Angels.’ Yahweh, also, according to the Gnostics, is one in the same with Saturn, who is likened to the tyrannical father; whereas Rei, who is Shinji’s reanimated mother, is equated to the moon — as noted by by the ending song, ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ — which is synonymous with the caring mother.

“In the Iranian view Jupiter signifies life, Saturn death.”

“Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On a, Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me…” — Bart Howard

The conjunction of planetary bodies is of great importance, particularly because Jesus’ birth happened during a triple conjunction of Saturn, Mars, and Jupiter; Shinji’s birth, likewise, is characterized by the union of Saturn (Gendou) and Jupiter (Yui); Jupiter, according to Roman mythology, gives birth to Mars (Shinji) — thus completing the same conjunction as Christ. But Shinji is not Christ…not yet, at least. He must learn to become the inner Christ — Kaworu, as noted by Shinji’s vision of himself being crushed by the Evangelion — via leaving the unconscious Garden of Eden with Asuka to initiate the process of individuation. Hence, The End of Evangelion’s final scene represents the aftermath of the ‘Fall of Man’ and thus the beginning of a new Gospel. A new knowledge about the Self. A revitalized rebirth via shadow integration — which is excruciatingly painful. Which is why you may feel sick, or absolutely disgusted by the process.

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” — Carl Jung

“Never knowing when to stop — thy name is human.” — Krunchyman

Each time a slice-of-life drama comes to the fore, we, the viewing public, need to ask a pertinent question: ‘will they half-ass it, of full ass it?’ For example, invoking themes of unrequited love, interminable ‘friend-zones,’ and romantic ignorance is a precarious undertaking that walks a thin tight-rope of becoming too clichéd or too dull. The former is pervasive to the point that we might as well classify it as an invasive genre in the anime medium; on the other hand, the latter is equally undesirable, as it fails to engage the ... audience in any meaningful fashion (a critical element in these types of anime). So perhaps the question then becomes: will a healthy balance be struck?—And if so, will it done with grace and ingenuity?

Sing “Yesterday” for Me, in my estimation, establishes the balance with an anachronistic cast of characters…in fact, the juxtaposition of differing ‘philosophies’ is the engine that drives the show. Rikuo, the indecisive male lead, is primarily focused on what he could be and who we wishes to be with. But this prospect driven mindset thwarts him from living in the here and now; thus, ‘closing doors’ (i.e. Haru’s kindness) and limiting his overall happiness. This indirect ‘self-sabotage’ is the impetus behind Rikuo’s capitulating personality, allowing him to be manipulated by the unwitting Shinako. Hence, Rikuo would do well to adopt Haru’s ‘presence’ and begin exploring all the possibilities presented to him, rather than holding out for one long-shot.

Shinako — Rikuo’s ‘one-and-only’ — has the antithetical problem, she cannot dislodge her mind from the past. Having the displeasure of watching her lover’s health slowly deteriorate, Shinako resigned herself to a life of solitude and emptiness. Numerous scenes show Shinkao reminiscing about her past lover in a way that demonstrates her unwillingness to believe in herself via moving on from the traumatic event. She, therefore, is apathetic toward her own future — precipitating an inner tumult that leads to emotional stagnation. Even when she initiates a relationship with Rikuio, it seems as though she’s sabotaging it via making fun of his limited vocabulary or blowing him off (as nicely as possible) on more than one occasion. But she hangs onto to him, nonetheless, as support for her own shortcomings and her inability to terminate what she knows is a fruitless endeavor (as noted by Shinako’s reluctance to kiss Rikuo).

Rikuo and Shinako are both fleshed out characters that give the viewer much to ponder in terms of being too ‘nice’ and not knowing when to close a particular chapter in one’s life. Furthermore, none of the their actions or spoken sentences felt out of place, nor did they come off as tired character tropes. The subtle nuances in each character provided a slow-burning level of intrigue that was hard to turn away from. Haru, on the flip side, is more forward with her actions. Not all surprising from someone who embraces the chaotic beauty of living in the here and now. While some viewers may interpret her character as ‘obnoxious’ or ‘creepy,’ I much prefer to classify her as passionate, resolute, and, yes, a bit foolhardy (this is a compliment!).

While her proposed competition with Shinako seemed a bit outlandish and rude, it is precisely what we all do in pursuit of the ideal partner. If one questions the rationality of this statement, then I suggest they neglect taking showers, become homeless, uneducated, and attempt to woo the girl/boy of their dreams. Whether the other ‘competitors’ is known is of no consequence, as we are all ‘competing’ for the right to date/marry a worthwhile, loving partner. Haru acknowledges this hidden reality and makes no bones about her wanting to make Rikuo hers. Sure. Some men see this persistent as annoying, but this commitment to achieving her goal is admirable and praiseworthy. To make the topic crystal, I’d choose an ‘annoying’ girl with self-awareness and the courage of her convictions, over an equivocating, over thinker any day of the week. Of course, that is not to say that Haru doesn’t have doubts or regrets about her decisions, but she knows the path she is on and does not allow mishaps to deter her future ambitions. Plus, the fact that she constantly goes out of her way to see Rikuo and show her admiration for him with gifts and warm smiles is proof that she cares about his well-being; whereas Shinako is, inadvertently, neglectful about Rikuo’s happiness.

The characters, without a doubt, were the strong point of the anime. The plot, also, was exceptionally consistent, save for an episode where Chika stumbled into Rikuo in the convenience store back alley and pleaded to stay with him until she got back on her feet; causing Shinako and Haru to become distraught about Rikuo’s ‘playboy’ lifestyle. I would have preferred if this episode didn’t exist, as it felt like the plot was being accelerated to inject a certain level of ‘excitement.’ But it felt superfluous because the methodical, emotional build up was entertaining enough in its own right, and needed no additional ‘spice’ to liven it up. Although some may argue the plot was a bit leisurely, I would contend it never laggard, as most of the events felt organic. And this authentic approach not only kept events grounded, it also made even mundane experiences feel important; like when Rikuo was having a difficult time giving Shinako the necklace for Christmas or when Shinako’s lip was quivering when Rikuo gently stroked her hair. So while there were no overt plot devices that would give the viewer metaphorical whiplash, there were enough small events that added nervous anticipation about possible events to come. Mix this with the pleasant backgrounds and placid OST, and Sing “Yesterday” For Me was just an overall satisfying experience.

“It burnt slowly, but it never lost its heat.” — Krunchyman

Gurren Lagann is insanity par excellence.

But we mustn’t dismiss this farcicality on the grounds of superficial experiences. If life teaches us anything, it is that our sensory organs are proficient at gathering information, but require a filtering cognition to unearth the mysteries that lie underneath. We must therefore peel back the veneer of explosive colors, outlandish personalities, and extravagant Mecha transformations to grasp onto the underlying message that is so stark, that it might as well be Yoko Littner standing completely naked in your bedroom.

“But Gurren Lagann is a nonsensical, meta anime that is a parody of the Mecha genre.” — You might ... say.

Perhaps! But suppose we take the goal of ‘breaking through the heavens’ as a serious proposition. Could we thusly claim that Kamina’s rhetoric is meta in and of itself?—Speaking to a generation of apathetic youth whom lost their purpose and gravitated towards nihilism and all of its repugnance therein. The humans whom dwell in the caverns below the earth represent this nihilism, as they have eliminated ‘all the sharp edges of life’ by accepting a timid disposition that yields a society of unending dullness — not unlike sand. Sand! What could be worse than living in your own metaphorical grave?—A grave where ‘everybody wants the same, [and] everybody is the same.’ Fear and passiveness are the rule. Any indication of assertiveness is treated as if it were a disease — a certain type of madness, if you will; but who is really mad when the norm dictates that one must keep their head down, live beneath the ground, and work ceaselessly until their heart stops beating? (if it is even beating at all!)

Sounds like an illness!

Kamina is the antithesis of the modern subterranean human who has rejected himself in the face of authority. Kamina thusly seeks to emancipate himself from the sickness that is slave morality, via asserting his courage upon the world through the ‘will to power.’ This comes about, firstly, because he attributes worth to his life that others have long since discarded in themselves; and as such, he promotes his own values that stem from his longing to attain the status of ‘hero’ among men. The road toward the aforementioned goal, obviously, is not an easy one; however, it is preferable to the duplicitous nature of the oppressed — i.e. promoting an egalitarian life, but secretly condemning those in charge. Yet the subversive tactics of the disenfranchised pales in comparison the the strong willed individual who seeks a new value system that he writes with his own hands; history, after all, is penned by the winner(s)!

Kamina’s indomitable spirit burst through ‘impenetrable’ barriers allowing others to see a world of possibilities, previously unknown to them. Like the possibility of self-believe and affirming one’s own life as valuable. Morality — a rib-tickling trifling — is thoroughly disregarded as the fear-inducing sham that it is! Of course, this may sound absurd upon first glance, considering that society is built upon moral systems; however, when the moral system suppresses human creativity through systems of guilt and terror — then people are not truly free! This is the message imparted to Simon incessantly by his ‘big bro’ Kamina, to eventually blossom into a strong individual that lays the seed for his own future, that our incorruptible by external forces. And as Simon begins to trust his ‘big bro’ and their success as a tandem proliferates, the young apprentice begins to self-actualize, and, thusly, rejoice in his growing power; one could even liken Simon’s burgeoning drill — i.e. spiral power — to the ‘will to power,’ itself. As he believes more in himself, his abilities expand in new and creative ways.

Until!

Kamina is expelled from the world, depriving Simon of his purpose and his will to affirm life; nihilism and depression ensue. Simon from this moment forward must stand on his own two feet. A process that derails Dai-Gurren’s mission of defeating Lordgenome and the Beastmen; but, far more importantly, immobilizes Simon’s internal growth of becoming self-actualized. Of course! His team members attempt to revive the ‘old’ Simon through their collective efforts, but the ‘will to power’ — spiral power — can only come within; something Nia intrinsically understands as she asks Dai-Gurren to find his power in his own time…

“[My bro] lives on as a part of me!” — Simon

Simon the Digger rises from the ashes, from the flame that he used to incinerate his old self to be born anew — confidence restored! With his new found strength, Simon and Dai-Gurren successfully defeat the beastmen, and subsequently Lordgenome to capture the world for themselves and install a new society. But this becomes a problem in and of itself. Chiefly due to the exchange of one moral system — Lordgenome’s autocracy — for Rossiu’s statism (i.e. a system of government where the State has unfettered rule, despite the external appearance). Rossiu’s political paradigm should come as no surprise; as a matter of fact, as it was expected via his abandonment of religion and the ‘death of God.’ Remember. Rossiu’s previous village was inundated with dogmatism and a belief in a higher purpose. Due to this belief crumbling under his feet, Rossiu, under the Nietzschean supposition, was thusly left with three choices: 1) the acceptance of futility via nihilism (Simon’s choice in the wake of Kamina’s death); 2) the replacement of ‘God’ with the ‘State’ (Rossiu’s choice); or, 3) the believe in one’s self via the building of new bridges toward new possibilities (i.e. Kamina, and eventually Simon’s raison d’être).

Since belief in the State requires a certain level of moral acceptance, it is incumbent that any and all dissidents are ignored, or forcibly removed to assure that mass proselytization of the ‘virtuousness’ of the State is not infringed upon; therefore, Simon’s individual, heroic mindset — an affront to the common ‘good’ the State advocates for — lands him in jail. Furthermore, this reinforces the all too pervasive dynamic of slave versus master morality. A system in which the ‘masters’ cultivate their strengths and excellence; while the ‘slaves’ adopt a herd mentality and cast aspersions on those whom dare to dream for the stars. Or, in other words: a countermeasures of the ‘weak and mediocre…[to] weaken and pull down the stronger’ via ‘moral judgement.’ However, the impending doom conferred upon the people of the earth cannot be remedied through ‘ethics,’ ‘rationality,’ or the ‘common good.’ Nay. In matters as large as the universe, we must trust out hearts — and our ability to dare the impossible! All the world is theory, until someone crazy enough is willing to test it. Simon carries the spirit of his ‘big bro’ within him. But it is not some transcendental entity or magic power — it is, in fact, courage! A certain type of madness, if you will, to conqueror all the doubters who are not BOLD enough to forge their own roads with their own hands.

“Kick logic to curb and do the impossible.”

After circumventing the State (i.e. Rossiu), Simon encounters an enemy that may be the most despicable of all; the Anti-Spirals, otherwise known as Nietzsche’s ‘last man.’ A being whom not only embraces nihilism — but asserts it is the only answer and it imposes it upon others. The character and the appearance of the ‘last man’ — the Anti-Spirals — is the antithesis of creativity, power, and madness! Comfort, security, and mediocrity are the only aims of these purely ‘objective’ entities whom claim the Archimedean point provides justification for their self-imposed restrictions. Goals? Aspirations? Dreams? Power?

“We say, NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! Not! At! All!!!” — Anti-Spiral

“[We] prefer to put [our] last trust in a sure nothing, rather than in an uncertain something.”



………………………..



“WhO the Hell do YOU think I AM!!!”

Pure rationality inoculates the spirit from chaos, thereby assassinating the individual; The Anti-Spirals are everyone — but no one! Fuck depression — build a bridge; drill a hole in the universe with your ‘will to power!’ Get in the fuckn’ robot Shinji!!! Life is hard — so get harder! Limitations are illusions rooted in fear, and fear is yourself; overcome your greatest enemy via ‘indulging in wickedness’ and growing the tree that reaches heaven, with roots in hell. Affirm all the aspects of life and attain glory, my friends; lest we all become barren in dynamism. And embrace pain. YES, revel in its potential. One must bath themselves in sharp experiences if one wishes to attain the razor’s edge needed to pierce through the heavens! Gaze forward with the eye of a hawk. Attack with the cunningness of a lion. And reach the stars with the irrationality of a human.


“Row, row, fight [with] Power!”

“The law of diminishing returns does not apply to boob size…” — nefarious chiropractors everywhere

How do we appraise a show that emulates the MAL review process to a T?—Easily, with our D’s. But this D doesn’t succumb to the lowest common denominator. Standards must be maintained, after all. Granted. Those standards would be equivalent to a world class hurdler jumping over a toothpick — but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fall in line like the rest of you horndogs.

Sexual desires permeate to every facet of our culture, as proven by the famous ad slogan: “sex sells.” ... But despite the ubiquity of sexual elements in our society, it is considered taboo in normal discourse. Of course, ‘locker-room talk’ exists, but that’s reserved for your closest friends or Billy Bush inside of an Access Hollywood tour bus; otherwise, society dictates to keep those lascivious thoughts to yourself. ‘Ishuzoku Reviewers,’ however, attempts to dismantle this traditional paradigm by not only showing a myriad of uncensored sexual practices, but rating those practices based on the pleasure it brings to one’s ‘Johnson.’ People claiming this type of media objectifies women are mostly correct in their assertion, but are silly for doing so. If we can rate people’s customer service skills via filling out a survey, how is this any different?—It’s not, so shut up.

The main criteria for any anime of this type is to erect ‘tents’ while making the viewer giggle like a temporarily sex changed man. But more often than not, I found myself in a flaccid state — and that’s no laughing matter. Four boners, people!—That’s all I got. For math-literate folk, that’s one boner per 3 episodes. Odds that me (and my non-erect boner) were not pleased with. Which could have been rectified if at least one animator brought up concerns about proportionality, or lack thereof. And this is no iconoclast talk. According to some shit I googled, most men prefer women with a C-cup (D-cup coming in second). Frankly speaking, anything bigger than an E-cup is just absurd, and becomes more of a hindrance than anything else. Primarily because dem tig ol’bitties tend to migrate south which makes them look less ‘full’ and have a distinct sag.

Animation can nullify this unsightly consequence via ignoring gravity and the tensile strength of an average women’s back. Despite this, Ishuzoku not only embraces the ‘drooby’ aesthetic, it endorses it wholeheartedly. Taking every opportunity to push the envelope to the point where one is wondering if the breasteses are heavier than the girl, herself. Furthermore, nipples were often drawn in a distasteful manner and many of the girls had peculiar (sometimes ugly) body aesthetics. Meidri, undoubtedly, was a bang(h)er, but most of the other girls were reprehensible. Mostly because of the manner in which their bodies were drawn, but sometimes their faces were none so better.—But then, it happened! The incubus from episode 11 changed my perspective on the female form and my own prejudices. It was, however, all for naught…as when I sobered up, I swiftly realized my flaccidness.

Foolishly, I came into Ishuzoku thinking with a concept this, how could one go wrong with the comedy. Even if the jokes themselves were mediocre, I figured the (un)intentional irony would be sufficient to bust a gut. I’m here to tell you: my gut remains intact. It was clear the staff was using a mixture of shock comedy (via having the Guys screw anything and everything) and satire to display how depraved anime characters, and fans —by virtue of watching the show — are in regards to their proclivities. But if anyone has spent more than 4 minutes on MAL, they’ll know how libidinous the average anime fan is. Plus, the shock comedy was not so much shocking, as it was mundane and derivative. One shocking anime, by comparison, pushed the boundaries to the periphery of human tolerance until I wanted to vomit…then, they did it again with ‘Pico to Chico,’ and one more time with ‘Pico x CoCo x Chico.’ Ah, childhood innocence, how I miss you.

But I suppose anything more audacious would have crossed the barley visible line between Ecchi and Hentai. So, I applaud the effort; however, with a 1/3 boner-to-non-boner conversion rate, I cannot hyperbolize how flaccid me and my dick were. Furthermore, the narrative style of having the main characters chronicle their experiences while in the midst of sex was problematic. It’d be like James Earl Jones narrating a scene in which Han Force(D) his ‘Solo’ into Leia’s Hutt with Boba Fett in the background taking selfies for his Instagram page. Actually, that sounds pretty awesome, any Porn producers in the audience make this happen!

Anyhow, the OP was pretty cool. I liked it! Bumps it up to a three for me, but it did nothing for my ‘D’ — I guaranTEE, just stay away from the hep B.