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I’m sure everyone who has had to endure mandatory secondary education has, at one point, been so bored that they entertained the idea of jumping out of the classroom window and to their death to escape their current obligations. For me, that intense level of boredom manifested itself every Thursday afternoon in my religious education class. Three hours of back-to-back religious study with a teacher who would frequently go on unprovoked tangents about her divorced husband and distancing relationship with her children. And the people who I was forced to sit with weren’t much better either. To my left was a girl who had hair ... so greasy that you could have fried eggs off of it for an entire city and to my right was a boy with such pungent body odor that during Winter I purposely tried to get a cold just to save my nose from drying up from the stank. To be fair, I wasn’t much better. During the time my acne was so bad that my face was essentially one large red crater which earned me the elegant nickname of, “period face”. The teenage years are the worst. However, I thankfully evolved from an unfortunate looking teenager to an unfortunate looking adult. But I’m getting off track now.

Nearing the end of one particularly slow and painful Thursday, the teacher opened up the class to a debate on the concept of a “just war”, asking that we assume the beliefs of various religious groups and their thoughts towards the concept. We used the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings of the Second World War as our case study. Regardless of your stance on this topic and whether you believe America was justified in carrying out the bombings, the significant thing is what happened next. We finished early, and, seemingly happy with our level of discussion, our teacher decided to end class with a small video from YouTube as a treat. We all relaxed and put away our things, content that the day was nearly finished and we didn’t have to do any more school work. The teacher dragged her big, meaty fingers over the keyboard and begun to click away. She turned to face the class. “This is a little animation I found on the Hiroshima bombings a while ago. It’s Japanese, I think”. I perked up. At the time I was beginning my never-ending downward spiral into the world of weebdom and, if memory serves correctly, I was in my early shounen phase. While I had seen my share of horror-themed titles, such as Another or Higurashi, both were admittedly grounded in a sense of unintentional hilarity. After all, the most memorable death of the former show involved a girl being killed by an umbrella. But we were all about to learn a lesson in just how well animation could convey death and suffering.

The teacher clicked play and, with the intensity of an elderly woman falling down the stairs laced with barbed wire, the entire class of young teenagers witnessed the Barefoot Gen Hiroshima sequence. First, a young girl holding a red balloon burned to death, her eyes melting out their sockets and slowly falling to the floor. Suffice to say her balloon did not survive. Next, an elderly man who burned so quickly his head was ripped from his body. And finally, a young mother, with her baby wrapped around her back, cradled the child as it fell to the ground, both frying as quickly as Harvey Weinstein’s career. Next came a dog, whose whimpers made some of the girls in the classroom squeal. After some shots of destruction and death, the bell sounded, the teacher closed the window, smiled and gestured that she hoped we had enjoyed what we saw. We got up, silent, and left.

Six years of therapy, twenty-four PTSD flashbacks, and eighty-nine sleepless nights later and I have finally sat down to watch this film in its entirety. Barefoot Gen is a 1983 Madhouse production based on the manga by the same name, penned by Keiji Nakazawa in the early 1970s. Based on the author’s own experience of having survived the Hiroshima atomic bomb, Barefoot Gen tells the story of a young boy called Gen and the fate of his family following said event and the subsequent defeat of the Japanese army. Barefoot Gen’s narrative is not complicated at all but it doesn’t need to be nor is this a point of criticism against the film. Undoubtedly the historical significance of the event is indeed a powerful one. Much like the Titanic, stories recounting events from the Second World War practically write themselves but to say that is to not imply that Barefoot Gen is hollow nor lazy. It doesn’t take much for someone to understand the emotional capacity and environment those must have endured during such a horrible time. Narratives such as Gen allow the viewer to be reminded of such horrible events and Gen is a film that certainly does not pull any punches in this regard.

The film’s main framing device, that of a narrator who occasionally returns at important interludes in the timeline of this piece of history, gives the film a documentary feel. By doing so it can be argued that the film’s main goal is that of education. But the narrator also serves another purpose, at least thematically. Much of Gen’s narrative is told from the perspective of Gen himself. Children are developing constantly and find it far more difficult than adults to understand complex situations or even really the world around them. Gen has a surface level understanding of the war. He can identify the types of planes he sees in the sky as well as the fact that he and his family have a lack of food because of the war. But to Gen, the war is nothing but a general concept; he doesn’t understand much else. When walking past people waiting for food, Gen observes two men who begin to bicker and fight about their placement within the line. Gen laughs and comments that it is silly that grown men will fight over food as children do, misunderstanding the extent to which people have been starving to even get into that kind of situation in the first place.

When faced with the harshness of reality, Gen and his little brother, Shinji, have very childlike and innocent responses to it. For example, their heavily pregnant mother becomes malnourished so the two children ponder how they can help. They first think about feeding their mother caterpillars but quickly give up on the idea when they imagine that if she ate them, she too would turn green and hairy. They then decide to steal a Karp since their neighbor told them that eating one would replenish her health. After being caught by a man who presumably owns the pond in which they stole the fish from, they plead and cry for ownership of one. The man agrees and their mother recovers some of her vigor but later the same man visits their house to speak to their father. Thinking they have been caught the children run away, only to reluctantly come home again, waiting to be punished by their parents. Instead what awaits them is a loving embrace and they are given a small present in the form of candy for their efforts. Gen’s childlike response and naivety to such a predicament wins out. But not for long for the harshness of reality reminds him that the world is a cruel and unforgiving place. Every moment of happiness Gen experiences or every moment in which he believes his predicament to be improving are immediately undercut by the evil of the world. Gen’s innocence is tainted by the war and no matter how hard he tries he cannot escape the fact that he is but a child living in war-time Japan.

The narrator only serves to emphasize this. By informing the viewer of the number of deaths the bomb succeeded in taking or any other information just as morbid, it drives to undermine Gen’s childlike naivety to complex situations. With each passing moment, Gen’s innocence is being lost. Even the end of the film leaves a bittersweet feeling. While Gen flourishes in the fact that his hair is growing back and life is returning to the soil, the viewer is still left with the uncomfortable death of an infant just minutes prior. On one hand, it serves to remind the audience that indeed hope is certainly alive but it is one founded on an uneasy ambiguity for the future.

Gen’s narrative is deeply rooted in historical events that the film plays to its advantage. Everyone knows that the day the atomic bomb will fall is slowly coming. As a time, ticking bomb, each day only serves as a reminder that it is inevitable. Even viewers unfamiliar with the historical context of this film will certainly realize that something is coming. That something is indeed wrong. While in a bunker during an air raid, Gen’s father remarks that it is strange that Hiroshima has not been as thoroughly attacked as neighboring cities have and Gen observes that the American planes flying ahead are scouting planes and not attacking ones. This is what makes the scenes leading up the bomb drop all the more powerful. The family, despite being in such harsh conditions on the edge of starvation, all retain a sense of drive and motivation to continue and live on which is certainly admirable. Many small moments give the characters a wonderful sense of depth and humanity. This is most felt between Gen and his brother, Shinji. As young boys in close age, they are very close and spend much of the earlier parts of the film fighting as brothers would normally do, both sharing their childlike naivety to help their family.

Another interesting plot element arises from Gen’s father who is reluctant to sing the praises of the Japanese army and thus is treated as an unpatriotic outsider. Barefoot Gen is critical of the nationalistic ideology that was rampant in Japan at the time which called for soldiers to sacrifice their bodies in war, and for women to give birth and multiply for the preservation of the Emperor and the Yamato race. While this is done narratively, there are other moments that point towards a critique of Japanese nationalism. Such an example is when the audience is introduced to Gen for the very first time. Walking out of a bunker, Gen stands triumphally at having survived another day, with his family standing close behind him. The “camera” is placed at a low angle to emphasize their stature. They all stare off up into the sky above, at their enemy, strong, brave, and confident. This type of framing feels like it would fit right at home on any number of Japanese wartime propaganda posters that would call for the family unit to play their part and be strong. But this moment is undercut when Gen’s stomach rumbles. Despite being brave and confident, what the Japanese people desire most of all is not victory but indeed just something to eat, undermining the concurrent Japanese government. But then the day finally comes. I was somewhat taken aback by how anxious I felt when I knew these characters would soon be meeting their demise. In only thirty minutes the film does a great job of acclimating the viewer into the world of this small family.

The bombing sequence is certainly the centerpiece of the entire film and while I did touch upon it earlier there are several other things about this sequence, I would like to draw attention to. The first thing is how the sequence does such a great job of creating tension. There are small things that seem off. A plane is spotted in the sky, the Enola Gay, which Gen’s father cites is here remarkably early. Gen’s family notices that hundreds of ants are crawling inside their home through the front door. Even the way the shots are ensembled and paced gives off a sense of danger and uneasiness. After an ensemble of wide-shots depicting Hiroshima and its citizens' daily life, ambivalent towards the danger that is about to befall them, the audience is given the time. It’s ten minutes past eight in the morning. Time is slowly running out. The film cuts to the American’s point of view; their faces are different than how the rest of the characters in the film are presented. By doing so it emphasizes that the Americans are a significant “Other” than that of the Japanese. Their impartiality and passiveness about what they’re about to unleash are evident. The bomb is dropped. A final look at the clock: it’s now a quarter past eight. It’s over. The music cuts out and all that remains is silence as a bright white illuminates the citizens. The only thing left is to watch in horror.

While it has been over six years since I had originally watched this sequence and what I say is mostly in jest, it is undeniable just how cold this sequence is and just how well it is all made. The pacing, the editing, it’s all done to fantastic effect. But despite how horrific this initial melting sequence is, the moment that I feel is more powerful comes after. Having survived the blast, Gen is left to frantically wander the destruction before eventually coming face-to-face with the remains of the Japanese people. Men and women; their skin melted and hanging off their body; their eyes hanging from their sockets; their bodies impaled with pieces of broken glass. The most haunting thing about this sequence is how these people walk in which they still retain an element of humanity under their melted and torn bodies. A young child grips onto his mother’s dress. Another mother holds what remains of her melted child within her arms. A sister and brother walk hand-in-hand as the latter cries into his arm. It’s genuinely unnerving and one of the most powerful scenes in anime. And from this point forward the film is relentless in terms of its imagery, even going as far as to depict babies lying dead and charred on the ground. Even the way the sounds of the survivors, and how they all group together, sitting, staring into nothingness as they fill the air of with the sound of their pain, always left such an impression on me. It’s something straight out of a horror film. The shading, the lighting, everything about this scene is both poignant and mesmerizing.

Barefoot Gen is a gorgeous looking film and the choice of colors for many of the backgrounds are bold and distinctive with its use of red, purple, and orange. When the bomb goes off the characters are trapped within a bright inferno. Streaks of red, orange, and blue rain down in the background, demonstrating the transformative power of nuclear energy. In depicting the immediate aftermath, the sharp contrast between the raging fires and dark mushroom clouds is also a visual highlight, dividing the frame, creating an all-encompassing hell. The subsequent radioactive rainfall, while being important to the narrative, is also highly cinematic and only enhances the horror that has befallen this city. Likewise, the animation retains both a lot of horror and charm. Many of the early sequences in the film before the attack are incredibly well animated. Gen and his brother move around with grace and the animation is bouncy to complement it. Every frame in which they play together has some level of interesting or dynamic movement to it and there are many impressive sequences throughout. The character designs feel distinctly “Tezuka”. Characters, especially children, feel more “western” cartoon than distinctly “anime” with their round, squishy faces. The design of the characters feels largely influenced by the general aesthetic style of the 1960s, and, you’ll have to excuse me if this sounds misguided for this decade is one I am not too versed in. Perhaps this is because the manga began publishing in the early 1970s, but either way, what I wish to communicate (and which I am doing a poor job of) is that the style of this film feels distinct and memorable from someone more accustomed to a more modern style of Japanese animation.

Barefoot Gen is an incredibly beautiful – yet devastating – account of the atomic bomb drop on Hiroshima. It pulls absolutely no punches, serving as both a visual and educational reminder of the horrors of war. Gen, as well as the rest of the cast, are not exactly the most developed, or fleshed out or deep or anything else like that, which many people are looking for in terms of anime, but that’s fine. What these characters represent is more than enough as is. There are still many things that I wish to talk about so I feel this review is pretty barebones and I want you to know that too. Aside from being able to write about another anecdote from my stupid life, Gen is a film that packs a punch the less you know about it. Barefoot Gen is a simple story told extremely effectively. Some may say this film is more style over substance but those people can suck my micro dick. Barefoot Gen is something I would highly recommend to any film or animation fan. While it is not the most polished rock in the bag, it is the most interesting.

Oh and one final thing Barefoot Gen is better than Grave of the Fireflies I will fight you all.

Soaring towards the ground, a lone crow flies frantically in pursuit of a falling girl. Clutching desperately to her white dress, the poor creature struggles in vain to slow her descent. Touched by the crow’s efforts, the peaceful girl lovingly embraces the concerned soul, assuring the animal that all will be fine and thanking it for the worry. The crow, now aware of its powerlessness, ascends back up into the heavens, allowing the girl to fall in tranquillity, awaiting her next journey. A journey of self-discovery. A journey of acceptance. A journey of forgiveness.

Self-discovery. Acceptance. Forgiveness. The driving forces behind Yoshitoshi ABe’s 2002 cult-classic, Haibane ... Renmei. A true gem of a series and a shining example of what the medium is truly capable of, Haibane presents the viewer with a narrative unbound by genre convention and is one created out of a genuine love and passion for artistic expression. Through its evocative atmosphere and setting, Haibane Renmei is a show that enchants the viewer immediately into its world. Awaking from her dream, the falling girl finds herself entrapped in a cocoon before eventually breaking herself free, with no recollection of her life before this event, or of any knowledge of this new world she finds herself in. Given the name Rakka, the other girls who find her, called the Haibane, inform Rakka that she is now a Haibane herself; an angelic being adorning a halo and a pair of wings. The rest of the series sees the newly born Haibane learn more about the world in which she has been placed into and seeking untold answers about the circumstances of herself and the Haibane at large. While Haibane Renmei may seem like a simple show at a surface level glance, it is deceptively so.

Haibane Renmei is a series that presents the viewer with many questions about the world and origins of the Haibane but provides very little answers for any of them, and this is certainly one of the main pieces of criticism I see many people have regarding this series. While perhaps it may have been interesting to learn more about the world and to have many of the mysteries the show presents us with explored, I believe in doing so would strip Haibane of one of its greatest assets. Its ambiguity.

Haibane is a series shrouded in ambiguity and this is certainly one of the most engaging things about Haibane’s narrative. The show respects the viewer’s intelligence and slowly drip feeds the audience small and subtle pieces of information as the show goes along, aiding in our understanding of what the Haibane really are, allowing the audience to piece together things for themselves. The ambiguity of the show is only enforced by the sense of history the show constantly protrudes from itself too. The Haibane often refer to old customs that they follow, simply because the previous generation of Haibane did so too, or of folklores and beliefs carried throughout the seemingly tranquil town the Haibane share with the humans. In the fourth episode of the show, Kanna, a fellow Haibane, informs Rakka of a book she found containing the work of an unnamed figure, and in the proceeding episode, Nemu writes a book as a gift to her friend about the creation of the world and how the Haibane came to be. The constant references to old figures of the past, or of days gone by cements the narrative with a greater sense of mystery, as the answers the audience, and by extension, Rakka seek, are buried by the mutability of time. It aids in enhancing the mystery of the show, and the viewer truly feels all the more alienated about the world and the true nature of the Haibane as a result, instilling a truly evocative setting, while aiding in Haibane’s inherently captivating nature, making the viewer wish to seek the answers they want all the more. It gives the series a kind of “magical” fantasy-like setting about itself.

This sense of history is also present in each locale the Haibane occupy. Each location, from the town, to the Old Home in which the Haibane live, are all run-down, old, and feel as if they have had years of unknown history behind them. As a result of the watercolour paint aesthetic used for the walls, it gives the show a “muddy” vibe, and just by looking at the different sites, can the viewer understand the level of history and decay each place has endured, which, again, aids in enhancing the mystery of the show.

Ultimately, Haibane’s purposeful ambiguity is used as a means to explore one of the show’s core themes of self-discovery, as the protagonist Rakka desperately seeks answers about the true nature of her circumstances and the world in which she has been placed into, much like the viewer who understands nothing about this world initially either. I would argue that Haibane’s lack of definitive answers about the functionality of its world and the mysteries it presents us with, parallels that of the real-life. Much like Rakka, we often find ourselves questioning the viability of what it truly means to be “alive”. What is it like when we die? What does it mean to “be”? What even IS life? Haibane manages to juggle these heavy themes of existentialism in such a way to never feel overbearing or to drown the viewer in nihilism either. It’s there for those viewers who enjoy such thematic exploration but used subtly enough that those who don’t care for such things to look past it if they so wish. But, even though Haibane Renmei requires the audience to piece things together for themselves, I wouldn’t put forward the argument that Haibane Renmei is an incredibly enigmatic series, as I’ve seen others argue from time to time. As I’ve already mentioned, the show drip-feeds the viewer constantly with small pieces of information, which not only acts as an incentive to watch more and keep engaged with the work in order to pick up on such things but allows the viewer to grasp what Haibane attempts to communicate. The ambiguity in the series serves an obvious function in not only theme exploration but in character drama which I’ll get into more a bit later, so in my eyes, I can’t really agree with the notion that the ambiguity is a “flaw”.

As Momo, the creator of Metacritic for Anime once said, “If you can’t see the value of ambiguity, then you’re gay” which is the ultimate checkmate argument!

Haibane’s use of ambiguity also gives the narrative a strange sense of pervasive uneasiness. The second episode of the series, while starting off itself pretty calm and relaxing, reveals things to the audience about the nature of the Haibane and their rules that result in this aforementioned unease. We learn that the Haibane must live separate from the humans, that the entire town is enclosed in a giant wall in which nobody may enter or leave, and the Haibane must stay away from said wall, and that the Haibane are only allowed to use items that no longer have any use to humans, hence the reason as to why they resort to second-hand clothing stores for any necessary items. As a viewer, we never learn the exact reasons as to why the Haibane are treated as such, or why they have to abide by such rules. There’s a constant sense of looming danger or paranoia lurking in the air, which only grows in intensity as the narrative develops. The overall sense of uneasiness is achieved by making the viewer feel nervous somehow; afraid of some over lurking power or threat that they can’t explain, and thus we seek comfort naturally in Rakka, who shares in the same circumstances as we do, allowing the viewer to grow a greater sense of attachment to her as a result of such.

One thing that I certainly appreciated more during my re-watch of the series was just how much thought was put into the first half of the show regarding the heavy use of foreshadowing for future events. The earliest parts of the series offer the audience small yet important subtleties that play a larger role later on, such as in the second episode when Rakka innocently asks Reki what her dream inside the cocoon was, whereupon everyone present at the table goes strangely quiet and the mood becomes much more hostile, cluing the viewer in that despite Reki’s seemingly kind front, she is ultimately a troubled person. Or in the case of episode four when Kuu’s boss asks Rakka if Kuu is going to “disappear”. While the viewer would take this line in the literal sense initially, it takes on a whole new meaning later on in episode six when one of the Haibane takes their Day of Flight; a process in which the Haibane moves on from the world and goes, supposedly, beyond the walls. And there are plenty of other examples of this as well. The use of foreshadowing not only indicates thought put into how the narrative is structured but also makes it more rewarding for a viewer to experience as they piece things together, enhancing the level of engagement with the work at hand.

I’ve seen many people remark that the show only begins to be of any true value in the second half of the series, where the aforementioned Haibane takes her Day of the Flight, as the narrative henceforth centres more so around a continuous drama, and the themes of self-discovery, acceptance and forgiveness are explored in more depth during this period too. However, to make such a claim would be silly in my eyes. The first half of the show is devoted to establishing the world, and the customs of the Haibane, all the while adding layers of characterisation onto some of the cast in their own standalone episodes. During episodes four and five, Rakka accompanies two different Haibane who befriend her, in their work to see what job would be best suited for her, and in both instances, the viewer learns a substantial amount about how the world in which these characters occupy functions, as well as their outlook on it too. Kana’s work involving the fixing of clocks has obvious allusions to the mutability of time, a pervasive concept throughout the narrative, and she even projects some level of introspection into her life as a Haibane too. Nemu, working in a library in episode five with extremely old books that are practically falling apart, once again aids in the sense of history the show permeates, but it also provides the audience with Nemu’s creation story about how the Haibane came into existence, which of course alludes heavily to that of religion, something that is explored much more in the latter half of the series. While certainly the earlier parts of the series still retain that level of uneasiness I mentioned before, the show is still somewhat light-hearted for the most part, depicting each character as being incredibly cheery, all of which seem perfectly happy going about their daily lives. This is what makes the sudden shift in tone in episode six all the more hard-hitting, as the mood built and established early on, is flipped entirely around, ramping up the sense of unease even more, and making the events felt upon Rakka all the more impactful as a result. Without the first-half’s build up, the latter part of the series would not nearly be as effective.

The show also exhibits a plethora of symbolism as well, with perhaps the heavy use of crows being the most prolific example of such. Acting as a direct parallel to the Haibane, the crows in this world are said to carry important things, as they are the only creatures capable of flying over the walls and into the outside world. However, the crows also possess an inherent danger about themselves too, due to the colour of their wings, which in turn factors into the narrative as we learn that a Haibane who comes into contact with the walls will be surely punished. The crows can be seen as a metaphorical representation of “the truth” of the world, due to their ability of flight and their freedom, which is interesting to think about when we consider the most of the Haibane’s general disdain for the creatures. In episode two, Kanna remarks that she “hates crows” which could be taken at face value as in a couple more episodes we see her fighting against them as they keep pulling out all of the trash from the furnace, creating a mess, but also as a statement of her fear of the unknown as the crows can be seen as holding the “truth” about the world. Most of the Haibane in the series seem perfectly complacent about their role in the world and do very little in actually finding their true purpose, with the exception of Rakka, whose opening dream sees her embracing a crow into her arms, and therefore embracing the idea that she is not afraid of seeking the unknown, as she does do in the show. But the crows also act as a means of acceptance for Rakka in the latter half of the series, as one aids her in her quest for self-discovery, which is used to provide the viewer with hints about how Rakka originally ended up in this world, and what the crow in her dream was attempting to accomplish. As such, the crows embody the idea of self-acceptance and forgiveness and help to develop Rakka’s character in the seventh and eighth episode in creative and interesting ways.

What really ties the show altogether and gives the series emotional weight are indeed the wonderful cast of characters, all of which manage to be insanely lovable. Each occupant of Old Home has great chemistry, and you really feel as if these characters truly do like one another, with plenty of wit and banter thrown between them, all of which is adorably charming. There are also plenty of cute moments between the cast too which made me develop a big dumb smile on my face, such as when Kana wakes Rakka up early in the morning by pulling on her halo, as Rakka flails her arms up and down; a moment that always made me laugh, and there are plenty more of this in the show, giving it a real sense of character and likability. While some of the members of Old Home get some level of screen time and development, such as the aforementioned Kana and Nemu, some of the cast are completely neglected, such as Hikari who doesn’t really add much to the plot, or Kuu, who, while certainly playing a larger role, is used more so as a means to kick-start the drama in the second half. The crux of the narrative and its emotional weight relies on the relationship between Rakka and Reki and each of their respective inner turmoils and character arcs.

To begin with, their friendship is one that feels completely genuine, as Reki seems to sincerely care about the well-being of Rakka, as she constantly looks after her. After learning about Reki’s own past, and the hardships she had to endure, does the viewer understand her desire to be there for Rakka, as a fellow Haibane did for her when she was younger. As such, when the roles are reversed, and Rakka has to help Reki, does it take on a greater sense of sincerity and emotional engagement. Reki’s journey of self-acceptance and learning to finally forgive herself for her past mistakes is easily my favourite element of the entire show and consistently had me engaged throughout. I believe the reason as to why her arc and struggles are as effective as they are being because she is just simply an extremely likeable person. Her earnest love for the other Haibane, her kindness, are all things that help the viewer feel sympathetic towards her character and lends itself naturally to give her more emotional weight. Rakka, likewise, is a strong protagonist for a series such as this. Like the viewer, Rakka understands nothing about this world, and therefore we experience the world through her eyes. Everything Rakka learns, we learn. Everything she experiences, we experience. This is what helps drive the emotive insecurities of her character in the latter half of the show even more, as the viewer shares in the pain and sense of alienation she feels as being apart of this world. Rakka’s character arc is all about learning to, like Reki, come to grips with her sin, and learning to forgive herself for what she did in her previous life. Both characters are extremely strong and are able to hold the show together by themselves, emitting boatloads of heart at the same time.

While watching the series, however, it becomes apparent that the show was made on a pretty tight budget! The show often looks really rough around the edges, and plenty of times the character designs were completely off model or simply looked ugly in some scenes, despite how good the designs actually are for the show. In plenty of the accompanying artwork pieces, the character designs themselves look damn beautiful! Even in the few sequences in which the animation gets more fluid, such as in episode four when Kanna and Rakka are riding on a bike to get to work on time, or episode seven when Reki is walking with all of the children from Old Home, the art often takes a hit as a result, and looks bizarre. However, that’s not to say that the show is without merit in the visual department. As I’ve already expressed, the water-colour paint aesthetic used does a good job at moulding each locale and is one that I personally love. Moreover, there were a few scenes that were beautifully crafted. Take for example the scene in the first episode in which Rakka grows her wings. It’s a disturbing, visceral sequence, as the wings penetrate and pierce through her back, and has some unique shots too, such as the one where the wings, concealed in darkness, protrude outwards. Mixed with the music, the scene is perhaps one of the most unique and memorable in the entire show, as well as perhaps the medium at large. Speaking of music, Haibane Renmei boasts one of my all-time beloved soundtracks and is nothing short of what I would consider beautiful. Each track wonderfully enhances the scenes that they’re utilised in and adds onto the show’s overall sense of ambiguity and mystery. Free Bird may perhaps be my favourite piece of music from any anime ever; it’s truly a wonderfully memorising piece of art.

To conclude, Haibane Renmei is a beautiful show and one I have come to love upon re-watching. While certainly, I had enjoyed the show after my first viewing last year, it was only until now was I truly able to appreciate Haibane and was completely engaged with the entire work, even almost tearing up at the show’s cathartic ending scene. Haibane Renmei is a stunning example of what anime is capable of, and a true testament that you can create something so wonderful with such a seemingly simple concept and idea. Attempting to communicate my thoughts and newly found love for this show is something I find hard to properly articulate, as Haibane Renmei evokes such raw and genuine emotions in me. It’s truly a show with a lot to unpack and discover, and I barely even scratched the surface level of what the show deals with as well as the plethora of other themes the anime dabbles in too. Haibane Renmei is a series I give the highest of recommendations to and I believe is the epitome of drama, representing universal themes in a mature and interesting manner. Life is neither pure white nor pure black, but a beautiful charcoal grey.

When analysing art, perhaps the most interesting aspect of it to me is in its ability to communicate and inspire people on a very raw, personal level. Art is certainly a very powerful thing and I’m sure everybody at some point in their lives has been touched by a piece of art before. Perhaps it was a movie that inspired you to peruse filmmaking, as the original King Kong did for me. Perhaps a novel that enchanted you to pick up a pen and ensue writing your own stories. Or maybe it was a song that gave you the motivation to finally pick up an ... instrument and learn to play. The pieces of art that mean to the most to us play an important role in shaping who we are as individuals, as well as our sensibilities, especially if that piece communicated with you at an early enough age. I myself have many pieces of art that have been able to profoundly connect with me before, as I’ve already talked about in previous reviews, but perhaps the most prolific, or, to use a more accurate term, important pieces in defining who I am now as a person, was a series from 2006 produced by one of the most infamous anime studios, KyotoAni, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.

The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya was the first anime I ever watched way back in late 2012, knowing full well that what I was watching was indeed anime, and it affected me at the time in ways I can’t even properly articulate. For 13-year-old LIQ, it opened up a brand-new world; a world in which I could freely explore and learn about; a world full of inspiration and creativity; a world that I could escape into from my perceived concurrent boring, everyday life. While I would still consider myself quite an aimless guy, even nearing 20 years of age, my early exposure to anime opened up my imagination as I was exposed to media that I never thought could ever be created, and anime became deeply entrenched in who I was growing into adolescence, and profoundly changed my sensibilities and taste in what I wanted to peruse in terms of narrative and aesthetic when it comes to my passion for filmmaking. For as much as I make fun of anime for all its troupes and clichés, it’s ultimately a medium I care very deeply for, as it is so intrinsically linked to my coming-of-age and Haruhi was the series that started it all, so much so that whenever I think back to it, or re-watch the show, I’m transported back to that time in my life.

While I don’t mean to delve too much into my personal life in my reviews, nor do I usually preface them with this much background information, I believe it is important when discussing Haruhi, as to me it’s an important series in defining who I am today. However, trying my best to squeeze out the immense bias I feel for this show, allow me to elaborate on why Haruhi, disregarding my personal history with it, is still a show worth your time!

Before diving into the various elements that make up the narrative, it’s worth pointing out that there exists two different ways in which you could possibly consume this series: the chronological order (which I will be referring to for the sake of this review) and the broadcast order. Perhaps only unique to Haruhi, during its original broadcasting over in Japan, the episodes were all aired in a non-linear fashion, intermixing the six-episode Melancholy Arc with the other stand-alone episodes, while the chronological order places the aforementioned Melancholy Arc in succession at the beginning of the series, with the standalones at the end. During my annual re-watches of Haruhi I’ve experimented with both modes of watching the series, both of which have their own pros and cons. If you are planning on seeing this show for the first time, then I’d strongly recommend checking out the chronological order first, as it won’t leave you in confusion, and as the Melancholy Arc is presented in succession, it will be easier to follow the events of said arc. However, you may feel that the show suddenly loses its narrative grip half way through the series and just devolves into a series of “filler” episodes (although I’d argue these still hold up on their own which I’ll get into a little later) and indeed the chronological order ends on the weakest episode in which Kyon gets a heater (I’ll be getting to that blasted episode a little later too!) Watching the broadcast order is certainly a unique ride, as the show seemingly seems to jump from random episode back to the more narrative driven Melancholy Arc, and intermixing both during its duration does help in creating better flow, but the first episode would definitely be a confusing one to start off with, if you were to have no context of the show at all. The reason for that is because the very first episode of the broadcast order is of a terrible short film Haruhi makes in episode eleven of the chronological order, and watching this film, with no framework for what is happening or who these people are will certainly be a strange experience indeed. However one may argue that this is indeed a good episode to begin with, as it conveys Haruhi’s meta humour rather well, and as this episode is followed by the first episode of the chronological order by introducing Haruhi’s character as she was absent in the previous one, could be a fine way to start. Additionally, beginning the series in such a way firsthand with no context is an experience I will never have as I watched the series in the chronological order to begin with, so perhaps for those who viewed the show in the manner opposite to mine will be able to properly articulate why the non-linear mode of consuming the show is the one in which people should try.


Ultimately, having two different ways in which one could experience the show just adds onto its overall charm, as well as its potential rewatchability (considering you didn’t dislike it by the time you watched one way of consuming the show) and, if anything, the eccentric nature of Haruhi’s narrative structure falls in line with the eccentricities of Haruhi (and by large the show itself). Regardless of which structure you chose, both are definitely ones that will (hopefully) engage with you.

Before diving into the show, first we must establish a basic plot overview: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya revolves around, well, Haruhi Suzumiya, who is known throughout her High School as being a little less than ordinary to say the least. Having spent her previous school years in search of the supernatural or of aliens through means of moving every chair in the classroom into the hallway, or painting large symbols on the ground, or some other variant thereof, Haruhi is helplessly bored of everyday life. That is, until Kyon, our sarcastic protagonist for this tale, begins conversing with her, providing Haruhi with the idea to start the SOS brigade! A brigade that is devoted for locating and finding the supernatural or mysterious and for making life more interesting!

Haruhi’s narrative is largely dependent on meta humour, poking fun at the abundance of anime and manga that feature characters with supernatural abilities while being that kind of show in of itself, with later additions to the cast who just so happen to harbour these characteristics. While I wouldn’t go as far as to say that Haruhi is a deconstruction of these types of shows or anything, it does play around with its meta elements in rather interesting and fun ways, even extending so much as to parody other genres of anime, such as the space opera in episode thirteen, or the detective genre in episodes nine and ten, all the while being able to carry the weight of these episodes just as a result of how strong the character interactions are and how much energy the show seems to permeate from itself. There’s a nice sense of variety to the episodes thanks to the unique powers each character retains to put interesting spins on otherwise mundane activities. Take episode seven, for example, “The Boredom of Haruhi Suzumiya” in which the SOS brigade plays baseball against an actual team of college students, whereupon Nagato uses her alien technology to manipulate data, in other words, to control the bat and the trajectory of the ball in her team’s favour. And, again, likewise in episode thirteen, to deactivate the computer club’s cheating system when the brigade challenges them to a video game. The sci-fi elements not only extend to making otherwise dull high school activities interesting, but in creating new scenarios entirely, from the characters travelling between different fabrics of reality, or having them encounter strange entities, keeping the show consistently engaging. There also seems to be a level of self-irony and awareness too, as our narrator, Kyon, constantly pokes fun at how ridiculous the show can get sometimes, and often breaks the fourth wall, bringing attention to the fact that we are indeed watching an anime, which to me always came off as wonderfully charming and tongue in cheek, but most importantly, rather humorous.

As I already alluded to, the series can be fundamentally split into two halves: the Melancholy Arc and the stand-alone episodes that follow straight afterwards. The former has a greater focus on more of an overarching narrative, mainly centred around resolving the melancholy Haruhi is faced with, while the second sees her trying to curb her boredom by entering her brigade in various competitions, such as baseball as I already discussed, or going on retreats. While it would seem that the latter half would be weaker than the former as it follows less of an overarching narrative, I’d argue that it still holds up, not only for the energy and character interactions that I mentioned in the previous paragraph, but because the latter half still develops Haruhis and Kyon’s relationship while subtly providing introspection into the other characters, all the while building upon established characterisation. One such example of this would be in the thirteenth episode, in which, Nagato, a character who had been thought of as having no interest in anything aside from books, has fun playing a video game, and by the end of the episode actually admits that she would want to go back next door to play from time to time, adding a new layer onto her character, and making her feel more human (well, as human as possible considering that she is essentially an incredibly sophisticated stream of information, or, in other words an alien!)

While I feel that the latter episodes have enough vigour in them to remain enjoyable, I couldn’t make the argument that they’re all as strong as each other, as is the case of the final episode in the series, in that it is an entire episode of Kyon travelling to a shop to obtain a heater. That’s it! Aside from being incredibly dull anyway, the episode is padded with about three whole minutes of just Nagato sitting on a chair and reading, while the sound of a nearby club, assumingly the drama club, rehearse their play. Occasionally, she turns a page. Sometimes she doesn’t. Riveting! For the final episode of the series, it doesn’t particularly leave a good final impression and is the reason many advocate for people to watch the show in the broadcast order, to avoid leaving the show on such a low note. Funnily enough, it seems KyoAni were even aware of this themselves, and of the reaction this episode must have igarnered from the Japanese fans at the time, as, a year later in their next series, Lucky Star, the protagonist, Konata, upon watching said episode, remarks that, “they really cut corners on this one. Nagato just sat there the entire time!”, before turning to her computer screen and baring witness to the flame war initiated as a result of that enthralling episode.

However, even this weaker episode was still able to contain a wonderful final moment between Kyon and Haruhi, cementing their relationship and bond, and this relationship is the crux of both Haruhi’s development and the entire narrative weight of the show. Haruhi’s internal conflicts and her need for escaping monotony is the cornerstone of her character, and while the other members of the brigade exist solely for her desires (Nagato as the accessory, Koizumi as the man who doesn’t refuse any of her requests and agrees with her on everything and Mikiru as her plaything) it’s ultimately Kyon, the human of the group, who she reflects her personal hang-ups onto, and who has the greatest influence on her actions, making her realise that indeed she is truly human. Haruhi’s desire for an interesting world filled with interesting things is completely viable, as is evident in her short monologue to Kyon in which she talks about the time in which the cold truth was finally thrust upon her. As a child, she came to the realisation that ultimately she is not all that special and is just one person in a sea of millions of people in all of Japan, which not only justifies why she acts the way she does, but it also aids in crafting a more emotionally dense character, and is a definitive point in their relationship as this was the first time she had probably ever revealed such personal information to anybody in her life.

Moreover. in the latter half of the series, Haruhi changes in subtle yet meaningful ways in her relationship with Kyon. Such an example is when she gets irritated when Kyon and Mikiru get along with each other indicating personal feelings for him, or when Kyon’s words have influence over her actions and she thinks twice, as is the case when she offered Nagato or Mikiru as a prize to the Computer club if they won the aforementioned video game challenge.

Perhaps the most interesting moment in the series in which Haruhi’s character grows is in episode twelve, in which Haruhi steps in to cover for a band whose lead guitarist and singer had accidentally sprained her ankle. After doing so, she is thanked for her efforts, in which Haruhi, instead of acting arrogant or boastful at her achievement like one would expect from her character up until that point, doesn’t know quite how to respond and ends up being bashful as a result. Haruhi is not used to people appreciating her, but what’s most significant about this is how she drags Kyon along with her when the girls from the band come to thank her in person. Haruhi needs Kyon for emotional support, going to show just how strong Haruhi truly depends on Kyon even though she would never admit it herself. As much as Kyon would hate to admit it himself too, Haruhi truly does add colour to his life, quite literally in fact, as in the opening sequence for the first episode in which Kyon narrates about his boring everyday life free from espers, ghosts or time-travellers, everything the cinematography is of a washed out dull grey. However, when he meets Haruhi colour returns back into his life. It’s an interesting and creative way to show the affect that Haruhi has had on Kyon’s life, and is one that certainly cements their strong bond.

While Haruhi is indeed a strong female protagonist, and her eccentric, loud and egotistical personality, contrasted with that of Kyon’s sarcastic and cynical comments, is enough to hold the show together, there are some elements of her character that come across as trite. Most notoriously are the scenes in which she forcibly changes Mikiru into different outfits, be it either a maid or into a bunny girl, just to work in some forced fanservice and to market figures and other lewd merchandise that you would expect from a scantily clad anime chick. These scenes are easily the weakest of the entire show, and it’s a similar problem I had with a later KyoAni show, K-on, in which the teacher of that respective series would dress the girls up in innumerable outfits. Mikiru as a character anyway serves very little purpose in the narrative, other than to just drop a hint to Kyon which comes in handy when he finds himself in a helpless situation with Haruhi in episode six, and is more so of the mascot character, as quoted by Haruhi herself.

Nagato, aside from being my first anime crush (I have a serious thing for smart girls with glasses and short hair) commands a lot more presence in the narrative than that of Mikiru, and even has a pretty entertaining fight sequence in the forth episode. Nagato’s deadpan, serious face and mannerisms always put a smile on my face, and she even has a few moments at trying to replicate comedy, such as when she refuses to open the door for Haruhi in episode ten due to her following Haruhi’s orders to an absolute. Much of Nagato’s character gets developed in the move tie-in, The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya in 2010, which was actually my favourite movie of all time back when I had watched it those many years ago and comes highly recommended too.

One piece of criticism I’ve seen regarding Nagato, and the show at large, is how she is essentially a dispenser for exposition, such as in the case of the beginning of the third episode, but I believe this can be generally excused if we take into account Nagato’s character, and how it makes sense for her within the context of the narrative to talk on in long unbroken takes about complicated and intricate systems due to her essentially being a stream of conscious information. Besides that, the few exposition scenes in the series were fine for me, either because they were pretty short to begin with so they didn’t feel overwhelming or they were intermixed with Kyon’s sarcastic comments making them enjoyable to watch, so I’d argue that to make the case of exposition being a problem in the show would be a pedantic one to make. The final character worth mentioning is Koizumi, the somewhat pretentious Esper who, as noticed by Kyon, seems to be putting up an artificial personality of who he truly is in front of Haruhi in order to keep her mental state stable. Kyon and Koizumi’s interactions throughout the series are perhaps some of the most entertaining to watch for me, as the long drawn out pretentiousness of Koizumi creates an interesting contrast with that of Kyon, but there’s also an air of playfulness about Koizumi as well which permeates itself many a time in the various activities the SOS brigade finds themselves in too; he is a character whom we can never really truly figure out and understand, and much about him is wrapped in mystery, much like the origins of the organisation he works for, playing in the meta elements once more of the secret black organisation or any variant of that kind of cliché.

The animation as a whole is pretty consistent and strong, and it really does shine in a couple of areas, such as in the aforesaid fight Nagato is involved with for all the crazy backgrounds and effects, but also during the performance of the show’s most infamous track, "God Knows!" The scene is pretty well damn animated, and the close-up shots and attention to detail in Haruhi’s face as the sweat pours down her face while she sings to the heavens are some great pieces of animation. However, there also a few moments of poor animation too, such as in the case of the already mentioned final episode, in which Nagato just sits there and occasionally moves a page, and in the case where everyone excluding Harhui face off against a giant CGI cricket. While this CGI doesn’t look too bad for mid-2000s standards (and could be argued that, as this is the only moment of CGI integration, it makes the monster seem all the more alien as it doesn’t resemble anything from the established world), there’s a shot in which the backs of the characters move up and down awkwardly like cardboard cut-outs to simulate movement and talking; it looks rather silly.

The music is also of a pretty great standard, and the track, God Knows, is a song that I have listened to so often that I don’t think I could ever forget it; it’s just so damn great! And that greatness also extends to the voice actors too, all of which do an amazing job, featuring two of my favourite voice actors for Kyon and Haruhi: Sugita Tomokazu and Hirano Aya respectively. Speaking of voice actors, Haruhi has probably my favourite English dub ever! Each member of the cast does a wonderful job at portraying their characters, with Freeman, Crispin's role as Kyon I believe outshining that of the original dub!

Additionally, every piece of music the show has to offer is so intrinsically ingrained in my mind, that every time I hear it, I am transported back to the time in which I first watched the show those many years ago, which also means I remember the embarrassing video I made of me dancing to the ending track of Hare Hare Yukai. Every time I revisit that old video, and I remember how much of a weeb I was back then in my outwards love for the medium, I want to dig a dark hole and stay there forever…

To conclude, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is still one of the most popular anime ever made, and its legacy is still being felt today, with frequent references and call-backs in even recent seasonal shows! Haruhi was a real game changer, and the fanbase exploded when it first came out in 2006, and even though I was six years late to the party, it still had a profound affect on me. Haruhi is a series that I can’t talk about without incorporating my personal history with this community and fanbase, but, even trying to push that aside, Haruhi still has a lot to offer, through its charm, characters and meta elements, even if those meta elements could, frankly, be developed somewhat more and not just used mainly for irony. Haruhi is, at the end of the day, a series I wholeheartedly care for. Perhaps I have been biased. Perhaps I have overpraised the series and looked over its problems too much. But, I believe the relationship between the viewer and how a work connects with them is important, and hopefully I have been effective in communicating that today. With that all said and done, thanks for taking the time to read the stuff that I write, and I’ll leave you with my favourite quote from the show:

“I don’t know how I know I just know that I know you know?”
-Itsuki Koizumi

Adorned with a glorious outfit, lovingly crafted by her best friend, the Cardcaptor takes her stance in wake of the challenge that lies before her. Illuminated by the pearlescent glow of the moon, the card spins frantically, before eventually grinding to a halt. Silent. Still. Untouched. Suddenly, bursting outwards in a sea of flames, consuming the once night sky and claiming it as its own, the card reveals its true form and surrounds the young girl in a prison of flames. Unaffected at the fiery blaze before her, the Cardcaptor stands her ground, readying her staff to tame the beast which threatens her. It’s time ... to add another card to the roster…

Magical girls! I’m pretty sure it goes without saying, but the magical girl genre is a staple of the medium, and certainly has been ever since its inception in the 1960s, with Sally the Witch being widely considered to be the first magical girl anime (albeit the manga for Akko-chan’s secret predates Sally by a good five years!) Over the next thirty or so years, the magical girl genre would slowly mould and take shape into what we see today in many of the more children-oriented magical shows, with the Sailor Moon franchise often being considered as the show to establish the standard formula that many later shows of its genre would follow during the 90s, before seeing an influx of magical girl deconstructions in the early 2000s, with Princess Tutu being the most notorious example of such. When looking at the magical girl shows of today and excluding entries of the ever running Precure series and other similar anime marketed towards children, many try to adopt and replicate the success and popularity of Meduka Meguca (also known as Madoka Magica, the former name of which is a far superior title; screw you, fight me!) a show that placed their cute and adorable young girls and threw nothing but death and misery in their faces! Even if you’re not particularly that well-versed in the genre, as am I, you’re probably familiar with the general conventions and the iconography surrounding said genre, as it’s been parodied time and time again in many shows, and whenever an anime series creates a fictional anime within its world and gets all meta, many-a-time do they opt for a magical girl show, such as in the case of Puru Puru Pururin from Welcome to the NHK or Stardust Witch Meruru from Oreimo. However, for such an influential genre, what would be a good gateway show in getting more seriously invested in the various magical girl shows out there?

I believe that answer lies in Cardcaptor Sakura, which would not only make for a good starting point into the Mahou Shoujo genre but is also in of itself a delightful show; one that I have fallen in love with so much so that it has broken into my top ten favourite anime! Through its wonderfully charming cast of characters and shining creativity, Sakura is a series I wholeheartedly love and after allowing the series to sit with me for a while before starting up this review, I can honestly say that Sakura is perhaps one of the best experiences I’ve had with not only an anime, but with any piece of media! But, with that all said and done, let’s dive into the numerous reasons why I adore this show!

Sakura Kinomoto, our protagonist for this tale, is an average happy-go-lucky, fourth grader, who, when coming upon a mysterious book in her home, accidently breaks the seal of said book, causing the contents, that being 52 cards referred to as Clow Cards, to inexplicably scatter all over Japan. But the cards are not the only thing to be released mind you! Awakening from his slumber, Keroberos, an adorable little lion with wings who just so happens to be the guardian of the cards, informs Sakura that she must collect all 52 cards, or a catastrophe will occur as each card contains powerful magic. Realising what she has done, Sakura takes it upon herself to gather the cards, becoming Cardcaptor Sakura, and, along with her best friend, Tomoyo, a girl more concerned with filming Sakura in cute outfits and capturing every one of her moments on film than anything else in life, begin their journey of finding each and every card!

Cardcaptor Sakura’s narrative is one that is not all too complicated, and things progress in ways you can probably expect, with the first half of the series seeing Sakura collecting each and every card, while the second half of the series sees her transforming each one into Sakura Cards, thus claiming them as her own, while intermixing a heavier focus on romance. What sells Sakura’s narrative is in its simplicity and charisma, all the while emitting a wonderful childlike innocence about itself. Sakura is the type of show I can well imagine me enjoying as a child, and, like Little Witch Academia last year, is also a show that is able to evoke these feelings of childlike nostalgia and wonder in me. It’s a raw, personal kind of feeling I get, and is one that I find hard to properly articulate into words. There’s something wonderfully uplifting about Sakura’s narrative, that with each episode that passed I couldn’t help but inadvertently smile. It’s that complete sense of optimism and incorruptibility about the show that made Sakura such an enjoyable and relaxing time for me, presenting a world filled wonder and excitement in the same way a child growing up looks at the world, which, for as someone who has become cynical of things in my early years of adulthood, helped me remember those feelings I once had about life, especially as Sakura is filled with boat loads of heart. Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic and melancholic here, but that’s how I honestly feel, and Sakura makes me feel this way in ways I can’t quite describe or understand, which is why I feel such admiration about the show.

Anyway, enough with that sentimental crap (for I am the manliest man you’ll ever meet and I don’t need no cute and innocent show to make me feel better about my life, hmpth!), Cardcaptor Sakura, for the most part, is largely episodic, following a basic formula of introducing a card, Sakura encountering said card, figuring out a way to capture it, and then using the newly captured card in a later episode to catch another one. However, saying that, I don’t mean to insinuate that just because Sakura follows an episodic, “Card-of-the-week” formula, that is it by any means repetitive nor is this a negative. To go on a brief tangent, I’ve never agreed with the sentiment that just because a show employs an episodic narrative structure that it is inherently bad, or of any less value than that of a show that has a continuous on-going story between episodes. While, yes, an episodic narrative structure can mean that the anime can easily get trapped into a formula and become stale, I don’t believe that all shows that utilise this form of story-telling fall into the same trap or should be thought of as having less value because they chose to opt for that kind of narrative. Let’s take Cowboy Bebop for example. While beloved within the anime community still, and often revered as a cult classic, one piece of criticism I see quite often hurled its way from those who are not as fond of the show as others is that Bebop’s episodic narrative structure holds it back and prevents the show from developing its story or cast, and to that I completely disagree. All of the episodes in Bebop centre around establishing and building the world presented to us, adding layers of complexity and characterisation to the cast, and a lot of episodes spend large amounts of time developing each character, going through their mental hang-ups and exploring their past, with enough energy and charisma per episode to keep things interesting. Cardcaptor Sakura works in the same way.

Like Bebop, Sakura uses each episode to slowly build up its cast of characters. We’re always learning something new about them, and the characters themselves are learning more and more about each other as the show goes on in turn, allowing each member of the cast to form relationships between one another in impactful and well-constructed ways. Every episode builds upon the last, adding new layers of characterisation each time, and the sheer amount of creativity each card brings allows for that much freedom for the writers to experiment and play around with, resulting in a lot of variety and originality each and every episode. It really feels like the people behind this show were having an absolute blast with the production, and it truly does show as each episode is oozing with so much love and personality. This is what makes Sakura such an addicting and memorable watch. One episode Sakura will shrink down to the size of a peanut in pursuit of a card as she manoeuvres around her home running from all of the inherent dangers of being that small; another she’ll grow as big as a building and fight off with an immense dragon reminiscent of a giant monster movie! It’s this constant stream of creativity, intermixed with great character interactions and chemistry that really brought the series to life for me, and it only grows in personality as the series moves along.

And that’s not to say that Sakura is void of any emotionally affective drama either. Cardcaptor Sakura can be surprisingly emotive at times and it handles its melodrama with care and maturity, and even sometimes in rather beautiful and profound ways. Take, for example, episode 16, “Sakura and the Rainbow of Memories”. In this episode, Sakura and her family spend a small vacation in a cottage located in the countryside of Japan, whereupon, after adventuring out, is invited to tea by an old man in the area, whom she frequents everyday with for the reminder of her stay. The two naturally grow closer, and Sakura finds out that this old man has lost his grand-daughter, after he offers Sakura her clothing to wear. After a teary goodbye, Sakura uses her magic to create a rainbow for the man as a thank you to him and to recreate the painting the man’s grandchild had made for him whilst she was still alive. The episode ends informing us that indeed this old man was in fact Sakura’s great-grandfather, ending the episode with some wonderful cathartic pay-off and making the first seemingly unimportant episode in the grand scheme of the narrative have more emotional weight and meaning. And that’s just one of the many examples of this!

Sakura is even faced with several moralistic dilemmas regarding the capturing of the cards. The most prolific example of such is in her pursuit of The Dash; an extremely fast card that transforms itself into a small rabbit-like creature. Dash ends up befriending a girl from Sakura’s class, and the two bond together, with Dash helping said girl exceed in her track running, which brightens up her life. Sakura is left with a dilemma however: should she capture Dash as she has been quested to do, but risk the girl losing the race at the national competition as well as losing her newly gained friend? Or should she just leave Dash as is allowing her to win the race, but not from a result of her own abilities but that of the card? This is just one of many examples in the show, and many of the cards are intrinsically linked with several characters in the show who relate their own problems and mental hang-ups, giving each episode a greater sense of emotional pay-off. And it’s not like Sakura is just a series of episodic events either. There are several overarching stories happening simultaneously that slowly build-up in the background that result in their own pay-offs, as is evident in the climax to the first half of the series, which actually had a great plot-twist that I am sure will be a nice surprise (just don’t watch the third opening like I did before then otherwise you’ll ruin it like what happened to me because I am dumb! Learn from papa LIQ’s mistakes!)

However, as expected of a show with seventy episodes, not every one is as strong as each other, and there are some episodes here and there that I didn’t quite care for, as was the case with episode 55, Sakura in Wonderland; a parody of Alice in Wonderland where Sakura gets dragged into the book. While I did get a few smiles here and there seeing the cast portrayed as the characters from the original novel, I mainly zoned out for much of the duration as I’ve seen this kind of thing done a million times before in countless other shows. However, the episodes in which I found to be lacking were definitely the minority and for a show to have perhaps three or four episodes, that, I didn’t feel were bad, just “meh” is quite an achievement.

Dependent on your levels of tolerance, you may find yourself somewhat irritated at Sakura’s level of denseness in regards to the premonitions she has nearing the climax of the first half and how long it takes her to put two and two together regarding the identity of the person from her dream, even when it is pretty obvious from the get-go. However, I can generally excuse it on accounts that she is still a child, and because of her good girl personality. Finally, one may have an issue regarding the level of suspension of disbelief you have to endure during your watch, as Sakura flies throughout the city with nobody seeing her at all which would be pretty difficult, and in the episode in which she grows to the size of a building to fight a dragon, not a single person sees her at all, despite the noise and damage to the area. While these are indeed critism somebody could make against the show, I would ultimately argue that they are pretty pedantic and do not take anything away from the show even when you factor them in.

If I were pinned down to the floor by a group of thugs in the middle of the night in a dark alleyway and under extremely specific circumstances was told to describe Cardcaptor Sakura in a single word otherwise risk getting shot in the face, I would say “charming”.

Charming. I believe that best sums up Sakura in a single word and is certainly the best way for me to describe the characters presented within it. When I am consuming any piece of fiction, the most important element to me are indeed the characters, as they hold the key, if you will, into whether I am invested in the piece that I am watching. Characters are what I personally value most in any given circumstance, and while I am a guy who likes a good o’ story to go along with my characters, I can generally be more forgiving of a show if the characters have wonderful chemistry. And indeed, the characters of Cardcaptor Sakura have wonderful chemistry. This is what I believe Sakura excels at the most, and that is crafting emotionally rich and charismatic characters the audience can grow easily attached to, and some of my favourite moments in the show, and truly the most delightful, are when the characters are just goofing around together. My jaw has physically hurt after some episodes due to the sheer number of times the characters and their interactions have made me smile, especially Keroberos, nicknamed Kero-chan.

My love for this tiny guy truly knows no bounds and is easily not only my favourite character in the entire show, but also one of my favourites in the medium. He’s massive ego, insane love of food and strange accent all perfectly worked together to create a character whom made me grin every single time he was on screen, but Kero isn’t just a mascot character however. Aside from dishing out exposition about the cards and the such, there’s genuine level of love for Sakura, his new master, and their relationship actually builds and develops as the series goes on, culminating in a beautiful friendship. The relationship that builds between both characters is one that is completely believable and feels sincere; as if the two had known each other their entire lives. Kero isn’t simply a selfish asshole who sees Sakura as an inconvenience but someone who openly cares for her as a person and her well-being. The two even get into arguments as well, such as in the case of episode 15, “Sakura and Kero’s big fight” where the two argue about petty things for the entire episode but learn to look past them and to appreciate each other for who they truly are, adding emotional weight as well as a real sense of maturity to their relationship.

While Sakura herself is your typical cheery and optimistic girl you would probably expect from a series such as this, she does go through a substantial amount of development, both in terms of her actual magical power and in her coming of age and growing to realise whom she truly loves in the latter half of the series, eventually concluding that aspect of her character arc in the second movie. However, that’s not to say that Sakura is solely just a cheery innocent girl with no other characteristics or emotions. Sakura frequently has moments of depression and self-doubt whereupon she reflects on herself as both a person and as a magical girl, adding more complexity and introspection into her character, all the while receiving mass amounts of characterisation, moulding her into more of an honest human being rather than an expressionless plank of wood, with her interactions between her and her brother being the best example of such. Sakura is a strong protagonist for this kind of show, so much so that every time she succeeded in whatever task that came her way, did I feel a sincere sense of accomplishment as well, resulting in my once cynical and cold heart being warmed once again. What sells Sakura is in her simplicity and how this simplicity is delivered with boats loads of heart.

Perhaps the thing I was most impressed by with Sakura’s cast is how subtlety characters grew together. Perhaps this is a pedantic thing to praise Sakura for, but the sheer amount of anime I’ve watched that simply have characters deliver internal monologues about the status of their relationships with other characters, or what they’re feeling about said relationships is astounding, and Sakura does away with such a feature, making the relations that do grow and develop feel all the more grounded in a sense of believability. Much like how I became to grow fonder of the characters as the series developed, the cast themselves warmed up to each other as well. Take Sharon for example, a kid from Hong Kong who locates to Japan in search of the Clow Cards, becoming a rival to Sakura in the process. While starting out cold and distant, adamant about working together with Sakura and generally putting up a barrier between himself and the people around him through his apprehensive attitude, Shaoran eventually begins to warm up to the rest of the cast. He starts to admire Sakura and her abilities, and grows to fully understand her as a person, and opens up the rest of his classmates in the process, to the point that he begins to care for Sakura as a person and her well-being, all the while doing so in a subtle way. With each passing episode, Shaoran’s demeanour slowly changes, and characteristics established in the earlier parts of the series begin to fade away and be replaced, all the while never having to resort to exposition or internal monologues to convey his change in attitude regarding Sakura and everyone else, treating the viewer with respect. The same thing can also be said of Sharon’s cousin, Meiling, who, like Sharon, begins her relationship with Sakura and the rest of the cast rather apprehensively, before eventually seeing Meiling grow to care for Sakura, resulting in a heartfelt letter in which Meiling writes, “to my dear friend”, a clear juxtaposition from the start of the series.

While there are many other characters in the show, speaking about each one individually would be rather redundant, and would take away from their magic (pun intended) in the show. However, there are some personality quirks and reoccurring gags that you may find to be somewhat lacking. While it is somewhat entertaining, and especially cute when Sakura and Shaoran keep falling for them, Yamazaki’s lies and the gag surrounding that can become somewhat tiering and unfunny for me the more it goes along, and the same thing can be said regarding Tomoyo’s obsessive recording of Sakura (albeit, nowhere near as bad as the former piece of comedy I just mentioned). I can easily see Meiling’s character being rather annoying and hard to put up with for some people, especially with how clingy and whiney she can be at times around Shaoran, even if I didn’t personally find her that grating personally. While I did have maybe one or two slight problems here and there with elements of some character quirks, that’s all they are when you break it down: slight; and don’t really do much to take away from the overall experience and are small things that can be overlooked.

Cardcaptor’s animation as well has aged pretty well for being twenty-years-old, and there are genuinely some great animation cuts here, with one of my favourites being a moment in which Meling is punching a bunch of penguin statues (I swear, it looks a lot better than how I am describing it here!). The animation and art are damn amiable at times too, with a lot of cartoony pull and stretch as well as a multitude of various reaction shots, adding to the charm of already charming characters and locals, although the art can get somewhat “CLAMP-Y” at times, with Toya and Yukito in some shots appearing as massive NBA players with the thickness of a pencil! Every time Sakura used the cards, it was an absolute treat for the eyes with swooping special effect work and animation, combined with rather attractive and unique designs for the physical forms of each card, with Firey and Watey perhaps being my favourite out of the bunch. Likewise, the soundtrack is handled with just as much care and love as every other element, with every piece being more or less burned into my mind, with the music used to accompany Sakura using a card being my favourite of the series. It’s magical, yet exciting arrangements always managed to make me fervent whenever she would bust out a card. Similarly, the openings and the endings are also a treat, with each one being incredibly memorable and wonderful pieces of music in their own right, with the first ending, one featuring Kero running endlessly across a hill, being one I could watch on repeat forever.

Moreover, Cardcaptor Sakura also has two movies, both of which I believe are worth checking out. The first of which, taking place at roughly episode 35 of the TV series, sees Sakura win a trip to Hong Kong before running into both Meiling and Shaoron. The film is essentially like watching an extended version of a regular TV episode and contains just the same amount of charm and likeability about itself, so much so that I was smiling the entire time whilst watching it. While this film can be skipped as it doesn’t add anything to the overall canon, I’d ultimately recommend it, not because it’s a good time in of itself, but just because we get to see Shaoran’s family, and can fully understand why he is so adamant about collecting all of the cards and impressing his strict mother.

The second film however is definitely the one you should prioritise and watch as it is a direct continuation of the TV series, picking up exactly were the last one left off. To put it bluntly, I adore this film! It’s a perfect summarisation of everything I loved about the show, compacted into ninety minutes, and my jaw actually hurt by the time I had finished watching the film as I was doing nothing but smiling during the entire runtime. It wraps up nicely a certain releationship and character arc that I don’t want to specify as I wish to avoid spoilers as much as possible for those who have not watched the show yet, ending the concurrent story on an incredibly satisfying note!

There exists some other supplementary Sakura material out there, that can be ignored if you so wish, but if you decide to watch them, shouldn’t really take up no more than twenty minutes of your time. There’s a short directed by the same dude who directed Monster, called “Leave it to Kero-chan” which is a fun little ten minute special, as well as a mini three part series in which Tomoyo films various things in Sakura’s life, which I’d recommend checking out the first episode of which at least as it goes all meta as Tomoyo films Sakura recreating the first opening, and even ends with her voice actress, Sakura Tange, performing “Catch You Catch Me”.

To finally conclude, as if it was not already evident enough, I adore Cardcaptor Sakura. It’s a show that appeals to me on a very raw personal level and is the perfect balance of everything I look for and admire in a show, exceling in the area that matters the most to me: the characters. Sakura is not only a shining example of what the magical girl genre is capable of, but also a shining example of what anime at large is capable of as well. Sakura is just another example of why I stick around in this medium because, every so often, a gem comes along like this one, and profoundly connects with me. Before I die from sucking this show’s dick for over 4,300 words, I think I best resign here! Thanks for taking the time to read what is effectively a fanboy harping on about how much he loves a show about an innocent magical girl that warms his once cold heart!

And now, onwards to Clear Card!

Over the last few years or so the discussion regarding the use of CGI in anime has grown all the more prominent which in turn has led to disdain from fans, devaluing any show that would dare to use it. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but the overreliance on this technology and the way in which it incorporated with traditional animation, unfortunately, leaves much to be desired. The end product is usually a show that looks bizarre as the two modes of animation don't make clear, visual, coherence sense. CGI is a wonderful tool and I believe it should be used in anime, but ... that usually comes with an asterisk. Ideally, CGI should be used to enhance shots or backgrounds, adding in small details that should hopefully blend them seemingly into the world. Anime doesn't really do CGI well. I still have nightmares whenever a CGI crowd is used in a show. Platic and emotionless humans. Just like my soul. But, what about anime series that are ALL CGI? You probably know where I am going with this segway and I would like to say, for definite, here and now, that the best CGI production in anime is none other than... Gantz O. BUT Land of the Lustrous ranks a close second and gives me hope for the future of CGI TV anime. And I believe this series is an important stepping stone in the evolution of the medium, something I don't say lightly.

Set in the distant future, Land of the Lustrous tells the story of a group of women. But instead of flesh, bones, and the number one thing on a top ten list that hates me, these women are instead made out of gems and rocks. Along with a balding, seemingly human monk who possesses grand powers, have to fight off against a race called the Moon Dwellers; race of strange creatures who descend from said place who maintain the objective of capturing these characters. Much of the series focus is placed onto the protagonist, Phosphophyllite, as she slowly comes to age and grows not only into a more developed, eh, "gem" but also physically too.

Land of the Lustrous has this way of immediately immersing me into its atmosphere and world, not only through its wonderful use of music and beautiful looking scenery but just from all the nuances the narrative provides. The fact that each gem has specific characteristics, and is classed in accordance with their strength. The fact that they can be broken into tiny pieces and stuck back together again. They can lose their memories if certain body parts are missing, that they have to hibernate over winter as they grow weaker and tired, and that they can potentially be combined with other elements for different effects. All of these small pieces of worldbuilding may seem like throwaway pieces of exposition but when viewed in their totality creates a distinc and interesting setting. Every sm It’s the use of these creative elements that makes Houseki such a wonder to watch, and helps to differentiate it from much of its ilk; its these elements and ideas that I can’t get anywhere else, but they are not simply played as gimmicks either, but as an integral aspect of the setting and narrative.

Additionally, the show has this overbearing sense of mystery, and almost whimsical sense to it as well. Much like our protagonist, Phos, who knows nothing of this world, so do we as an audience, so we experience the world and learn new things about it as does Phos, which not only helps us grow more attached to this character as well, but the rules and mysteries of this world are dished out to the audience in a consistent pace, keeping the narrative interesting and fresh. Moreover, the show has several mysteries as well, such as what the true nature of the Moon Dwellers actually are or the state of humanity, evident in a scene where Phos is trying to recollect the events that transpired earlier in which she (yes, for the sake of convenience I'm going to be referring to the gems as "she"; I apologise for being a CIS white male and assuming gender) can’t remember as she had lost some of her body parts, but mentions the word “human” which greatly alarms that of the Sensei, the guardian and father figure of the Gems, giving us insight into the seriousness of the memory Phos has, and sliding little hints to the audience about the true nature of the Sensei character himself. The show even dabbles in some philosophical ideas too in the fifth episode, regarding what it means to truly be human and what it truly means for someone to die, as the very concept of death is foreign to the Gems, and while it is not explored to much substantial merit, the show does throw around this idea, making the Gems feel more believable with a greater sense of purpose.

There’s even a genuine sense of narrative stakes and ambiguity too, not only from the idea that we never know when the Moon Dwellers will attack next, but the general sense of uneasiness the narrative presents too. There’s always a sense of danger in the air; a sense of looming dread and fear, which permits itself into much of the narrative, which actually does a good job at making me fearful for each one of the Gems, and there is a genuine sense of sadness and melancholy when one of the Gems is defeated and taken away. You feel the weight of this loss, as the other Gems do, making it all the more powerful when these moments in the show do occur. The show does leave many questions unanswered however, and some plot points haven’t yet been resolved as the manga is still running alongside the show, but what the show does cover manages to provide a solid foundation for a second season to greatly build upon, with enough time in this season devoted to establishing the world and the way in which the gems work in said world, all of which is solid enough to stand by itself I believe.

Perhaps the show’s biggest strength is in its characters and their charming and fun interactions between one another, and, despite not each one receiving development or attention, their unique personalities and characteristics result in some wonderfully funny moments and scenes which makes the characters rather likeable, and these were some of the best moments in the show for me. They all have delightful chemistry, and one of the best examples of this great character dynamic is a scene in which all of the gems freak out at seeing Phos’ newly gained abilities and seeing how each different gem reacted was pretty damn sweet, adding onto their respective characters. All of the characters, in some form or another, is given some level of introspection and time to breath, allowing the audience to understand their perspectives on the world, from Yellow Diamond’s perception as a result of being the eldest, to Antarcticite regarding her unique, and isolated role during the winter, all adding onto our understanding of the world. There are plenty of characters I could talk about, but I’ll just discuss the characters with the most bearing on the plot.

Phos, our main character, is one in which is a representation of a child growing up in harsh world, and learning to mature in that time. Being the youngest of all the gems, and wanting to grow and prove herself, she eagerly jumps into action in order to do so, resulting in many accidents in which she has to either be saved, or put back together. You may find yourself kind of annoyed by how much Phos messes up at first, since it seems that almost every episode she ends up having to repeat this process, but these mistakes end up shaping the person she will become in the future and aiding her development. As the series progresses, and she realises the gravity and danger of fighting against the Moon Dwellers, after seeing one of her friends perish protecting her from them, her character embarks on a change into maturity, with a much more serious demeanour than before. In the final episodes of the show, she even reflects on her past self, stating that she was jealous of her immaturity, reflecting in her change of character as a result of the harsh reality of the world. Phos character, while perhaps coming across as maybe rather obnoxious, especially in the beginning of the series, was still able to make me laugh a numerous amount of times and I could excuse most of it on the grounds of her age and lack of knowledge about the world. Her character is pretty reltable as well, since we too have been in postions where the world seems to treat you like a child, and that feel of wanting to desperately grow into maturity is one Phos manages to encapsulate rather well. She is also pretty damn likeable, I would argue anyway, which helps the audience to become more invested in her character from the get-go, and the mental trauma and hang ups she faces in the latter half of the series is genuinely interesting. Much of Phos’s drive in the narrative, mainly in the earliest parts of it anyway, was her desire to help a fellow gem by the name of Cinncibar, a gem who secluded herself away from the rest since her body secretes a poison. While you may find yourself kind of frustrated at first since this plot point is kind of negated for a while, it does see some kind of resolution in the final episode of the show.

Another character whom gets a nice amount of development is Dia. Aside from being best gem in the series (seriously, I wanna hug her so damn bad) Dia’s development, and character arc in general is all about proving to herself, and to the person whom she loves, that being Bort, that she is more than capable of looking after herself and in the tenth episode of the show, there’s a wonderful moment where indeed she does do so, when fighting off against one of the new Moon Dweller types, cementing her character as one that is grounded in the narrative, and has a lot of emotional weight behind her too, so much so, that I generally care for her whenever she is in danger or feeling melancholic, and many of the characters presented in the show are like this too. Whilst many are fairly simplistic, again, they feel like genuine people in this world, and have enough in the way of distinguishable personalities to carry the emotional weight of the show, while also showcasing different levels of complexity and depth, such as in the case of the Doctor of the gems, who we learn later on pursues the art of the gems in order to help her long lost friend, or in the case of Antarcticite when she hugs the sensei, believing nobody is standing there to see her do so, revealing a softer side to her character than we were led to believe at first. The characters in this show are easily the strongest element and is the main reason why I had so much fun watching this show.

In terms of animation, Houseki is pretty damn solid overall! The CGI in this show looks damn amazing, and move with not only a lot of fluidity, but also quality too. They move gracefully when in combat, and it never comes across as jarring or clunky in the slightest. I also just love the designs for each of the gems too, in particular, their hair. I love the way in which it sparkles, gently illuminating the gems’ uniforms, with perhaps Dia looking the greatest in that regard. The fight sequences are also of a damn great quality, with dynamic and interesting cinematography, and just the way the grass is animated too, and how beautiful it looks, are all small things that I can appreciate, and, again, help the world feel more alive and vibrant. The OST for the show as well does a fantastic job at immersing me into this world, with its often whimsical and mystical tone, complementing the sense of ambiguity the narrative tends to encapsulate. The opening track as well does a great job at capturing the feel of the show, mainly used to represent the loneliness and isolation of Cinncibar to master fall affect.

In conclusion, I loved Houseki quite a fair bit. It’s narrative and world is immediately captivating to me, its characters all feel memorable and have wonderful chemistry between one another, grounding them in a sense of believability, and the animation is some of the best I have seen from a CGI production. Surprisingly, the director of Love Live, actually directed this show too (goddam Love Live will follow me until the day I die, I swear), and he did a good job, especially when we compare the CGI in both respective series, and see how much of a jump Houseki was in overall quality. While certainly not a perfect show, Houseki represents what I love in anime, and that is passion. It feels as if so much love and work was put into this production, and it really does show in many faucets of the show, and I would greatly recommend this. While I didn’t go into as much detail as I usually do when reviewing a show, as I wanted a potential new viewer to watch this show without knowing too much, there is still a lot of potential things to discuss regarding the narrative, with the biggest one being the obvious allusions to that of Buddhism the show seems to have, which I never even touched upon, and a deeper speculation into the sensei character and who he truly may be. Houseki, is truly the gem of the year in my opinion, and sadly one that will be greatly over-looked, but hopefully I may have convinced someone out there to give this show a shot… maybe. (Just remember to say that Dia is best gem or else I'll sleep under your bed at night!)

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It’s a flying Grandpa!

Perhaps it’s rather counter-intuitive to even mention this, considering how much we actively consume as fans of this medium, but anime is… strange. It’s a medium in which vigorously seems to try and go against societal norms; a medium not afraid to cover taboo or heavy topics such as incest or depression, and covers such a myriad of different ideas and themes that if someone were looking for something incredibly specific from a piece of media, they’d probably find their incredibly niche want within anime. This is the main reason why I choose ... to persist as much as I do within this medium, not only since I enjoy strange pieces of media to begin with, but also because I can get stories and concepts in anime that I can’t get anywhere else, such as Haibane Renmei and The Tatami Galaxy to just name a few. I’m always looking out for something that is incredibly bizarre; something to fill that sensation I have to watch weird media, and the people over at MAPPA gave me what I was indeed looking for in the form of Inuyashiki (aka Flying Grandpa Simulator), a show in which a 58-year-old grandpa becomes a cyborg, with a multitude of different abilities, one of which being flight, as he becomes a vigilante of justice, protecting the weak, and curing people of their disease. Inuyashiki is a strange series and one in which I’m not quite sure where the writers were going with this story. For what I believe was supposed to be a moralistic battle against good and evil while presenting ideas of what it means to be human instead devolves into full-blown dumb shlock, and I loved every second of it! Don’t get me wrong, this show is bad. Quite bad in fact. But Inuyashiki has become one of my favourite guilty pleasures in anime with a concept and aesthetic so silly that I can’t take any of it seriously, even when it’s clear I am supposed to at times. Allow me to elaborate:

Inuyashiki Ichirou, our senior male fantasy empowerment for this tale (laugh track at my totally original and clever joke) is not exactly having the greatest of times. Aside from looking much older than he actually is, his entire family resents him, for seemingly no reason. He has no affection for his wife, as they sleep in different rooms of the house, and his children also give him no time of day at all. To make matters worse, Inuyashiki receives unfortunate news that he has got terminal cancer, and, feeling that he can’t tell anybody about this, keeps it to himself, suffering in silence all the more than before. After a trip to the park to cry alone, suddenly, ALIENS! For no reason, and without any explanation at all, aliens accidentally kill both Inuyashiki and a man standing next to him, our main antagonist for this tale, Hiro (who just so happens to be standing next to him for some reason, but whatever). Realising their mistake, the aliens then rebuild both men, turning them into cyborgs in the process! While Inuyashiki uses his newly found powers for good, Hiro uses it for murder, as the rest of the series sees Hiro running from the police and becoming a bigger threat, with Inuyashiki trying to find him with the help of Andou, the once friend of our villain, who wishes to stop his murderous cyborg pal, leading to Inuyashiki’s and Hiro’s inevitable fight at the end.

Flying Grandpa Simulator is fundamentally a tale of good versus evil, with each character’s respective ideologies being as basic as they come. Inuyashiki is the good guy, Hiro is the bad guy. While they do try and provide some introspection into Hiro’s character and the reason why he kills (which I’ll get into a little bit later in this review) this basic set-up is what allows Inuyashiki to be so damn senseless and fun! Flying Grandpa’s narrative is incredibly silly and over the top, but there was not a single moment in the entire show where I was bored and not laughing my ass off at how ridiculous the show could get at times, with the basic good versus evil narrative providing an amusing framework for all the stupid stuff that happens in the show. This acted as an incentive for me to keep watching, just to see what the writer would think up next, and he never failed to entertain me on that front. The show is constantly trying to one-up itself every step of the way, with the narrative becoming more and more cheesy and ludicrous as it goes along, with Hiro proclaiming that he will kill everyone in Japan and even beginning to see through on this proclamation as he takes to the city buildings, and from there, kills hundreds with his finger banging, being the icing on the schlock-filled cake! The anime is all over the place, and the pacing, in particular, is so fast, that it actually works in favour of the show from an entertainment standpoint. One moment we see Inuyashiki flying through the skies accompanied by silly cartoon slapstick music, and then the very next episode we see him infiltrate a yakuza hideout, blind every single person there, and leave completely shirtless (not to mention that in the start of that very same episode, a Yakuza boss walks into a sauna completely naked and forces another guy to give him fellatio!)

Even just all the little strange details the show includes makes it so enjoyable to watch as a piece of shlock for me. Such as is the case of the cyborg bodies of both Inuyashiki and Hiro. Not only is the prospect of seeing an old shirtless man flying through the air one that cracks me up, but the fact that this body, which was created by aliens, includes a USB port under one of the fingernails in order to connect it to an iPhone is such a stupid thing to include, that I burst out laughing when it happened! I guess Aliens also use USBs to connect their iphones to various other devices too?!

However, we still haven't got to my favourite element of the cyborg bodies: finger banging! By just simply forming their fingers into the shape of a gun, much like a kid back when I used to play when I was like six-years-old, and then shouting “BANG” they fire off an invisible bullet of sorts, or, in Hiro’s case, using his entire arm to mimic a machine gun while screaming “DADADADADADA” when firing at a bunch of reporters. Just the idea of comparing Hiro playing with guns to that of a child is one that I found so hilarious, but it ultimately falls in line with Hiro's ideology and mindset; he too, thinks in the same rationality as a child would, so it does make sense within the context of his character to act as such.

Inuyashiki’s narrative is comparable to that of a cheesy science fiction and seems to almost revel in that fact. However, there were some elements and ideas present here, that were actually not completely schlocky, that I thought were kind of interesting. Take, for example, where Hiro hijacks people’s phones and TV screens in order to murder them. It’s nothing great, sure, but I liked this idea since it meant that the killer could appear anywhere, at any time, striking people when they are at their most vulnerable, which added a whole new dimension of tension to those scenes in which Hiro goes on a rampage. It's an interesting concept to take a device which is so engraved in our everyday lives and present it as the biggest threat to our survival. However, despite as such, I would be lying if I said that much of my own enjoyment for Inuyashiki’s narrative is indicative of the schlock and stupid premise, which, while entertaining to watch to kill some time, doesn’t offer much besides that. It’s the type of show to watch drunk or high to get the most out of. If you’re looking for something that comments on the true nature of what it means to be human with themes of existentialism and the such, then you will find no such thing here.

Much of your level of enjoyment of this show stems from whether you enjoy watching bad schlock, and if you can just turn your brain off (since, when you begin to think about each of the world-building elements and ideas then your brain will hurt since nothing makes any logical sense) and just watch all the stupid carnage unfold before your eyes. I had a blast watching Inuyashiki, clearly, and I think that’s worthy of praise if a show can be entertaining, even if that show is indeed bad, but that still doesn’t excuse all the poor writing the show seems to thrive in and the multitude of problems it has. One of the most prolific, and the one that would probably put people off from watching the show altogether is the strange tonal shifts the show has, going from goofy hijinks with an old man attempting to fly, to the straight up murdering of young children and babies. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the second episode of the show, which shifts to the point of view of Hiro, our antagonist, something the show does rather frequently during its run. At the end of this episode, Hiro walks into a random stranger’s house, and murders everyone inside, including a small child who is sitting inside a bathtub, as his father cries and pleas for his life, but Hiro finger bangs him regardless. This surprised a lot of people who were not familiar with the manga, including me, since it came so far out of left field, and the show has quite a number of these moments. The killing of children comes across as rather tasteless and a pathetic attempt to seem edgier than it actually is; it’s essentially shock factor, which reminded me a lot of Elfen Lied, albeit nowhere near as extreme as that show, which tried to hide behind a veil of being deep and mature. Inuyashiki has an air of dumb fun and seems to almost partake in making fun of how ridiculous it can be at some points in the show, to the point where it feels that the original writer had just as much fun writing this insane story as I had consuming it. Although, there were a few moments in the show in which I believe were supposed to make the viewer feel sad, or perhaps tense, regarding those moments were people are killed, but I was having just as much fun with those scenes as I would any other in the show, and it’s this strange juxtaposition of what I believe the writer intended an audience to feel, and what I felt, that makes any serious moment fall apart in the show.

The anime also has this strange tendency to randomly cut to a character who has no bearing on the overall plot at all, such as a working woman with terminal cancer or a woman on a plane visiting her family. This comes across as jarring and bizarre since the characters are completely inconsequential to the plot, and the show spends a good five to ten minutes on each respective character; it feels like needless padding just for the sake of such. While it does make sense in one or two instances, such as in episode four where we are introduced to two characters who are linked directly to the plot of that episode, which is what triggers Inuyashiki to go and infiltrate that Yakuza hideout I talked about a moment ago, most of the time it just feels worthless, and if it were cut entirely, nothing would be affected. I suppose the point of these random digressions in the narrative is to showcase what the public is thinking and to gain an insight into how Inuyashiki’s efforts are saving people’s lives, but it still feels unnecessary. The ending for the show too, while I won’t get into specific details about it, isn’t exactly the greatest in the world either, and may leave you feeling somewhat irritated as a result, although it didn’t personally annoy as much as it did with others.

The characters of Flying Grandpa Simulator are probably the weakest part of the series and feel more so like one-dimensional cardboard cut-outs than actual fleshed out people. First of all, there is Inuyashiki, our protagonist of this tale; a weak and timid old man who, despite working full time to support his family, receives no love or affection for all his hard work. All of Inuyashiki’s family are just so cruel to this poor old man, for seemingly no reason at all! While it is implied that Inuyashiki’s son resents his father because he is being bullied at school because of his poor family income, he still treats his father as if he were a stranger! Perhaps it can be excused since he is young, and being bullied or something along those lines, but his resentment towards his father just comes across more as trite and forced, to manipulate the audience into feeling sympathetic towards Inuyashiki. The show does try to explore the history behind Inuyashiki’s daughter, however, Mari, whereupon we see that as a kid Mari cared for her father dearly, following him about everywhere and crying that he would pass away soon since he looked far older than he was. However, as she grew into adolescence, Inuyashiki explains to Andou that he has not spoken with his own daughter for years now, as she seems to actively try and avoid him at all costs, and it’s never explained why she does this, nor why she holds resentment towards her father. It’s kind of implied that she is trying to prove something to him, that being that she wants to draw manga, but the show doesn’t give any clear insight into why she dislikes her father as much as she does, making her feel more like a one-dimensional twat if anything else. While in the penultimate episode of the show she does once again begin to love her father as before, there’s not really any build-up to this event, aside from one moment in which Inuyashiki, in a conversation with Mari and her mother about her future, says that she should be allowed to pursue what she wishes, that is, drawing manga, or the few scenes where she was following her father around as he cured the sick in various hospitals, but her sudden change regarding her opinion of her father comes so far out from left field and feels jarring as a result.

I expected a bulk on Inuyashiki’s character arc to be centred around him growing in confidence with this new found body and sorting out the various issues with the rest of his family, but that never really happens, nor is any justification given into why his family dislikes him as much as they do. While, certainly, Inuyashiki himself does seem to grow in his confidence, as he finally finds purpose in his life, and a reason for why he was born in the first place, as evident by his monologue in the penultimate episode in which he goes from person to person saving their lives, or healing them from their wounds, in a scene that actually had some heart to it, I wouldn’t say his character is anything substantial or even close to good. He simply represents the human side of the two newly-created cyborgs and that is it. Speaking of such, this leads me to the next character, Hiro, the antagonist of the series, and the representation of the loss of humanity when one becomes a cyborg. Hiro’s character, and the arc he embarks on (or lack thereof) centres around his loss in humanity, as he has to kill others in order to feel human once again, childishly playing a game to determine which house he will enter next to slaughter those who lay within it. Hiro is just a complete psychopath with no emotions or empathy, asking women if they enjoy One Piece while their entire family has been killed! While the show does try and convey this theme of what it truly means to be human regarding Hiro’s character, it falls flat on its face since it’s heavily implied that Hiro was a complete psychopath even before becoming a cyborg, as we learn that as a child he killed small animals and the such. This completely negates all the attempts the narrative has to present Hiro as a victim of circumstance; as a victim of losing his own humanity which acted as the justification he had for killing people, and makes all the moments in the show in which he is breaking down and crying over someone he loved feel all the more ridiculous, as I can’t feel any sympathy towards someone who kills children! His character has no chance to reflect on the misdeeds he has done in the past, nor do we really get a chance to delve into the psychological implications his murdering is having on himself, which just makes him feel more so like a psychotic murderer and nothing else. I don’t believe this is inherently a bad thing, and it works in the show’s favour regarding its shlock value as I mentioned before, but it makes Hiro’s character uninteresting. Simply put, he is the bad guy and must be stopped. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The rest of the characters in the show are either just one-dimensional assholes, such as a group of kids in the very first episode who fire fireworks at some poor homeless man, a group of thugs, who, when told they shouldn’t push in front of the line for a taxi by a middle-aged businessman, then escort said man to a park twenty minutes away just to beat the hell out of him because they’re just that EVIL, or random kids making fun of a woman with cancer just to make her all the more miserable, or they’re absolute dumbasses! Every person in the world of Inuyashiki is so damn dumb that I wonder how they even know how to properly breathe! Okay, let’s first discuss Shion, who, after the news is revealed that Hiro is a murderer, and is thus on the run from the police, allows Hiro to stay with her and her Grandmother in her house as a means of protecting and hiding him since she doesn’t believe he would do such a thing. But, this makes no sense as there is no reason for Shion to believe that he isn’t a murderer as she knows nothing about him! To her, he is just a fellow classmate, and the only interaction that she has ever had with him was one case where she asked for Hiro to go out with her, confessing her feelings in the process, whereupon he said, “Thanks” and walked away. There is nothing to suggest otherwise that he is not the killer, and it always annoyed me how naïve she was in letting, essentially what is a stranger, inside her home! Her character, as well as that of her Grandma, are used mainly as a means for Hiro to learn to love people once again, and giving him some kind of reason and drive to fight to protect them, but it’s handled poorly.

But, compared to the entire Japanese police force, Shion is a goddamn mensa student. The police force, for whatever reason, are incapable of tracking down one single person, and it’s not like Hiro stays inside Shion’s place all the time either. He comes and goes rather frequently, and, in one instance, leaves just to murder some reporters before flying back! With all this travelling, and considering that he is one of the most wanted men in the area, why did it take so long for the police to hunt him down? Even more so when there are hundreds of goddam surveillance cameras all over the place too; surely, they must have been able to catch him on camera or something? Additionally, when Hiro begins his crusade to murder every person in Japan, he takes to the buildings and kills 100 people there and then, before issuing a warning to the rest of Japan that the following day he will kill 1,000. However, despite this massive threat, and proving that he has the means to be able to pull it off, nobody seems to even care! The very next day, despite commenting that there are fewer people out, most people are still working and walking about the area where all those people were murdered, but above all, most people are still using their phones! It was established in the previous attack that Hiro can kill you through a smartphone, or any other device with a screen on it, and here we have idiots walking around with their phones still! Do they actually want to die?! Also, why are the police not doing anything to find Hiro? Like, clearly, he was snipping people with his finger banging from high up on buildings, but where are the helicopter surveilling each building to try and find this guy? Even more so when we learn that he doesn’t even move from his location and just spent the night sleeping on top of the same roof he killed everyone from the day before! What are the police even doing?! One final thing I want to rant about really quick is how each woman in the show, most particularly teenage girls, refer to Hiro as being “hot” or “cool” so much so that there have been several fan groups made about him, and when one girl, during the massacre of 100 people sees Hiro appear on her phone, she blushes and acts like a dumbass instead of being fearful for her life! Why is Hiro being idolised? This is the guy who murdered babies for crying out loud! While the show does too seem to question this, as evident by a couple of police officers who are discussing this fact, this element always bugged me, and I groaned to myself whenever a girl would comment about how “hot” Hiro was.

Unfortunately, Flying Grandpa Simulator suffers from poor production values too, and while most of the character designs are fine by themselves, in motion, when the use of CGI is used, it can look pretty choppy. The CGI contrasts awkwardly with that of the traditional 2D animation, intermixing both within the same scene haphazardly, sometimes utilising CGI just for walking animation, and it’s incredibly inconsistent to bat. At best, it wasn’t too bad, and the CGI wasn’t obtrusive enough to really pull me out of the show, but at its worst, the CGI models can look hideous! Inuyashiki is far from the worst looking thing I have ever seen, but I wouldn’t say it’s particularly good either. As for most of the music in the show, it’s rather forgettable, barring one slapstick piece, that I remember above everything else since it was used bizarrely in a scene that didn’t fit the tone of the piece; a scene in which Inuyashiki has to stop several planes from crashing into the city to prevent hundreds of deaths! It feels pretty jarring and doesn’t work at all. The OP and ED tracks, however, are both excellent! The OP is perhaps one of my favourite opening tracks for any anime, and I’ve listened to it on repeat while writing this review for hours now, I can’t get enough of it. It hypes me up so much, and is so goddamn catchy that I love it! By contrast, the show’s ED takes on a much more sombre and melancholic tone, reflecting the attempted relationship between that of Hiro and Shion, and is also a wonderful piece of music in its own right.

In conclusion, Inuyashiki is a bad show; one that is bogged down with poor writing, idiotic characters and mediocre production values, but I loved every second of it! It’s pure dumb shlock on every level, with a premise that I enjoyed due to just how silly it was. But, at the same time, this makes Inuyashiki hard to recommend to people since, as I said before, your level of enjoyment with this show is dependant on whether you enjoy shlock, and if this premise is one that you may enjoy as a “so bad that it’s good title”. As it stands, however, I can’t bring myself to hate this show, despite how poor it actually is, since it brought me nothing but enjoyment, and while I am disappointed on some level with this show, as I’ve heard amazing things about the original source material, this show is certainly a better one than MAPPA’s previous effort, Bukkakegurui, a show that not only was bad but also boring! Inuyashiki, in my opinion, is the good type of bad show. The type, that despite still being indeed bad, is still able to make an entertaining show despite that. With all that said and done, and finally ending my longest review yet, I thank you for taking the time to read this and, who knows… maybe your grandpa is also a cyborg too!

Memories. They’re a wonderful thing, aren’t they? The ability to transport our minds back to simpler times of childhood; to look back and reflect on days gone by and to appreciate the various things we did years ago, whether that was experiencing our awkward first love during adolescence, an old friend whom you used to play with as a child, or just simple family gatherings whether that be for the celebration of some kind of event be it Christmas or Thanksgiving, or just gathering around to watch a movie together. But, there are also the bad memories, that I’m sure everyone has. The memories we ... would want to erase from our mind, and would do so in a heartbeat if given the opportunity to do so. Our memories of past experiences, both the good and the bad, are what shapes the person we are today, and the entire theme surrounding memories has been tackled in plenty of dystopian and cyberpunk narratives in films over the years, but the one piece of media that I have seen that tackles this idea to its fullest capabilities, in the most creative and beautiful way I might add, is Masaki Yuasa’s Kaiba! If you’re familiar with my past reviews, then you know that I’ve praised this man’s works to no end, that being The Tatami Galaxy and Ping Pong, two anime that I absolutely adore, and are some of my favourites works in the entire medium, with Kaiba being no exception to that. Kaiba is a wonderfully creative endeavour with its experimental and imaginative world, setting and characters, that not only has become one of my personal favourite anime as of late, but is a delightful reminder of why I love animation so much, and all of the endless creative potentials it can bring along with it, culminating in a work that emotionally moved me in ways that no other anime or film has been able to in a long time. It’s like if Masaki Yuasa, smoked a ton of drugs and Kaiba’s unique visuals was the product of his hallucinations. Anyway, with that all said and done, let’s dive into the mad world that is Kaiba!

Set in a world in which one’s memories can be stored in small devices known as “chips”, people can live on, even when their body has lived passed its physical limitations, or has been badly destroyed, and have their memories implanted into another host, thus living on. In addition, the inhabitants of the world of Kaiba can chose to have their memories altered in several ways, adding new happier memories, or removing those memories that are too painful to bear. However, this comes at a catch, as only the rich and powerful can afford to transplant their memories into new hosts, with them ruling from the top, whilst the rest of the world is left at the bottom, a world without authority, in which the illegal alteration and trafficking of bodies and memories runs rampant. In this world, our main protagonist, Kaiba, travels throughout the land, with no memories of his own, as he meets new people and encounters new planets, eventually gaining his memory once again.

Kaiba’s narrative can essentially be split into two halves; the first of which deals with Kaiba in a more episodic narrative structure as he travels from planet to planet, meeting new people, learning about their experiences and the world, with the second half becoming more plot-heavy involving a resistance group fighting against the tyrannical rule of Warp, the ruler of this world. Now, it is not my proactive to insinuate that you have to wait several episodes for Kaiba to “get good” or more plot-heavy. I’d argue in fact that the first half of the series is more emotionally heavy in many ways than that of the second half, with each episode being its own self-contained emotional rollercoaster, all of which were able to resonate with me on some kind of emotional level. Every character Kaiba meets in the first half of the series, despite their simplistic characters as a whole, are still able to convey a wonderful story in their own respective episodes, packing an insane emotional punch at the climax for each one. Every episode explores something different about the world, and adds on to our understanding of said world, and the sheer number of themes and ideas that is pumped into the show, all the while allowing each respective theme time to develop and breath, is staggering and a true testament of the writing of the series. From episodes in which one has to come to the reality of losing a loved one, and having to come to grips with that loss, to a deeper look and understanding of sexuality and gender, and what this truly means when we see both Kaiba, whom now has moved his memories into a woman’s body, and another character, whom he meets, who has done the opposite, to how memories are stored in this world, and how they’re managed. Each episode in the first half the anime is rich in themes and ideas, and keeps building on our understanding of this world, and the way in which it operates, all of which I found to be deeply interesting! It deals with the loss of loved ones, the valuable nature of memories, the cost at which humans are willing to prolong their own, and their loved ones lives, and manages to tell captivating stories around these ideas, with characters that have boat loads of heart. While one may argue that I am being manipulated into feeling something for these characters, through the use of an emotional backstory, something that I myself have complained about in other shows before, but the characters in Kaiba never came across to me as if they were designed as a means of manipulating my emotions. Each one is grounded in their stories, and the fantastic writing and character interactions, as well as their clearly defined personalities, makes them feel incredibly human and real to me, so that when any unfortunate event does occur, I feel the emotional weight the show is trying to convey, and it’s the main reason why I can get so invested in the world and the characters, so much so, that some episodes even brought me to tears! (Real men shed tears when watching cartoons, okay!)

In addition to all this, the world and setting of Kaiba, and all of the locales he travels to within the first half the story, are incredibly memorable, all of whom take on such vivid personalities in my mind. Not only is this incredibly effective at worldbuilding, but the extremely well-designed locals also help me become more invested in the show I am watching, and this also extends to the creative technology the show is filled with too, from belts that can grow legs to help move past terrain quickly, to a strange looking gun that is capable of melting bodies with one simple blast! In addition, during these episodes, Kaiba will often use a similar sort of gun, in order to gain access into their memories and their subconscious. It’s used as a creative way to inform the audience about the psychological implications each character is facing, while laying down the ground work in order to give the audience subtle little hints into Kaiba’s past, making the process of learning about his complete backstory in the second half, feel that more gratifying and satisfying. Each creative element in the show, from the setting to the technology, is used to enhance the narrative, and its clear how much love and thought was placed into making the world as wonderfully unique as possible.

The narrative is also just incredibly satisfying to watch play out, with constant forks in the road and plot twists to keep things interesting, and to constantly keep me second guessing. It’s that feeling of satisfaction you get when watching a mystery play out, and seeing all the pieces come together in your mind that you say to yourself, “ah!” as a cartoony light-bulb pings above your head. Kaiba in a way, is a mystery narrative, with Kaiba attempting to learn about the true nature of where he came from, and who he is, which comes to fruition in the second half, where the constant questions we were posed with in the beginning get answered. This mainly functions as a means to get the audience invested in Kaiba as a character, and all of the constituent characters in his past too, but I believe that by starting Kaiba with no knowledge of the world or how it works was greatly beneficial to the overall story. Much like how Kaiba knows nothing of this world, neither do we as an audience member, and we experience the world through his eyes. Everything Kaiba experiences and feels, so do we, and not only does this make the emotional moments all the more hard hitting, but it helps us get invested in this character and feel as if we’re really embarking on a journey with him. Information about the world therefore, is offered through the visuals and what Kaiba sees, allowing the audience to try and piece things together, and I believe this is particularly effective in the first episode in which Kaiba watches from afar, the activities of the people of this world. Through their actions, and behaviours, we understand a lot about this world, and the circumstances of what it is like to live there, from seeing a couple having a fight, whereupon the woman walks out proclaiming she has had enough of this world (which sounds a lot like Tommy Wiseau now that I think about it; I swear that was not my intention when I wrote the first draft for this), to a group of people rummaging through memory chips, and selling those they do not want anymore, to an old man who tells Kaiba he has seen the entire world, for it to be known to us, by his wife pulling him away, that none of that has happened, and that he has gone Senile for living in this place for so long. All of these little things help to paint a picture of the world at large without having to resort to expository dialogue, and this may seem like a pedantic thing to praise, but its small little things like this that I notice and end up appreciating. It’s going that little extra mile, is what makes a show truly special to me, and Kaiba is full of this!

Kaiba’s characters are also great, and, as I’ve already expressed greatly in regards to the people whom we meet in the first half of the series, all of whom, despite being rather simplistic, still are able to resonate with me emotionally. One of the better examples, is Vanilla, a character that falls in love with our protagonist Kaiba, after Kaiba transfers his memories into the body of a girl in the third episode. While Vanilla is most regulated to be the bumbling idiot, with a gut the size of a house, and is a complete asshole, this fat bastard did actually manage to make me cry in the seventh episode of the show. He genuinely cares for that of Kaiba (now in the body of a girl called Chroniko) and he even remarks that he is not able to save his mother anymore, as he had been holding her memory chip this entire time, suggesting a more compassionate and caring person then we were lead to believe at first. Kaiba’s other characters, particularly those whom we meet in the second half in the resistance group against the rich high above are hard to talk about without going into spoiler territory, and I don’t want to rob any of those who haven’t seen Kaiba yet of their charm and overall impact in the story. What I will say, is that the relationships between some of the characters, namely that of Kaiba’s and Neiro’s, fills natural and organic, as if they’re really two people who genuinely care deeply about one another, making the events that happen between them, all the more emotional to me, since I was deeply invested in both of them as actual people.

As previously mentioned, the world of Kaiba is amazing, and that also extends to the animation as well. Kaiba utilises so many different animation techniques, and is constantly changing its style during much of its runtime; it’s a visual orgasm! It’s also a show that nails the more cartoony-esque art style, with plenty of stretch-and-pull for that cartoony sort of aesthetic and vibe, with some of the most memorable and interesting character designs I’ve seen from an anime as well. The more childlike imagery and designs, also contrasts well with the more adult-oriented themes, mainly of the cruelty of the world, a tone and juxtaposition I liked a lot in the show. There are even plenty of times when the animation can downright be stunning, such as in the case where Vanilla and Choroniko are represented as two brightly lit neon coloured figures in the night sky. The entire show is dripping with personality and it’s clear how much passion and work was put into the animation. One little feature I also loved was the scale of the world in regards to the size of the characters, and helped to insinuate the difference in power and class between that of the rich and that of the poor. The music, likewise, is also wonderful. The opening track, Never, is nothing short of what I would call beautiful, with its soft, almost melancholic at times, lyrics and singing. Other tracks I adored were Planets, Initialise me and Twinkling Photon. Every track in Kaiba is wonderfully composed and each track I can recite in my head with no problem; they’re that memorable to me, setting the atmosphere for each locale, bringing each one to life! (Also, is it just me, or does the track “Chase to it!” sound like something that would fit right at home in the original Terminator movie?)

In conclusion, if it weren’t evident by now, I love Kaiba! While I dislike using this term, for any piece of media to describe anything, considering how incredibly subjective it is, I feel as if it is necessary for this show, and that is that Kaiba is a beautiful work of art. Through it’s amazing world, characters, charm and personality, Kaiba was a series I was able to get deeply invested in whilst watching, and I loved every second of this show. It succeeds in every area, telling a rich and powerfully emotional story, and while some of the characters Kaiba meets in the first half can be rather simplistic, I believe that the writing is strong enough to salvage such characters, grounding them in a sense of believability and realism. Kaiba checks off all of my boxes for what I look for in anime, and just proves even more why Masaki Yuasa is one of my favourite auteurs in this medium, with his “big three” (that including the show I’m currently talking about, Tatami and Ping Pong) being some of the best works in anime, in my humblest opinion, and I’d recommend checking out all three if you have not done so already. Kaiba is a show that I won’t be forgetting any time soon…

Under the crimson red glow of the sun, the girls jump into action. At the prompt of their premeditated quote varying from the power of friendship to that of installing justice, hurled at their enemy, the girls begin to transform (for you see, it is entirely impossible for a girl to do so without following this procedure, or, at the very least, posing brazenly in wake of their opponent that lays before them). Exploding into a barrage of colours and lights, while simultaneously losing their clothing for a brief period of time (but worry not, as, you see, those mysterious lights that accompany a magical ... transformation will cover up all the bits that would normally place you on the FBI watchlist if they were absent). As the transformation sequence is complete (a process that may take upwards of sometimes two minutes; no idea why the enemy just doesn’t attack them during that time since they are left completely vulnerable, but whatever), the girls take their stance, posing passionately at their enemy before them. The magical girls are ready to fight…

When the general public thinks of anime, several connotations and images are typically brought up, ranging from the battle shounen, in which two guys beat the hell out of each other with massive muscles, typical ecchi oriented anime in which girls are drawn to have ridiculously small skirts and extremely large breasts, and the most prolific, at least from what I’ve gathered from asking family and colleagues at university about this very same subject, are that of the magical girls! Even if you’re not particular that versed in magical girl oriented anime, as am I (for I’ve only seen the Sailor Moon series, Lyrical Nanoha and the show of discussion today) you’re at the very least probably familiar with the genre’s typical troupes and conventions, as the magical girl genre is perhaps the most parodied within the medium with countless examples out there, from Puruin in Welcome to the N.H.K to Stardust Witch Mereru in Oreiemo. As a result, there are several things people tend to associate with the magical girl genre, as I tried to replicate in my opening paragraph (and probably failed at mind, you) but there exists several deconstructions out there, going against the norm of what is to be expected from this typically more so child-friendly content, with the most popular example of these shows being Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica from 2011, becoming one of the most successful and popular anime ever created! But, alas, with all that said and done, let’s make a wish with some random cat who clearly looks like he will screw us over at some point, transform into a magical girl and dive into the world of Madoka!

Madoka, our main protagonist for this tale, along with her best friend, Sayaka, are regular middle-schoolers, until, that is, they encounter an adorable cat, by the name of Kyuubey, whom is capable of speech and through this, offers to produce a contract between each of the girls, resulting in them becoming magical girls (as Kyuubey needs them to fight off against these monster-like things called Witches) in exchange for one of their wishes to be granted. As the series goes along, more magical girls are introduced into the story, as the characters suffer through disappear and hardships, and, to cap it off, a lot of death as well! Madoka’s tone is one that takes a much more depressing and darker route than what is to be expected of these kinds of shows, and is consistent in its setting and overarching themes to make the world in which these characters inhabit, all the more bleak and miserable, with the constant threat of death always lurking around the corner, thus creating a sense of narrative stakes and tension since it is established early on in episode three, that characters do, and ARE going to die! This lends itself naturally in creating scenes with much more emotional weight, and the darker setting the narrative presents never really felt too forced, or what I’d usually classify as “edgy”. The show never tries to push its darker themes or ideas too hard to the point where it becomes silly, and instead opts for a mature and realistic tone that I feel was implemented in a serious and thought-out manner. The pacing for the show as well was also pretty consistent, moving the narrative along at a well enough pace to keep story beats moving. One thing that I actually really liked about the pacing, was how long it actually took for the girls to make up their minds in regards to their wish and what the dangers of accepting the contract may entail. I originally believed they’d make their wish at the first moment they could get within the first episode, but, instead, they ponder at great lengths, weighing it up in their mind, and as such, helped to ground the characters in a greater sense of believability, and made them seem more mature and rationale. Although, one thing I never really understood, is that why did none of the girls ever wish for more wishes? It was never established in the show that you are not allowed to do so, so why did none of the girls ever attempt this, especially since the wish is being promised by a cat who can talk! Maybe having more wishes could act as a means of reverting back, or changing something that may have gone wrong with your initial wish. Of course, this piece of criticism is one that is pretty pedantic, nor does it really effect my overall feelings towards the show, but I felt the need to point it out anyway.

The show also has enough plot twists and forks in the road to keep things interesting, and Kyuubey’s sudden reveal of new information to the girls that changes up the entire dynamic of how we think of the magical girls in general are easily some of my favourite moments in the show. Kyuubey is one sick pussy! As part of a race that always thinks cold and calculated, lacking any kind of emotion or sympathy for the magical girls he has created (whom he sees more so as pawns if anything else), Kyuubey upholds vital information in regards to the true nature of the magical girls and these sudden twists were one of the few incentives I had to keep watching, but I also feel that this makes Madoka a one trick pony, at least for me anyway. Kyuubey’s plot twists were one of only two things in the entire show to actually keep be invested in what I was watching and while I believe the show can be rather entertaining the first time through since one doesn’t know of the plot twists in the narrative, it leaves me with little desire to ever go back and watch again, which I suppose is fine, but I also value re-watchabiltiy in a title, and I feel that the other elements in Madoka are not strong enough to warrant another watch, and I don’t feel like I could get anything out of a second watch. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and Madoka achieves what it sets out to do in regards to its narrative fairly well, but, again, this is quite a personal nit-pick for me, and perhaps quite a pedantic complaint none-the-less.

However, a less pedantic piece of criticism stems from the use of exposition in the show, and how overwhelming it can be at times. There are many times in the narrative in which Kyuubey dishes out exposition to the magical girls, about the origin of them or of himself, which, in small increments, can be interesting in learning more about the world, but these exposition scenes can go on for quite a while, and since so much information is being thrown at us in such a short amount of time, my brain eventually shuts off and I lose interest, especially since the exposition isn’t delivered in the most exciting way either. Now, one may argue that the exposition dumps in Madoka are justified since they given by Kyuubey, a creature who’s very existence is one that is very calculated and mechanical-like, so it makes sense for him to deliver information in such a way, and that is something I can totally understand, but it still doesn’t eliminate the problems I just mentioned, and if the exposition was spaced evenly over the course of the show, it would have helped to alleviate these problems for me greatly.

Some moments in the narrative can feel kind of trite and forced too, and depending on your tolerance levels, can put a damper on the entire experience. One such example of forced drama implementation is in regards to Sayaka, and the boy whom she loves, being taken away by one of her best friends. This love triangle sort of thing is not inherently a bad element on its own, but my main complaint is that this idea is never really fleshed out, nor is there any pay-off in regards to it either, and it felt like it was only there just to make Sayaka suffer all the more, and thus can come across as rather unnecessary in my eyes. There were also a few moments of poor comedy as well, in regards to the girl’s homeroom teacher who constantly complains and rants about the lack of dick in her life, and a friend of Sayaka’s and Madoka’s who believes they have entered into a homosexual relationship with each other and runs away, screaming! Thankfully, there were few scenes of this nature, but they often came across as jarring and mainly unfunny while watching the show. There was also a certain level of disconnect I got when watching the series since the girls sometimes acted in such a way to bring me out of my immersion, such as in the case where in the first episode, where, Madoka, hearing the cries of help from Kyuubey whom she hasn’t met yet, runs out of a music store and into some kind of underground area, and this always came across as strange to me as we just see her pop up there with no interconnecting dots showing us how she even got there in the first place since the latter locale seems like it would take a significant amount of time to reach. In addition, I often found it kind of strange how Madoka and Sayaka were pretty calm about seeing one of their upperclassman as a magical girl along with a talking cat, and instead of freaking out or just simply acting surprised like regular people, they decide to drink tea and eat cake, as if this event is one that happens every day! Again, this may seem like something small and insignificant to talk about, but its moments like these that drag me out of the experience.

Now, despite a few problems here and there in regards to the narrative, it’s overall pretty solid and does its job well for what It was trying to achieve; it reaches for the stars and tries to be as ambitious as it can in many areas and just falls short (especially with an ending that feels very much like The End of Evangelion of all things! Thankfully there is no scene where Madoka masturbates over someone else’s body!) However, my main problems with Madoka lies in its cast and how little I care for anyone, which is a massive problem considering that the entirety of the narrative stakes and threat of death present is reliant on how you can grow attached to these characters, and on that end, I believe Madoka does a poor job at investing me in these girls.

Madoka, as previously mentioned, is our main protagonist for this tale, and is perhaps one of the most boring main characters I’ve seen in a while! She plays the typical cute girl, mainly characterised by her extreme amount of kindness and love for the people around her. Madoka’s character feels more so like a small puppy in regards to the way she was written. She is completely innocent, and is represented more so a victim in the show, with an insane love for everyone, including her family in which the first episode hammers down our throats that she has a happy life filled with love! As such, whenever she does get hurt or abused in the show, it acts as an emotional trigger to make us feel more sympathetic towards her since she is just so innocent and happy! It’s like watching a puppy getting kicked or something, and that is basically Madoka’s character in a nutshell. This doesn’t make her character bad just incredibly dull, and she is easily the least interesting character in the entire show, spending much of her time crying in the narrative. While there is a great scene between her and her badass mother in the final episode, in which we see how strong Madoka’s resolve is to finally put an end to the suffering of the magical girls, her character remains mostly pretty stagnant and uninteresting for the most part, which is even more painful since she is the main character of the entire series! Madoka more so takes a back seat to the rest of the cast and aside from the final episode, contributes very little to the story. I suppose her function in the show is to act as the straight man (I mean woman, don’t want those damn SJWs attacking me for assuming genders!) to the rest of the cast, and thus helping us to relate more to her as a person and to attach ourselves onto her, but I honestly forgot her character even exists half the time.

Mami is somewhat more interesting than the aforementioned Madoka but still wrought with problems. She is a senior to that of Sayaka and Madoka and acts as their mentor of sorts during the early parts of the series, and while we do learn something about her character in episode three, whereupon Madoka tells Mami she will always stick with her which brings Mami nothing but joy, and was surprisingly heart-warming to watch, her character doesn’t really go anywhere from that point onward. There are a few subtle hints in the first two episodes that imply some more things about her as a person, but its nothing of any real substantial merit, nor can one truly evaluate her intentions in the early parts of the show as she, let's say, is "evicted" early on.

Now, let’s talk about Sayaka, whom is the only character I was actually invested in, aside from Akemi anyway, and her spiral into self-destruction is easily the most interesting aspect of the series for me. Not only that, but her wish actually has some kind of emotional drama, as she uses said wish in order to make her friend, whom has been suffering inside a hospital, good as new once again. As such, Sayaka’s character feels far more grounded than that of the previous two I just talked about, and her downwards spiral into destruction is given enough room to breath and be fully fleshed out, making it all the more hard hitting and impactful. Sayaka’s character made me feel something other than just indifference, and her character is more so indicative of the darker side of magical girls in the series, and the show does a good job at representing this idea. She even embarks on an idealistic battle with another magical girl whom gets introduced in episode five, a girl by the name of Kyouka, and even though this battle of ideologies in regards to their duties as magical girls is as basic as they come, at the very least there is some kind of character conflict going on, and some level of introspection into what it means to be a magical girl to these characters. Kyouka and Sayaka, at first, seemingly dislike each other due to their differences, but the show tries to make them grow into friends over the course of the series, something I could never get behind because it just ended up feeling kind of superficial and it never feels as if the two characters grow to like each other on screen, it’s merely just implied. Kyouka’s character as a whole is just fine, and while we do learn something about her character, and the reasons why she acts the way she does (even if I would argue that her backstory is one in which tries to use emotional manipulation and shock to make us feel for her) at the very least we do learn something about her character, even if her relevancy in the entire narrative is rather minimal, and acts as a sort of mirror to Sayaka’s character, as Kyouka too wished for something that benefitted another, which backfired badly, just as what is happening to Sayaka. It’s nothing amazing, but these two characters do a decent job at making me at least somewhat care for what is going on.

And finally that leaves Akemi, whom I can’t speak too much about since I wish to avoid spoiler as much as possible in this review. Akemi is first presented as being this mysterious figure who lurks in the shadows, with a major hard-on for Madoka, but in episode ten of the show, a whole episode is devoted into fleshing out her character and the reason why her hard-on for Madoka is as big as it is! It’s actually a well-done emotional episode that adds a lot on to her character, and does a good job in explaining why Akemi is as persistent as she is, and I also get a kick out of her using machine guns and grenades when fighting – it cracks me up every time!

In terms of animation and art design, Madoka is great. As expected of both Shaft, and the directing of Akiyuki Shinbou, Madoka’s visuals are unique and extremely experimental, adopting for insane amounts of colour and bizarrely interesting Witch designs, utilising many different animation techniques to make them feel different, but also horrifying in their design. The fact that the Witches are designed and animated differently than that of everything else in the show, gives them this uncanny and monstrous demeanour. The same thing can be said for the character designs too, and how each one of them feels so memorable too me, especially that of Mami’s and Sayaka’s magical girl costume, which I adore. The fight scenes were also a spectacle to behold as well, with great use of movement and fighting choreography, especially during the first fight between Kyouka and Sayaka in episode 5. The whole show is dripping with different animation ideas and art; it’s a feast for the eyes and I love it! The same thing can be said for the music as well, with the opening of the show winning the award for perhaps most misleading opening ever conceived, and one little thing I could admire about the show is how the ending theme changes in episode three, from the sweet and calming melodies prior, to the track called “Magia” in accordance to the shift in tone of the show; a track that’s full of despair! I also adore “Sis Puella Magica” with its orchestral arrangements and mystical tone, that fits wonderfully into the show. Everything about Madoka in these two departments is done to great effect, making the show’s music and animation extremely memorable.

In conclusion, Madoka Magica is a fine show. With what it sets out to do and what it accomplishs, I feel it does a good job, and there are many things to praise about the show, from the art and the music, to some of the decently developed characters the narrative presents us with, but ultimately, the biggest drawback is the lack of characters I feel a damn for. Out of the entire cast, the only character I slightly cared about whom may have lived or died was Sayaka and thus, most of the narrative stakes the show presents me with falls flat since I was not invested in any of them. It’s one thing to have narrative stakes and death in the show, but another to have characters whom we care about having those stakes afflicted upon. However, despite all that, Madoka at least remained somewhat fun for much of its duration and at the very least, I’d say it warrants a watch on that end. Just remember, that if a cat offers to forge a contract with you in exchange for a wish, either be smart and wish for more wishes or run the hell away!

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably taken note of the rising popularity and plethora of idol related anime in the last few years. Any time I dare venture out to any anime convention that just so happens to be taking place within my proximity, I’m bound to be met with an onslaught of idol related merchandise from body pillows, those strange mouse pads that also have a pair of breasts on them, figures, CDs and even several cosplayers too – it’s inescapable! However, it’s not necessarily hard to understand why such shows garner such popularity, as they seem to be almost designed ... to be as marketable as possible. They feature an ensemble of cute girls, of various body types, whether that be the small loli (remember to tell the FBI that she is just a drawing when they come knocking down your door!) all the way to the plump and voluptuous, all the while having distinct personality types to appeal to every demographic of anime fan imaginable. Combine that with the fact that the girls are often made to wear skimpy and risqué outfits with incredibly small miniskirts, and sing generic, catchy pop-songs with their cute mannerisms, makes for a cultural phenomenon! Out of all the various idol anime out there, easily the most prolific and popular is Love Live; a franchise so popular over in Japan that in 2016 it was the highest grossing media franchise of that year, passing One Piece! (Damn, that’s a lot of scantily clad body pillows sold!) Over the last few days, me and a couple of other reviewer friendos decided to watch the entire series (for the most part anyway) all together, and while it was a very enjoyable experience to do so, even if we spent most of the time making fun of the show, I seem to have been left with rather severe PTSD, so much so, that every time I go to close my eyes to sleep at night, visions of each of the girls as they smile and dance appear in front of me. At first, it’s tranquil; calm, but as time moves along the girls become fierce and terrifying, laughing manically as I am trapped in this existential horrific nightmare in which even my own screams of pain and anguish cannot awaken me from the horrors that lay before me. I desperately want to run, to run from the visions, but I’m stuck; frozen in place as the idols slowly consume me and every fibre of my being…

Anywho, with that all said and done, and instead of contacting my closest therapist immediately, let’s form our own idol group, dress up in some revealing clothes whilst dancing and singing on stage, and dive into the world of Love Live!

Otonokizaku High School is on the verge of closing, due a lack of students wanting to partake in studies there, and is set to shut down after the current first year students graduate. As such, our main protagonist, Honoka, in an attempt to prevent the school closing down at all costs, decides to create an idol group, as a way to attract new students into attending said school, thus preventing it from its inevitable closure. The rest of the series sees Honoka recruit new members, as they all practice harder and harder to become great idols, intermixed with a touch of drama here and there. At the very least, Love Live’s set-up allows for some semblance of narrative stakes as the failure of the newly formed idol group, by the name of Muse, will bring an end to the school (even though we know as an audience from the get-go that the characters will succeed since there is nothing presented in the narrative that would suggest otherwise) and it also provides some kind of motivation and drive for the characters in the story. My main criticism of Love Live’s narrative is just how incredibly predictable and safe the entire journey is. It’s the most standard narrative structure one could possibly expect to see, and has been done so many times in so many other shows, that I can guarantee you that you would be able to identify each story beat and event that transpires in the show just by simply reading the plot synopsis presented on MAL. It genuinely feels like that whoever was writing the show, was simply ticking boxes off of things to include within the show. A hyper and energetic girl with good intentions who ropes everyone in and inspires them to try their hardest? TICK. An obligatory beach episode which is used for the purpose of training and seeing each of the girls in skimpy bathing suits? TICK. Drama that is introduced late into the narrative and is used more so to try and make the show seem more emotional than it is, whilst trying to manipulate the audience into feeling something for the characters, which will be ultimately resolved by the final episode leaving in a happy conclusion? TICK. As such, the narrative of Love Live feels tiering; a chore to sit through, as in my head I could easily map out the series and each one of the events that would transpire. It feels less like a journey you embark on with these girls as they try to save their school, and more so like a lecture in which you already know all the content the lecturer is going to go over, and you’re just listing them off in your head, waiting for them to get to the next point.

As I mentioned before, the show does have its share of drama, which I imagine was implemented into the narrative as a way to spice things up; to try and make things interesting, but it just comes across more so forced and trite than anything else, and the juxtaposition between the light-hearted hijinks an episode before, and scenes where everyone is yelling and fighting comes across as so damn jarring! Again, just like the complaints I talked about above about the narrative’s predictability, the drama in the show is foreshadowed in such a way that ignores the very notion of subtlety. After both Umi, Honoka’s friend, and Honoka’s little sister warn her not to overwork herself as she may fall ill, she then decides to go running in the pouring rain like an idiot, develops a fever, and ends up ruining everybody’s hard work as a result. The show expects me to feel sorry for Honoka, since the very reason as to why she developed this fever was because she was working so hard to prevent the school from closing down, but I simply can’t, as the character itself isn’t strong enough to illicit such emotions in me, especially since it’s so typical of these types of shows to go down this route that it leaves no impact on me! There’s even a scene in the show where the drama reaches a point in which Honoka gets bitch-slapped into the Shadow Realm after proclaiming her leaving of the group, whereupon I promptly laughed my ass off for a good ten minutes because I’m an immature dumbass. But, this disconnect from what the show expects me to feel, that is, emotional and probably shock from seeing one of the girls resort to physical violence towards her friend, against what I felt, that is, laughter at a moment where it obviously wasn’t warranted is the reason why I feel nothing for any of the drama they try and throw in the show, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that the characters are simply not strong enough to carry it. There’s just nothing really to sink your teeth into in this show in regards to the story, and, despite what some people may tell you, such as the entire show being inside one of the character’s heads (which would actually be kind of interesting as an idea now that I think about it) there’s nothing really of any substantial merit here (then again, the person who told me that has Eli as his favourite girl, so therefore his claim lacks any weight automatically).

Now, I’ve complained a fair bit about the narrative and why it feels so tiresome and dull, but this mode of storytelling is not necessarily a game breaker for me. I can forgive an anime in regards to its lack of overall narrative, as long as the characters, and the interactions between them are good; it’s the main reason why I liked Azumanga Diaoh after all. In that show, the narrative is simply about a bunch of high school girls whom progress through three years of high school, with them eventually graduating at the end, but the characters are all very likeable, to the point in which we grow attached to them as actual people, and the comedy in the show is strong enough to carry the entire experience. For me, the most important thing in most cases are the characters, since they hold the key to whether or not I care about anything the show prevents me with, and I think if the characters in Love Live were stronger, I could be more forgiving of the narrative and the whole show at large.

Much like in regards to the story, it felt like the writer constructed the characters in the most safe and predictable way possible, with two exceptions however. I’ve already somewhat alluded to Honoka’s character earlier in the review; she is the girl whom has the most energy, and acts as the driving force for pushing the story forward with her optimistic outlook to any situation and is the one that gathers everyone together, acting as the inspiration for the group through her hardworking attitude. She is not necessarily a bad character, just one that is not that interesting as a whole. As previously mentioned, she does run into some drama near the end of the series, but the small amount of development she embarks on, and character arc in general is still nothing remarkable as a whole. Umi, along with Kotori are best friends with Honoka and we see little snips of their past as children, which gives their characters a little more depth, although, and, again, is nothing to remarkable. They more so play the voice of rationality to Honoka in the series, with Umi being the shy and reserved type, but ultimately firm when the time calls, and Kotori…just being an airhead I guess. Whilst in the latter part of the series, she has to make a decision regarding her future, that being whether to move to America to study costume design, or to stay being a worthless school idol, which then cultivates in some more of that lovely, forced D R A M A that I adore, it feels inconsequential in the long run, since it’s pretty obvious that she will decide to stay with her friends since shows like this have practically programmed me to think as such.

Hanoyo and Rin add very little to the overall show and to be perfectly honest, I kind of forgot they were even there half the time. Rin joins the idol group just because Hanoyo does, and while Hanoyo’s reasoning for joining, that being because she wants to grow in confidence is a fine motivation to have, it’s barely developed or explored. Maki serves somewhat more to the overall story, as she can actually play the piano and sing rather well, which is then used for writing music for the group, and her Tsundere-esque personality can actually be kind of cute sometimes. Eli has somewhat more of a backstory than the rest of the girls, being that she was actually a ballet dancer in the past, which is then used to help the rest of the group and Noizoimi is one of the better characters, being as she has the most voluptuous body, and sexually harasses the other girls by grabbing their tits (if that’s not a well crafted character, then I don’t know what is). Nozomi takes on more of a mother role in the series, often dishing out random nuggets of wisdom to the girls whenever they’re in need of some, and that’s it as a whole. The characters in Love Live, for the most part, are extremely weak and cookie-cutter, so much so, that I’m struggling to even find anything to say about them. The only fun character in the entire show is Nico, and, yes, I understand at this point she is one giant meme, but she is the only character who has some semblance of a personality. She is an aspiring wannabe ideal, constantly switching between her idol persona, that being the adorably sweet Nico, with the catchphrase “NICO NICO NII!!” which me and everyone repeated so much during our watch that my PTSD is triggered every time I hear it. She’s like an antagonist in a way; the various things she does to try and prove that she is better than everyone else at various idol related things always blows up in her face, leading to some of the more entertaining aspects of the show (I also like to imagine to myself that Nico is a trap; a thought that brings me nothing but happiness).

The characters and their interactions are just fine as a whole. There are times when the chemistry between them does work, most strongest being during the beach episode I made fun of earlier since the girls are just messing around with each other (and Nico gets hit right in the goddam face with a beach ball so that’s always a plus), leading into some genuinely charming and funny scenes, particularly thanks to Nico as I just mentioned before, but the show really needed a stronger cast of characters to really pull itself together. That’s not to say that the entire show is without merit however. There were some scenes that I felt were kinda alright, such as in episode three, when, after the girls put all their efforts into practising for their first idol performance, and when the curtains go up to perform, they are greeted with only a few people rather than the full room like they were expecting, but despite that, they perform on anyway. Some of the facial expressions can also be pretty funny and charming too, such as when we’re first introduced to Maki after she finishes playing her song, she looks over at the door to see Honoka clapping profusely, all the while being cross-eyed; it’s a shot that never fails to make me laugh just because of how stupid it looks. As a whole, Love Live is just really bland and nothing of that much interest really happens as a whole.

In terms of animation, it’s overall pretty solid, with each girl appearing to be pretty damn cute with rather thicc thighs. I only mention the latter part due to the fact that the show has a tendency to have low camera angles, perfectly emphasising their thighs and butts (hey, I’m not a pervert for noticing this stuff, it’s the SHOWS fault for storyboarding it as such!) It does utilise CGI however during the performances scenes, which, to be perfectly fair, actually looks pretty good for CGI standards, but my main criticism is that they cut constantly between the CGI models and close-ups of with the traditional animation, and as a result, it ends up coming across as jarring; breaking the flow of both the dancing and my immersion. The music, as expected of a show all about music does the job, although I wouldn’t call it anything great as a whole. It’s generic, catchy pop that will forget about by the time the next generic, catchy pop songs comes on. Probably the only track that I really liked was Start; dash, mainly because some twat kept singing it during the Discord chat – what a strange guy that was…

In conclusion Love Live is just an incredibly bland show, and, despite a few moments here and there, is mostly devoid of anything of any substantial merit. I admit that I did enjoy myself whilst watching the show, but much of that enjoyment was indicative of watching it with everyone else. I’m sure if I watched this by myself, as I did with the last three episodes, I would be bored to tears! And this is coming from someone who typically enjoys cute girls doing cute things types of shows, but Love Live’s characters are just simply not strong enough, nor are their character interactions fun enough to hold the entire show together and becomes more so a chore to watch than anything else. I think now would be a good time to clarify that I do not begrudge anyone for enjoying this show, as the tone of this review may suggest otherwise, and, if anything, I’m envious. Envious of the fact that you could find so much enjoyment in something I found to be bland at best; envious that you can genuinely get excited whenever the girls begin any of their performances. As it stands, Love Live’s popularity confuses me, and I understand that I am critiquing an entire franchise with this statement consisting of a second season (which I’ve been told is much better than this) a movie, as well a spin-off series that also has its own sequel, but as an opening to the entire franchise, it’s incredibly weak, and doesn’t inspire much desire to go off and watch the rest of the series. At best Love Live is incredibly mediocre; at worst it gave me aids.

Nearing the end of the Summer of 2014, SAO’s Gun Gale Online Arc finally draws to a close. Dumbfounded and genuinely surprised at the story arc’s terrible writing, characters and overall aesthetic, I sat back and assessed Sword Art Online up to that point in time, and concluded there and then, that, for me at least anyway, the Gun Gale Online arc was the absolute lowest point the series had fallen, and, surely, for how incredibly awful that arc was, there would be nothing else that could possibly be as bad, and as I witnessed the next two story arcs the series had to offer, ... was content in the assumption I had made. As such, when the announcement for the latest addition to the series arrived, a film of the Ordinal Scale arc, while not expecting too much, was, at the very least, hoping for something that was entertaining. For me, something that is "bad" is not inherently a game breaker as long as I can derive some kind of entertainment from the piece I am consuming (it's the same reason I kept watching Hand Shakers after all!). However, when I finally got a chance to see the film at my local cinema I was immediately transported back to Gun Gale Online, and all of the problems I had with that arc. It was like a World War II survivor being shown film of the war again. It was horrifying. To put it bluntly, Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale, is awful, and may be the most illogical and poorly written entry in the series thus far, and that’s saying a lot when taking into account the franchise's now seemingly unanimous hatred from much of the community! There are so many things that this movie does wrong, and of course, keeping in style with previous entries into the series, is essentially the living embodiment of wasted potential, and I think that's what annoys me most about SAO in general. The series has interesting ideas from time to time, and in some instances, such as in Gun Gale, when given the opportunity to develop Kirito, it's unfortunately glossed over. And that's the impression I get of Ordinal Scale. It feels like everything that could have been interesting got pushed to the side.

To properly discuss the various elements at fault in the narrative, a quick summary of its contents:

A new game in the world of Sword Art Online has gained insane popularity, using a cutting-edge piece of technology called the "Augma". Wearing such a device creates a virtual world out of the real one, in which players can interact with, as well as play games within this world in order to earn in-game currency. This currency can then be used to, for example, purchase cakes at local shops or be used to earn discounts on over goods (be it clothing, or gadgets), which results in the game becoming insanely popular. However, the bosses from Sword Art Online begin to appear and battle against the players, whereupon the viewer learns that, if one who is defeated by said boss just so happens to be a surviving member of the aforementioned game, then their memories will be completely wiped! As is the case with our main girl, Asuna! Now, with a basic narrative, which is inherently fine on its own, there is a lot to discuss. Firstly, let's discuss the impracticality of the Augma as a piece of technology.

For starters, the game requires you to play with this device outside and to utilise your own body in order to fight off against the monsters you see before you, as you place the technology over your face (much like the Nerve Gear in SAO). The idea is that the players, with this technology equipped, can see the virtual world and monsters presented within it, and those without, cannot, and since the game requires the players to be running around and swinging their arms about, then your average person would just be seeing a bunch of man-children screaming as they fight off against seemingly nothing! It's an image I had while watching the film that made me laugh as it is quite frankly, silly. In addition to this, while playing the game, the player is not aware of the physical world around them, and, let's say if they go to punch an enemy in the game (in which only they can see!), in the real world they could easily punch a random pedestrian without even being aware! Thankfully, in this world, it seems nobody travels outside, as this problem never seemed to be brought into fruition. It seems everyone in the real world disappears once the players begin their flailing. Even more problems arise when you think about the dangers the players themselves are in while in the game. What about if they think they’re running to a dragon or something, a good sixty meters in front of them but instead they proceed to run into open traffic and get run over? And I know the writer even thought of this possibility himself because during the scene in which Kirito goes to a university lecture and remarks to the lecturer that there are problems with the technology, the lecturer responds by asking him, “Is this an issue with the road accidents?” or something along those lines. As such, it leaves me to believe that there have been plenty of incidents while wearing and playing this game, and the fact that the player is completely unaware of his or her surroundings makes me wonder why anyone would willingly want to play the game out of fear of an incident occurring. Hell, a random passer-by could easily steal items out of their pockets, or even worse since they’re practically undefended!

"LIQ, you always nitpick these small little things. Why does it even matter?"
Perhaps you're right, imaginary voice in my head in which thinks of counter-arguments to my points so I can provide justification against them. Perhaps I am being pedantic in my criticisms, and just looking for stuff to complain about because indeed I am talking about SAO. A series so overtly hated at this point, that people begin groaning when they see another video on YouTube criticising the series. However, the reason why I was so distracted by such little effort in creating something that feels "real" or "believable" was because the film bored me to death, and when I'm bored, my mind thinks of such things.

Boredom. There in lies my main problem with the film, and the main reason in which every element felt so contrived to me. As a result of this boredom, another problem with the technology that bugged me began to arise: there was no clear limitations of what it could or couldn't do. For example, when attacked by an enemy in the game, some people are perfectly okay, while others are thrown back or respond to pain when being hit by an enemy. They’re nothing more than CPUs, right...? How can they issue any pain whatsoever, more so have any ability to physically move a person? When a player is hurt by these enemies and is thrown through the air, does their real-life body also fly back? The character in the digital world's movements are dictated by the actions of the player in the real world, so it doesn't make any sense. It’s just incredibly inconsistent.

This lack of clear limitations regarding the mechanics of the game also extends to the abilities of the players. For example, one of the antagonists in the film was capable of pulling off all of these amazing manoeuvres by bouncing off the walls at great speeds, which, if this were a video game in which a player used some kind of gaming peripheral such as a controller would be understandable, this element begins to make less sense when you remember that this game is controlled by the player physically moving their bodies! It's just silly to imagine that anyone could realistically be able to do such a thing, and it ends up pulling me out of the film because my suspension of disbelief shatters.

Moving along to Kirito, one thing I always praised about Gun Gale Online, despite my obvious disdain for that arc, was that they attempted to do something new with Kirto's character. His short battle with PTSD was, in my opinion, the most interesting thing to ever happen to his character, and while the pay off for this is incredibly weak, at least there was an attempt! A gold star for effort, if you will. In Ordinal Scale however, Kirito is perhaps at his most bland, and that's saying something for an already bland character. Kirito's purpose in this narrative is simple: he is the hero who saves the day and that's it. We never learn anything new about him as a person nor are there any attempts at trying to give him any more of a personality. He feels like an empty shell. While initially I was ready to throw Ordinal Scale some praise as it presented Kirito as the weakest player of this new game, thereby placing him in a position in which he is not the strongest at all times, and even resulting in a somewhat charming scene in which he falls flat on his face in an attempt to be cool, unfortunately this element is only used for comedic purposes.

Kirito’s lack of strength means nothing in the grand scheme of things since he gains power pretty quickly, becoming the number one player with little to no effort, and is used more so to pad out the story otherwise Kirito would have defeated the antagonist in their first encounter. Having Kirito be the weakest, and having him struggle and work hard to gain power in order to save his girlfriend would have given the narrative a greater sense of sincerity and heart as well. I may have found myself rooting for Kirito, as he is the underdog in this tale for once, but unfortunately the narrative opts for its roots of having him be overpowered and that's all. Watching the film, I can somewhat understand where I believe the script was going regarding his character: that of a directionless guy who has to finally decide what to do with his life. This is evident by the fact that he seems even more melancholic than what we are used to, and by the fact that he is taking a while in choosing a college course to attend. I really want to find the pieces here, and I really want to like Kirito, but I simply can't, as, even with these tiny details, Kirito feels more so like a robot than a character.

Asuna’s character in the film acts as the focal point of interest for the audience, being that she loses her memory of her time in Sword Art Online. Their relationship is pivotal in holding together much of the emotional weight of the narrative, due to the fact that we see both of them at the beginning of the film promise to each other that they’ll see the stars together; something that is shattered as a result of this loss of memory. Asuna's struggle with her memory loss is honestly the only element that kind of held my interest. Seeing her experience some form of PTSD when being cut down by the antagonist, or when she breaks down and cries alone after losing her memories, adds some layers of depth onto her character, and while it is nothing extraordinary, it also adds some kind of drama to the narrative.

Perhaps my biggest gripe with the narrative was the use of exposition. Exposition is inherently not a bad thing, and, in fact, is a pivotal element in every narrative to allow the viewer to understand the world they are presented with. However, what's important is the way in which the exposition is delivered. Have the exposition be delivered in such a way to naturally allow the viewer to learn and gauge things by themselves. Perhaps use the cinematography and framing to convey ideas. Perhaps slip small pieces of information in conversations between characters that build on our established knowledge of the context of the world. There is an infinite number of ways to handle exposition, but the one most common, as it requires little effort, is when simply a character monologues, or flat out tells the viewer everything! And indeed, SAO: Ordinal Scale opts for this kind of delivery. As such, it makes the script come across as lazy and not very well thought out, as the viewer is subjected to large sections dedicated to simply telling us what is happening. While certainly not as prevalent in Gun Gale, Ordinal Scale makes use of plenty of cafe scenes in order to deliver such exposition, which, as previously mentioned, not only makes these scenes drag on, but the inherent framing that comes with a cafe scene is visually boring too.

The villains of this film are also incredibly poor. Both antagonists, Eiji, a surviving member of SAO, and Tetsuhiro Shigemura, a professor and father to a girl called Yuna, wish to bring this girl back to life. They believe the way in which to resurrect her is by extracting memories of the SAO survivors through the technology already discussed. While this is indeed a fine motivation, its ultimately undercut by how little emotional weight this carries. As a viewer, we have no reason to care for these people, or the deceased girl, as we know nothing about them. Who cares if they do not succeed? We are given no reason to do so, nor are their characters well-written enough to elicit such emotions of sympathy in me.

Moreover, as their targets are specifically that of SAO survivors, it doesn't make much sense to have the bosses be that from the game as a means to attract them. Perhaps it may act as a deterrent and stop people from even going as it brings along memories of that time in which they witnessed thousands of people die, and thus, be fruitless. However, I am willing to accept the possibility that, of course, some SAO survivors perhaps may have gotten over such trauma, as it has been four years, and will use such opportunities as a means of getting over their past nightmares, which I believe could have been an interesting angle, but is unfortunately never used.

As Kirito believes it be wrong for the survivors of SAO to forget their memories, as it would mean they're also forgetting the people that they lost, perhaps an interesting narrative thread would have been to have the antagonist play a direct contrasting ideology to Kirito's. Perhaps the antagonist could argue that it's in fact great for the SAO players to forget as they can move on with their lives. This would have given Kirito a greater sense of purpose in this narrative, and allowed the viewer to see the advantages of two ideologies. As such, we are not subjected to Kirito's stance, which the film propagates as the morally "correct" one, rather that the film allows the viewer to think for themselves, and would have given Kirito's rivalry towards the villain a greater sense of authenticity. It's not only about physically besting the villain, but also a journey of understanding them too, making each party all the more human.

I've talked at length about what this film "could have been", and offered many ways in which I think it could have been made interesting, but in doing so, I don't mean to suggest that I am a good writer, or my ideas are of any greater value than those presented. Simply, all my own interpretations of how Ordinal Scale could be good stem from my frustration with it: mainly its wasted potential.

Hell, even Kayiba makes an appearance in the film, and just like every encounter we’ve had up with him up to this point, all he does is spout off some random vague existential nothingness and off he goes! While it does add some introspection into his character, as he remarks that he too used to think like the father whom is trying to revive his daughter, suggesting some kind of growth or awakening, we don’t learn anything else. Ultimately Ordinal Scale’s narrative and character fails due to a lack of focus, and I believe that's the keyword here. "Focus". Ordinal Scale feels as if a team of over twenty writers had ideas for a story, and instead of choosing one or two concrete ideas and developing them, chose to use every single unique idea. The result is a rather confusing mess of ideas and concepts that never really mesh together, nor play out in any interesting way.

Now, that’s not to say that the film is ultimately worthless however. There were a few moments I kind of liked in fact! SAO’s visuals and music has always been pretty strong (for the most part anyway) and this is where the film excels best at. The film looks good from a visual perspective, and the final action sequence was one I certainly did enjoy! Another small detail I liked was a short two second visual in which we see Asuna fly up in the air to get ready for an attack. Overlayed on her stance, one can see an image of Yuuki, who then aids Asuna in her fight. It’s a sweet little exchange, and while it was mainly included for some forced manipulation of the FEEELS I’d imagine, it works on me anyway since these two are the only two characters with some semblance of actual emotional investment; I admit I smiled when I saw that! You know what other moment made me smile? An uncensored shot of Asuna’s nipples while she was bathing. Now THAT was worth the price! I did notice a few instances of CGI however, which did kind of break my immersion in a couple of places, used mainly in the final scene of the film with some of the designs of the monsters, and in a shot where Kirito is on the phone to Asuna on his bike, where CGI pedestrians are used in the background, but it’s nowhere near the worst case of CGI I’ve seen before. The music is also good too (albeit somewhat generic and forgettable in my opinion), and I honestly really do like Yuna’s character design as well!

In conclusion, Ordinal Scale was a massive mess of ideas and concepts thrown into a blender. While, upon reflection, I wouldn’t consider Ordinal Scale to be as bad as Gun Gale Online (for that was not only much longer, filled with more plot convenience and didn’t have nearly as good animation) it was certainly nothing to raise the bar for the series, and at this point my expectations are so low that they’re right next to Dinosaur bones! It’s essentially a movie for the fans of the series, with constant call backs to earlier instalments in the franchise and the such, which is not inherently a bad thing to be, but it doesn’t excuse all of the problems I had in regards to the script. Now, I'm not here to degrade anyone who likes Sword Art Online. I believe doing such a thing anyway is dumb, and rather counter-intuitive if we all want to be open to different perspectives. Like previous instalments, the reason why I feel such irritation towards Ordinal Scale is, again, the wasted potential. The ingredients are here. It's just a shame a chef who doesn't know how to cook made the meal.