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Pluto is an anime that had been in development for years, though it really does benefit from the time it came out because of how startlingly relevant it feels. AI is only becoming more sophisticated and its role in society at large is a hot button issue and will only become more so as it continues to develop and progress. There's a war being waged between Israel and Gaza, where Palestinian civilians are being indiscriminately killed in record numbers by advanced weaponry courtesy of the American military industrial complex. These are prescient issues that the vast majority of people in the world will be affected ... by on some level in the coming years, and Pluto's 2023 release feels like a chilling reminder of that fact. In spite of this, the story really is a product of its time. Naoki Urasawa's manga (a darker and more grounded reworking of one of Astro Boy's most popular arcs) was published in 2002, two full decades before the anime adaptation, and the story reflects the realities and anxieties of the world at the time. It was an era in which robotics and technology at large were becoming increasingly advanced, and in which America was waging its war on Iraq, which was started on false pretenses and saw the deaths of countless innocents.

This sociopolitical context is an inexorable part of Pluto's DNA, as the story revolves around a world in which robots have become so advanced that they have become almost fully integrated into human society. It begins in earnest as Mont Blanc, one of the seven most powerful robots in the world, is mysteriously killed, and it soon becomes apparent that this is ultimately the work of someone or something intending to take all seven of them out. The narrative then follows Gesicht, a German detective and one of the seven, as he investigates these murders while unravelling a conspiratorial web relating to the seven and their role in a war in the Middle East years prior. Urasawa's proven himself to be a virtuoso when it comes to writing gripping, twist-laden mysteries as seen in Monster, and Pluto is no different as the narrative finds a way to keep viewers tantalized and on their toes with each episode as slivers of information are revealed at a measured but ultimately satisfying pace. And it's only made all the more compelling by its wonderfully nuanced and intriguing cast of characters.

Much like Monster, Pluto has a tendency to go on narrative tangents relating to side characters that don't initially seem relevant but ultimately tie into the narrative and its themes in an intelligent and poignant way. Every episode gives viewers an extremely solid grasp of who each of the seven most powerful robots in the world are. We're treated to lengthy scenes that remain utterly transfixing in spite of them not seeming to advance the overarching plot, but serve to nevertheless imbue the cast with a tremendous level of depth. We're given significant insight into their lives, motivations and worldviews, and it all works to make you want nothing more than for all of them to come out of the story alive. The best example of this is in the first episode, which sees an unlikely bond form between a blind, technophobic composer and North No. 2, his robotic butler who is also a war veteran and one of the seven. While it initially appears tangential to the overall plot, it nevertheless manages to grip the viewer from the get go due to how well rounded and emotionally resonant their character arcs are, and it soon becomes apparent that the themes of the arc ultimately tie into what the show as a whole is trying to say about humanity.

There's a similar level of care put into the narrative world, which is entirely immersive due to the sheer amount of both narrative and aesthetic detail. We get an extremely solid grasp of how the futuristic setting functions on both an interpersonal and geopolitical level, all without it ever losing thread of the story or resorting to infodumping. And it's all rendered beautifully too, with almost every building and piece of tech feeling tactile due to an incredible level of artistic virtuosity and creativity. While there are instances of CGI that do ultimately feel at odds with the overall look and feel of the show, it's rare and not nearly bad enough to be much of a blemish on the series. The character designs are similarly excellent. Urasawa has an extremely specific and inimitable approach to drawing characters, and I absolutely love it. Instead of resorting to the hyper-idealized look you see in most anime and manga, Urasawa's characters look comparatively subdued while nevertheless retaining an unmistakably anime sensibility. It helps both in making his work feel stylistically distinct and in making his characters feel more like normal, real people.

Truly great works of art continue to be relevant long after they are created, and Pluto is a testament to that. It was written at a time defined largely by advancements in technology and war, and its anime adaptation was released at a time defined largely by advancements in technology and war. It's a depressing reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Hiroshi Harada is primarily known as the man who made the notorious Midori: Shoujo Tsubaki. While it's largely infamous for its extreme violence and generally perverse subject matter, it's also noteworthy in that Harada largely worked on the project by himself. This has been a constant throughout his career, and Limitless Paradise is particularly impressive since he made it by himself (except the music) when he was only a teenager. While considered lost media for a long time by his small but dedicated fanbase, it finally saw the light of day in its entirety last year and I'm glad it did.

The film's narrative is ... a deceptively simple one as it revolves around a teenage boy who is regularly accosted by bullies and his cruel, authoritarian teachers. Limitless Paradise uses this as a springboard to vent palpable anger at the Japanese school system, which is depicted as callous and fascistic. The film similarly does this through its incredibly expressive animation and imagery, conjuring up imagery of imperialism, war and Hell all in order to articulate the film's core message in as visceral and incendiary a manner as possible. This is punk rock in animated form. Raw and crude but also sincere and bluntly impactful. This deserves to be seen by more people.

This will function as a review for the entire series.

Although anime had flirted with mainstream pop culture before, it was generally regarded as something of a niche hobby beyond a handful of series like Dragon Ball and Pokemon. That all changed in the mid-2010s. Anime conventions around the world started to see spikes in attendance, anime films began to get high profile theatrical releases outside of Japan and streaming services like Netflix began to see the medium as a lucrative one. Right now, anime is more mainstream than it's ever been before. In fact, the medium's gotten so culturally ubiquitous now that New York's ... Times Square has routinely been taken over by ads for anime like One Piece and Demon Slayer. What was once a stigmatized niche primarily enjoyed by geeks and social outcasts has become a pop culture sensation in ways that I could only have dreamt about when I started watching anime in middle school. And I'd argue that we mainly have Attack on Titan to thank for this major cultural shift.

While other, later shows like My Hero Academia and the aforementioned Demon Slayer definitely had a major hand in cementing anime as a mainstay in contemporary pop culture, Attack on Titan's first season was undeniably what laid the groundwork for the medium's rapid growth in attention and popularity. It became an international smash hit, gripping seasoned anime fans and total newcomers alike and never once loosening its grasp. And it's not particularly difficult to see understand why the show became as popular as it did. The first season started airing in 2013, which was at the height of Game of Throne's popularity. As such, audiences were hungry for more violent, unpredictable fantasy and they got just that with AoT. It also helps that the show was just damn good, and one that only gets better as it progresses.

Attack on Titan's setup is one I'm sure most are to some extent familiar with, even if they haven't actually seen the show. We're told that the vast majority of humans have been eaten by malevolent giants called Titans, and that humanity's last remnants have gathered behind three high walls in order to ensure their survival. The story begins in earnest when one of these walls is breached by the exceptionally massive Colossal Titan, leading to the city of Shiganshina becoming overrun by them and the mother of the protagonist, Eren Jaeger, being eaten in front of him. Traumatized and seething with white-hot rage, he vows to join the military's Survey Corps and exterminate every single Titan.

Sounds fairly simple, right? And, during the first season, it is. Or at least appears to be. Some major twists and turns aside, Season 1 primarily follows Eren and the rest of the Survey Corps as they do battle with Titans in gorgeously animated action sequences and on risky, intense reconnaissance missions. While this part of the story is an undeniably fun one thanks in no small part to the immaculate, bombastic presentation courtesy of director Tetsuro Araki (Death Note, High School of the Dead) and the then-newly founded Wit Studio, it's not until the second season that the story really starts to hit its stride. Characters who previously only existed on the narrative's periphery start to take center stage and twists begin to recontextualize everything the story had initially set up. This approach continues throughout the third season and, by the show's final season, it becomes apparent that most of what we thought we knew about the show's world was either a half-truth or lie. It's also thanks to these twists and revelations that the show's identity shifts. What started off as a straightforward fantasy action series about fighting monsters morphs into a complex tragedy that deals with themes relating to cycles of violence and hatred, though I won't give away any specific details since I don't want to spoil what is a frequently incredibly shocking story. And the thing is, the show's shift in identity doesn't feel out of left field at all. It feels entirely organic given how deftly and intricately mangaka Hajime Isayama plotted the story. Right from the get go, seeds are planted that sprout into major plot points and foreshadowing is a constant throughout. It's an impressively airtight narrative, and one that's guaranteed to have you glued to your screen for hours on end.

The show's also undeniably impressive on a purely aesthetic level, and that's definitely a huge part of what made it such a successful show. As stated, the show was initially handled by Wit Studio before the reins were handed over to Mappa for its final season. Both are incredible studios and the talents of their respective animators are showcased throughout to a frequently jaw-dropping extent. Character designs are wonderfully detailed and distinctive, while lending themselves to wonderfully expressive moments during some of the series' most emotional sequences. And the action sequences in particular are an absolute highlight. They're frequently fluid and cinematic, with the show's third season in particular arguably containing some of the most impressive moments in the history of animated television.

While I've lavished Attack on Titan with plenty of praise, it nevertheless has flaws. While most of the side characters do ultimately come into their own as the series progresses, they're generally very flat during the show's first season and therefore not particularly engaging. And, while I have praised the narrative for generally being an intricate one, I'd be lying if I said there weren't moments by the end that did ultimately feel like contrivances, which only felt all the more jarring given how meticulous the story had felt up until that point. The animation also has its fair share of issues. While there is a generally high standard maintained throughout, it does falter at points. From the second season onwards, the use of shoddy CG for Titans becomes increasingly commonplace. Although the CG did get better and more detailed when Mappa took over for the fourth season, its use becomes even more regular and feels significantly less impressive than the horrifyingly detailed monsters of the first season. The action gets less impressive too after the fourth season begins. It's not bad by any stretch of the imagination, but can't help but feel like a downgrade after we were spoiled with just how beautiful Season 3 looked.

With all of that said, Attack on Titan is a special anime. The kind that comes along very rarely and etches itself into the annals of pop culture in a way that most simply can't. It's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it's one that no one is bound to ever forget due to the absolute chokehold it had not only on the anime community, but on the world at large.

Evangelion is one of anime’s most seminal, culturally ubiquitous franchises. It’s also got a very special place in my heart, as the original 26-episode television series and its cinematic conclusion are my favourite series and my favourite film respectively. As such, there was a lot riding on Evangelion 3.0+1.0. It not only functions as the final chapter of the recent Rebuild series, a largely successful if comparatively inferior reworking of the story, but as a send-off to the franchise in general, a mission statement perfectly encapsulated by its tagline (“bye-bye all of Evangelion”). I’m happy to report that, at least for the most part, the ... film succeeds in its lofty ambitions. It caps off the Rebuild series on a high note while offering a reflexive take on the franchise itself.

The story begins where Evangelion 3.0 left off. NERV and WILLE are still engaged in a battle set to determine the fate of humanity while Asuka, Rei and a distraught Shinji are left to traverse a seemingly barren wasteland. The first act of this film is nothing short of extraordinary as the trio soon stumble across a small village, survivors of the cataclysm inadvertedly brought about by Shinji at the end of 2.0. This part of the film serves as a wonderfully quiet, meditative respite from the frenetic action of the prior films as well as a beautifully sincere exploration of the themes of human resilience and growth. It’s almost Miyazaki-esque in its tranquillity, while serving as a wonderful backdrop upon which the characters’ dynamics are fleshed out. A problem I had with the prior Rebuilds was that, while their characters were well-defined enough to carry them in an engaging way, the pacing of those films didn’t allow for them to feel as fully realized as their counterparts in the original show. Although this sequence doesn’t match the wonderfully complex characterization of NGE, it’s still incredible in its characterization of the three leads nevertheless. It’s full of small, delightful moments which give viewers insight into who they are through the ways they interact with others as well as each other.

I wish I could say the same for the second act, which I’m sad to say is something of an overstuffed mess. It does contain a lot of the exciting, bombastic action the Rebuild series has always excelled at but it’s full of contrivances which felt more like last minute additions to the screenplay. This primarily comes in the form of a barrage of lore through expository infodumps, almost none of which was hinted at or established in the film’s three predecessors. It results in moments which feel jarring and unearned. It’s a massive blemish on an otherwise stellar film.

The third act, however, is nothing short of spectacular. It changes gears as it peels away its layers of artifice in a manner that calls back to both the original TV ending as well as The End of Evangelion, doing so through highly creative uses of mixed media. It all coalesces to create a self-reflexive examination of Evangelion, and it almost feels like the entire franchise folding in on itself. It comes across in many ways like Hideaki Anno conveying his complicated, ever-evolving relationship with his successful brainchild, with the conclusion he comes to tying in wonderfully to the themes established in the first act. It’s not perfect, especially with its uncharacteristically sappy epilogue featuring an adult Shinji, but it closes the book on the franchise in a beautifully heartfelt way nevertheless. Anno’s always been a creator who’s worn his heart on his sleeve, imbuing his work with a level of humanity that makes his work feel powerfully earnest as a result, and this film continues that tradition.

It’s easy to become disillusioned by the contemporary media landscape, which so often feels sanitized and insincere, so high concept films like this one always feel like a treat. It swings for the fences and, while it certainly isn’t perfect, I’m extremely glad it exists regardless. More than anything though, I’m glad that Hideaki Anno got to part with Evangelion on his own terms and am looking forward to seeing what he has to offer in the future. Bye-bye, all of Evangelion. It’s been real.

When I saw this in high school, I kinda hated it. Its first act was too repulsive even for me at the time and I found the rest of it rather dull. In spite of this, a lot of its imagery stuck with me and I decided to revisit it recently. I'm totally glad I did since my opinion of the film's undergone a complete 180.

It's as fascinating as it is grotesque, with creative direction and a nightmarish, striking general aesthetic managing to make the film's extremely limited animation work in its favour (which was done entirely by one man, which makes it all the ... more impressive). And the narrative, which I had at one point found unengaging and dismissed as being edgy misery porn, was a great deal more poignant this time around, which was actually aided by the notoriously unflinching depiction of its transgressive subject matter.

A fascinating and understandably divisive sequel. While its predecessor was perhaps somewhat heavy handed and ponderous in its dialogue, this dials it up several notches by having pretty much every character speak in cryptic idioms as well as quote from Eastern philosophy and scripture. While a fair share of it does tie into the core themes of the narrative, there are instances where it feels frankly superfluous and obtuse, and this gets frustrating at times.

Nevertheless, its characterization is undeniably strong, the anachronistic world is as atmospheric and haunting as ever and, on a thematic level, it serves as a natural jumping off point from ... the concerns of the first film; we've always had a desire to play God and create in our own image even before the advent of technology, in the creation of dolls and puppets.

Originally published here: https://letterboxd.com/razortongue/film/ghost-in-the-shell-2-innocence/

The late 1990s were an interesting time for TV anime as auteurs were given free reign to create unique and unconventional shows on their own terms, thus making the era comparable to early 1970s Hollywood. One such anime was Kunihiko Ikuhara's surreal feminist parable, Revolutionary Girl Utena.

The narrative revolves around the titular Utena who aspires to become a prince after a life-altering chance encounter with one as a child. It begins with her inadvertently becoming involved in a series of clandestine duels over the possession of an enigmatic girl known as the Rose Bride, who is said to have the potential to “revolutionize the ... world”. She subsequently decides to protect this girl, Anthy, from those vying to take her as their own by partaking in said duels and, as the series progresses, truths about the setting and characters are gradually revealed.

A massive part of what makes this series work as well as it does would be its complex, multifaceted cast of characters. A lesser show would pit Utena against one dimensional duelists who simply want Anthy’s power for themselves but the show wonderfully sidesteps this by creating intricate backstories for all of them, while having them partake in the duels for reasons the viewer can easily understand and empathise with. Even the biggest scumbags among them have complex and well thought out reasons for acting the way they do throughout the narrative.

While these aforementioned characters are undeniably remarkable, it’s the titular heroine who truly steals the show. Good natured and empowered but brash and somewhat narrow-minded, she is similarly multifaceted and has a regal, powerful presence in spite of her personal flaws. Couple this with a thought provoking, subversive backstory which informs her actions and worldview and you’ve got yourself one of the most memorable and endearing anime protagonists of all time.

Serving as Utena’s foil is Anthy, the meek and submissive Rose Bride. Her conventional, conservative feminine nature counteracts the significantly less passive Utena and this dichotomy is instrumental in conveying the show’s themes pertaining to gender roles, especially within fairy tales. That being said, one could criticize such a character as being dull and one-note but it’s made apparent early on that there’s more to Anthy’s character as we’re initially led to believe before we’re eventually treated to a powerful and shocking set of revelations bookended by a wonderful character arc.

The subversive, unconventional nature of the show’s character writing is likewise exemplified in its narrative world. Revolutionary Girl Utena is set in a bizarre, surreal landscape where seemingly anything could happen as everyday logic is given a brutal beating before being thrown out the window. This gives way to some evocative, often head-scratchingly confusing imagery which ofttimes calls to mind the works of Alejandro Jodorowsky and David Lynch. This often entails placing objects in places where they normally wouldn’t belong, and this is used as a means of not only evoking a surreal atmosphere, but likewise communicating ideas to the viewer about the themes of the narrative and for some genuinely hilarious sight gags.

This idiosyncratic directorial decision likewise aids in masking the show’s most noticeable flaw, namely its limited animation. JC Staff were a relatively new studio at the time and thus they weren’t exactly given an Akira-esque budget to work with. In spite of this, the show does manage to remain visually stunning due to its eye-catching and stylish direction. Lighting, colour, framing and editing are all utilized in imaginative ways in order to both convey thematically relevant ideas to the viewer and amplify the emotional impact of certain scenes. The backgrounds are also highly impressive due to the sheer amount of detail they are imbued with. They also aid in giving the show a fairy tale-esque, almost dreamlike atmosphere due to the use of watercolours and this complements the surreal, often beautiful imagery excellently.

The soundtrack is similarly effective with heavy guitars and choirs being used to imbue the duels with an almost apocalyptic sense of gravitas and with piano and brass-based tracks being peppered throughout the rest of the series, fitting their respective scenes to a tee.

Revolutionary Girl Utena is a strange show. It’s brimming with absurd concepts and visuals that some could potentially find alienating but, for those who can appreciate its eccentricity, it's simply one of the most powerful statements regarding adolescence, sexuality and identity in animated form.

I distinctly remember gearing up to watch The End of Evangelion at the age of 15. I was expecting a dark and introspective albeit straightforward conclusion in the same vein as the show’s latter half, which would act as a replacement for the last two episodes, which I felt were too confusing and esoteric at the time. What I got, however, was something entirely different. It was the most surreal and cerebral cinematic experience I had been privy to and it had me feeling incredibly conflicted as to whether or not it was a good film. A few re-watches later, however, made me understand it ... a great deal better and made me love it more with each individual viewing and, while it was just as dark as I had initially anticipated, it has a beautifully optimistic message at its core.

Like the series that spawned it, the film starts out deceptively straightforward as it continues where Episode 24 left off as Shinji is stricken with guilt and grief over his actions in that episode and SEELE is preparing for the Human Instrumentality Project. It opens with what is arguably one of anime’s most shocking scenes before a couple of tense and even harrowing action sequences ensue. When the film reaches about the 45-minute mark, however, the viewer’s expectations are thrown out of the window as we are given what can only be described as an even more surreal and bizarre take on the events of the final two episodes with strange, apocalyptic Freudian imagery that gives even Eraserhead and Tetsuo: The Iron Man a run for their money. This may sound daunting but it is given adequate context by the film, which likewise manages to contextualize the last two episodes and, for that reason, the film and the aforementioned final episodes work hand in hand quite nicely.

As outlandish and bizarre as this film is, it never feels pretentious as its surreal occurrences are firmly rooted in the lore of the show through its masterful use of foreshadowing and the film is packed with details which make it ripe for rewatching.

As was the case with the show, the character cast remains as remarkable as ever as their arcs are given closure in ways which make sense given the events which transpire in both the show and the film. I know that Gendo’s is something of a point of contention among some viewers as some found it contrived but I thought it was poignant and made perfect sense given his motivations throughout the show. However, the protagonist Shinji goes through the most riveting arc which perfectly carries on from where episode 24 left off and ends beautifully as he and the audience are given a profound, even life-changing message about communication and life as a whole. It’s done in a visually stellar sequence which leaves me moved every single time I watch it.

Speaking of the visuals, the film is rivaled only by Akira as being the most stunning anime to have ever been released. Gone is the inconsistent animation of the show, and instead we get detailed, smoothly flowing movement. We get the best of both worlds too as Anno’s unparalleled eye for composition which made up for the show’s often limited animation is present here and better than ever. It’s to the point where almost every individual frame could be an artwork in and of itself.
The soundtrack is similarly impressive as we get some of the most emotive and powerful tracks I’ve ever heard. They aid in imbuing the apocalyptic imagery throughout the film with a sense of gravitas that makes it stick in the mind of the viewer long after the film has ended.

I understand that perfection is absolutely subjective as everyone's taste is wildly different as their criteria for what makes a good film is governed largely by their own principles and experience but I personally believe that The End of Evangelion is perfect as it does everything it sets out to do and does so brilliantly. It’s shocking, haunting, strange, mesmerizing and I honestly don’t think there’s anything quite like it. For that reason, as well as its important message, it is my absolute favourite film.

I have mixed feelings about long running battle shounen. On one hand I have a soft spot for the genre as I grew up with it and have a thing for martial arts but on the other I have become disillusioned with it for the most part due to poor pacing and lazy writing prevalent in a lot of prominent titles. I therefore feel immense satisfaction when I come across a quality series within the genre. I felt this way just over a year ago when I saw the incredible 2011 adaptation of Yoshihiro Togashi’s Hunter X Hunter and have recently had the pleasure of ... watching another adaptation of one of his works, namely 1992’s Yu Yu Hakusho.

The show revolves around a teenage delinquent named Yusuke Urameshi who dies after saving a child from being run over by a car. He is subsequently given another chance of life by Koenma, the ruler of the afterlife and is appointed as a Spirit Detective. This basically entails righting wrongs caused by unruly demons and apparitions who have made their way to Earth. The series follows his exploits as he is accompanied by his close friend Kuwabara and two demons, namely Kurama and Hiei.
The story starts out with a few mini arcs, in which the lead characters are tasked with dealing with various supernatural predicaments by the afterlife. These initial episodes give us a solid grasp of the characters through their interactions and do a solid job in establishing their abilities so as to lay the groundwork for the later episodes, which are a great deal more battle-centric.

Speaking of which, the fight scenes in this series are among the best anime has to offer. They are all uniquely animated and directed with intentionally distorted proportions, intense shading, subjective uses of colour as well as unconventional sound design that makes the sound of each hit feel all the more impactful. These fights are also made more enjoyable by the fact that each fight has a distinct identity enhanced by the aforementioned factors and the fact that none of these fights ever overstay their welcome, often clocking in at two episodes (which is pretty rare for a battle shounen). That being said, the fights aren’t always perfect as there are a number of moments which can be regarded as, for lack of a better term, asspulls. However, a number of them can be excused as they often tie into the characters’ already established abilities, though there are one or two instances where they feel completely out of left field (and thankfully these moments are few and far between).

Although the fights are definitely impressive, the strongest aspect of Yu Yu Hakusho in my opinion would have to be the characters. All of the leads feel incredibly well realized and the chemistry between them is engaging and often hilarious, with the lead character Yusuke being one of the best shounen protagonists I have had the pleasure of encountering. He’s a brash, vulgar delinquent who enjoys getting into fights and ditching class and, while this archetype has become more prevalent since the show’s release, he remains incredibly unique due to his complex motivations and personality. He acts the way he does so as to avoid connecting with others and expressing his emotions, something which can be attributed to his troubled home life. A significant part of his arc is him growing and coming to terms with himself as a person and this is affected in interesting ways by both his increase in power and the events that transpire throughout the show.

The three other leads are also incredibly enjoyable and the ways in which they interact with one another in both obvious and subtle ways speaks volumes about who they are and the enjoyability of these scenes is amplified by just how varied and distinct from one another they are. We have Kuwabara, an idealistic and reckless street punk, Kurama, a dignified and empathetic former thief and Hiei, a cynical and ruthless antihero. These personalities, along with those of other side characters, are given time to shine in slice of life sequences that don’t advance the main narrative but help in making the viewer care about and understand them as they form complex relationships with one another.

A similar amount of care is put into the main villains. While they often come off as being two dimensional initially, more nuanced motivations are revealed later on and these are always foreshadowed in some way and thus never feel contrived and the ways in which they approach life often makes for an interesting contrast to the ways in which Yusuke and the others do. The characterization of both the protagonists and antagonists is also enhanced by the striking and highly detailed character designs as details and subtle design principles give the viewer a feel for who each of the characters are.

Speaking of visuals, the art and animation of Yu Yu Hakusho are really impressive and have aged remarkably well. This isn’t particularly apparent in the initial episodes as there is a noticeable lack of detail and the animation feels somewhat limited but this becomes rectified fairly quickly as the character designs and backgrounds become more detailed and the animation becomes more fluid. Admittedly there are moments where certain shots are reused and this can break immersion but the sheer quality of pretty much everything else allowed me to let them slide.

As is the case with the visuals, the soundtrack with also noteworthy with a number of standout tracks that do a solid job of complementing their respective scenes. There are one or two tracks that I did find to be somewhat repetitive, but it never got to a point where it became grating.

The series is an absolute must for fans of the battle shounen genre, as it eschews the excessive padding and filler that permeate a number of other series in the same vein and replaces them with taut pacing, a phenomenally well rounded cast of characters as well as unique and unconventional direction. It may adhere to the formula to a large extent, but these aforementioned factors elevate it.

This was my first foray into the world of mangaka Junji Ito and I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction. Fragments of Horror is quite simply one of the best horror anthologies I’ve come across in any medium.

Fragments of Horror is comprised of eight short stories of varying lengths. While some are better than others, they are all effective. It starts off with Futon, which consists of a mere eight pages yet masterfully sets the tone for the anthology. Eerie, quirky, shocking and unpredictable. Said tone is established and maintained by pretty much all of the stories featuring twist-laden plots often incorporating the theme ... of paranoia with disturbing imagery often pertaining to the distortion of the human body. The standouts for me would have to be Gentle Goodbye, which was an oddly touching albeit simultaneously unnerving story that I could see hitting home with anyone who’s lost a family member and Blackbird, which had arguably the most bizarre plot and some of the most unsettling imagery in the anthology. Nevertheless, all of the stories in the anthology are worth reading.

Although the stories are definitely memorable and compelling, the anthology’s artwork would have to be its strongest aspect. The realistic characters and sheer amount of detail given to the viscera and supernatural entities makes the stories all the more engaging and disturbing. The way Ito lays out the panels is also worth noting as he does so in such a way that allows the viewer’s eyes to glide across the page, making it easier to read and giving it an oddly addictive quality. He also utilizes this so as to make the anthology more unsettling due to instances of it placing us in a character’s shoes by having an image of the character reacting at the end of a page with a detailed and horrific image of whatever the character was reacting to on the next, often making the turning of a page a nerve-racking experience.

In conclusion, I would highly recommend Fragments of Horror to anyone who enjoys the genre as well as anyone who would like to see the comic medium utilized in a unique way and am looking forward to reading some more of Ito’s work in the future.