Back to Lulech23's Profile Lulech23's Profile

Condensing Qualidea Code into a single score may be one of the hardest things I've ever done on MAL. I went into it completely blind, drawn in purely by the character designs and atmosphere in the official artwork. Frankly, this is the correct way to view the show: with zero expectations. Not because it will disappoint you, necessarily, but because it will defy any and all expectations you could possibly go in with.

Without spoiling anything, this defying of expectations is intentional and built into the heart of the story. However, the creators may have overshot building up the main plot twists. Keen observers will no ... doubt recognize the cracks in Qualidea Code's world within the first several episodes, but with no acknowledgement of them from the show itself, it's easy to mistake these subtle hints as simply bad writing. Sticking along for the ride will eventually pay off, but the demand on the audience in the meantime is high.

Furthermore, when the payoff finally does come, it doesn't come in traditional forms of justice or good vs evil. The morals of Qualidea Code are nuanced and surprisingly deep, yet barely explored. Perhaps a second cour could have solved this problem, but it's hard to imagine drawing out the rest of the plot for the sake of making its themes more obvious. If you stop and think about them for yourself, you'll find a lot to unpack--enough to evoke the emotion of a much bigger series. Unfortunately, Qualidea Code itself has neither the time nor the scenarios to do its own themes justice. It 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 to be Neon Genesis Evangelion, but winds up just being Neon.

That's not a bad thing, though. The character designs and atmosphere that drew me in shine brightly indeed. The soundtrack is also a standout, and we even get two OPs and three EDs despite being a mere 12-episodes--all five of which are fantastic. It's just a shame a bit more of the budget wasn't dedicated to bringing the great artwork to life. In later episodes especially, characters frequently go off-model and battle sequences are cut away to the sky whenever an impact occurs. Still, this doesn't take away from the appeal of watching cool characters doing cool things--which occupies much of the show's runtime.

Such is the dilemma of Qualidea Code: on the one hand, it is best viewed as an "unplug your brain" action spectacle; on the other, it takes careful observation and introspection to get the most out of it. The excellent character designs and soundtrack will draw you in, but the frequent lapses in quality will put you off. If you stick it out to the end, you may look back fondly on the experience, but you'll also probably forget it all happened in a month or two.

And yet, given Qualidea Code's own transient reality, perhaps that's the most poetic outcome of all.

This may be one of the most underrated shows I've come across in a while. I held off watching PSO2: The Animation for *years* because of its low review scores, but after recently getting back into PSO2 the MMORPG, I decided to finally give it a try. And oh boy, I was not prepared for what a treat this is.

**This review is spoiler-free**

PSO2: The Animation is something of a victim of its own marketing. The premise of an anime created by Sega where a real-world Sega videogame enjoys universal popularity feels pretentious, as if the whole thing were nothing more than an extended commercial. But ... while the anime's existence may indeed be advertising, its plot has far better motives. In fact, remove PSO2 and you'd still have a nice story, albeit nothing groundbreaking.

Contrary to fans' hopes at the time of release, PSO2: The Animation is not an adaptation of the game's story. (We later got PSO2: Episode Oracle for that.) Instead, it serves as a *prequel* to Episode 4 of the MMORPG--and a rather critical one at that. At its release, Episode 4 provided a jarring tonal shift for the series, and at first glance, The Animation only adds to the shock. In hindsight, however, it was clearly intended to do the opposite. Viewers are presented with the gentlest of on-ramps from a typical highschool rom-com to the sci-fi world of PSO2 itself blended with reality in some genuinely interesting ways.

What's more, the execution of both sides of the coin is unexpectedly competent. The highschool drama may play off familiar tropes, but it does so specifically to create contrast with its more original elements. And more surprisingly, it manages to avoid the cringey pitfalls typically ensnared by the setting. The main protagonist, Itsuki, is neither a flat nobody nor an untouchable god. The love triangle is not overplayed nor sustained on contrived misunderstanding. His friendship with both leading heroines actually makes sense, and each character contributes something unique to the story.

Then there's the red herrings, which are, in a word, brilliantly played. Without spoiling anything, I can only say again that the tropes here are used as a plot device, not a crutch, and the writers are very aware of their audience's awareness of them. While the outcome is nevertheless predictable (this is a PSO2 anime, after all, and PSO2 things are bound to happen) the payoff is so satisfying when it comes that it nearly feels like a second season packed into one.

In addition, the way the show incorporates elements from the game demonstrates real understanding of players, right down to self-deprecating humor that any veteran will appreciate. The way characters interact with each other and with the game is possibly the most lifelike of any MMO anime I've seen--especially important considering this is aimed at players of a real-world MMORPG. The attacks, the sound effects, the locations, and even play styles are faithfully represented without ever being too on-the-nose. This does of course mean that prior experience with the game is an absolute prerequisite to follow the show's plot and cameos. But this only serves to demonstrate that advertising was a second priority for Sega. PSO2: The Animation is a love letter, first and foremost.

And no more clearly can this be felt than in the original soundtrack. While a few PSO2 tunes make an appearance to capitalize on key moments, a majority of the time your ears will be treated to something completely different. And I do mean "treated"--the main theme in particular immediately caught my ears, and the piano rendition is now one of my favorite anime tracks of all time ("POTENTIAL ABILITY -Heart-"--look it up!).

PSO2: The Animation could very easily have wound up a simple cash grab to shove PSO2 the MMORPG in your face. In fact, by all rights, that's all it ever *should* have been. Instead, it's one of the most successful videogame anime tie-ins I've ever seen, and it may just be the highlight of the entire Episode 4 arc. Whether or not you're a fan of PSO2, you've seen everything here before. But if you are, there's something special about seeing it in this context. The Phantasy Star series has long held a quiet influence over pop culture at large, and The Animation handily stands on its own amid the franchise. So long as you happen to fit in its rather specific demographic, it'll put a contented smile on your face from start to finish.

"We'd done it. With a fraction of the resources, we'd done it."

These words by animation director Yoshikazu Yasuhiko perfectly summarize both the development and story of Mobile Suit Gundam. Despite numerous production challenges limiting its scope of animation, Gundam managed to be a fresh take on the mecha genre for the late 1970's and still stands the test of time to this day. In fact, given that no 40 year-old anime has aged well by 2020 standards, it's perhaps easier to overlook the shortcomings of Gundam's animation now than when it aired. Yes, characters frequently go off-model, and yes, numerous shots are reused time and ... time again, but it never gets in the way of the real star of the show: the story its creators were trying to tell.

Early episodes might seem easy to dismiss as the era's "badguy of the week" tropes bleed through. But Gundam was conceived to buck this very trend, and with time, it's clear there's more going on than meets the eye. Arcs that typically would have resolved quite quickly in other shows instead stretch out for several episodes, interspersed with combat that's just military enough to feel genuine without being too complicated to follow. Less important story beats rarely feel like filler, instead fleshing out the characters and world in a meaningful way even if the plot ultimately isn't driven forward.

And perhaps Gundam's greatest strength is how it manages to be fiercely character-driven despite juggling duties as a fun giant robot show for kids and serious war drama for teenagers and adults. The main protagonist, Amuro, may not himself be the strongest lead, but he's a very human one, at best transporting viewers into his shoes and at worst playing the perfect foil for more likeable cast members. It's easy to admire the commanding Mr. Bright for his perpetual cool or pilot Sayla for her secret noble background, but Amuro doesn't have either of these qualities. Even the advantages he does have (his father invented the Gundam and he himself is something of a tech whiz) are not pushed front and center until quite late in the series. Rather than fight for a particular honor or ideal, Amuro's philosophy is that he just does what he has to do—nevermind he's only 15 and not yet emotionally equipped for the task.

In this he is not alone, seeing as much of the cast bears a similarly young age (despite generally demonstrating more maturity). The found family and coming-of-age themes that result are obvious, but serve as more than merely a way to appeal to the show's target audience. Anyone can be faced with challenges larger than themselves, and more importantly, the characters' age frames the challenge—frames *war*—as the real villain of Mobile Suit Gundam. And critically, it is likewise humans—not giant robots—who are the heroes.

Gundam takes place in an age when humanity has expanded beyond earth into massive space stations known as "Sides". One such Side declares itself the independent nation of Zeon and rebels against the rest of humanity, aiming to subjugate the world to their leadership. While it would be easy to paint Zeon as a faceless evil empire, Gundam's Zeon is anything but. The show spends nearly as much time with Zeon as it does the Earth Federation, and while you'll never find yourself rooting for them, you'll often wish they wouldn't lose either. Nearly every antagonist is genuinely sympathetic, and few are purely evil. After all, they have families, comrades, and backstories too. They may be on the wrong side of history (in Gundam lore, Zeon's war wiped out half the human population), but so have been many redeemable people in the real world.

By contrast, Amuro and compatriots are initially victims of a Zeon attack forced to flee aboard a ship known as the White Base. Thanks to his quick thinking, they have the Gundam (plus a few other Mobile Suits) as backup, but they're not soldiers and have plenty of personal issues to work through besides. The injustice of the situation is palpable, but never the focus. Rather, it serves as a backdrop for personal growth, and that applies both to individual characters and their function as a team. Their failures have real consequences and their successes come at a cost, but each step along the journey grows them into people far greater than when they began.

As an aside, it was observing this process that made me fall in love with the Gundam's end credits song. It's simply perfect. But I didn't always think so. At first, it was downright awkward to listen to—a relic of a bygone era from a different culture than my own. But about halfway through the series, I realized it's not actually 1970's Japanese pop: it's a war ballad playing off the style soldiers may have enjoyed in World War II, and there's a potent lesson in its lyrics for those of us now distant from this period of history. We can't always choose the challenges we will face in life, but we *can* choose not to look back. It's useless to pine for old days that will never exist again. Instead, we must bear our burdens and march forward to create a better future.

On the one hand, the story of Gundam is little more than an unlikely band of survivors on the run, fighting for victory against the odds. But it's also so, so much more. Beneath the surface of rough animation, lackluster soundtrack, and dated theme songs lies a gem that shines just as brightly 40 years after its inception.

If you're worried about watching such an old anime, and contemplating skipping Mobile Suit Gundam for the much shorter movie compilation: don't. Set your fears aside and start here first. Such superficial flaws have no power to diminish what a splendidly charming experience the original TV show is, and it remains the definitive way to introduce yourself to all things Gundam—and anime history at large.

In a world where high school is the dominant setting for anime, Akatsuki no Yona appears to be something both refreshingly different and classic at the same time. A traditional, almost medieval eastern setting, a war of kings, princes, and princesses, a dash of legend, fantasy—and indeed, if this truly was what Akatsuki no Yona was about, it would easily live up to expectation. Instead, in the same breath as it boldly proclaims itself different a fear of being just that seemingly holds it back from being all it could have been.

Story

Akatsuki no Yona is one of those unfortunate shows that begins with a really ... interesting premise and yet is mysteriously afraid to actually commit to it.

All seems peaceful in the kingdom of Kouka. The land's various tribes are united under a kind emporer who hates violence and dotes on his daughter, Yona, the sole heir to his throne. For her part, Yona passes her days in comfort, primarily concerned only with the color of her unusually red hair and winning the heart of her distant cousin, Su-won. But all this comes crashing down in an instant when one night the emporer turns up dead, murdered by none other than Su-won himself, who immediately seizes the throne and brands Princess Yona an outcast. Under the protection of her bodyguard and childhood friend, Hak, Yona escapes—but must live under the conditions of a commoner in the kingdom she has never personally set foot in before. Weak and all alone, she is left with but one choice for revenge: to find the legendary four warriors gifted with the powers of ancient dragons and reclaim the throne from Su-won—a journey that will grow and change her into a warrior herself, as she comes to find firsthand that her kingdom is not as free from trouble as she believed.

It is uncharacteristic of me to dedicate so much time in a review to summarizing, but I do it here to make a point: this is what Akatsuki no Yona could have been. And while it technically still is, it so constantly skirts the boundary between being silly and serious that the overarching plot is all but lost in a dissatisfying delivery of both moods. However, that isn't to say the show is devoid of any bright moments. In fact, there were enough to keep me coming back for more, but I often found myself merely tolerating what came in between rather than thoroughly enjoying much of it. It isn't so much that the show suffers from too much filler, but from too little focus—poor pacing and progression. Much of Akatsuki no Yona is divided up into chunks and delivered out of order as flashbacks or even flashforwards, breaking up the flow of the story and diverting far too much attention to side plots that would've been much better off told in one or two sentences of dialog. While this approach wouldn't be as faithful to the manga, it would make for better anime.

Worse, the payoff at the end of the road is arguably not even worth the journey. Though a satisfyingly epic battle closes off the last few episodes, at the end of the season the flashforward of the prologue is not even reached in the timeline of the story, stretching the show into at least two seasons to cover content that could have been told—and perhaps better—in half of one. It's not that things don't ever pick up, but that even when they do, the show's bigger questions are never addressed, and the main villain is left practically untouched aside from a brief subplot adding nothing to the story except to remind us that yes, he does still exist and is somehow a threat—though even that much is left unclear.


Characters

Being a journey to find and recruit a number of characters, Akatsuki no Yona is unsurprisingly heavily character-driven. The intention is for each new character to rub off on Yona in different ways even as she rubs back on them, but it's difficult to say the show succeeds. Pretty much everyone wears their personality on their sleeve, with the only remotely dynamic character being Yona herself, but being static doesn't necessarily prevent the rest of the cast from being very endearing—just from being very memorable. Few characters are left undeveloped, and the author did a decent job devising different environments for each to grow up in and somehow define who they are at present. But bury any and all personality below a comfortably deep layer of corny humor and ultimately you're left with characters that always play it safe by remaining boringly simplistic. Each is more or less the same as the others, aside from one basic defining trait to give them some semblance of purpose. To be fair, those traits are used fairly well. It's just the depth behind it that's lacking, and that grows ever shallower the more characters are added into the mix.

Art & Sound

Like its historical-slash-medieval-fantasy setting, the art of Akatsuki no Yona is truly a breath of fresh air, likewise taking to the past in its slightly fantastic interpretation of traditional Korea. The setting bleeds through every aspect of the show's art, which stylistically also seems to harken to the past and reflect the styles of some '90s anime, but in more modern, high-definition form. It's a downright beautiful show when it tries to be: characters are well-animated, with eyes and expressions that seem truly alive, grand vistas frequently occupy the horizon, and though it does skip through a few battles (likely for budgetary concerns) others are carried out with great flare to the point of resembling Unlimited Blade Works' iconic style at times.

The soundtrack is equally easy on the ears, from the fantastic orchestral theme to the background music you'd only notice if it was bad. Even the completely out-of-place second intro somehow makes sense given the show's awkward sense of humor, and by contrast the second ending by Akiko Shitaka is mesmerizing in her characteristic ethnic sound. It's a rare anime today that sounds distinctly eastern in the traditional sense, but this is one of them—and it's wonderful.

Conclusion

Despite a fairly strong setup and some interesting plot points, Akatsuki no Yona ends up as a trudge through abysmally slow progression with insufficient payoff at the end, constantly abusing its allotted time and then demanding a second season to finish what it started. It's a distinctly character-focused show that could use its diverse cast as its greatest strength, but instead uses them all for the same corny humor that is only charming a fraction of the time. Though a refreshing setting, solid artwork, and great soundtrack do make the show worth checking out, they alone are not enough to warrant sticking through all 24 episodes. A tragic case of good ideas left unexplored, Akatsuki no Yona is merely passable when it could potentially have been a masterpiece. It's one of the most solid 7.5s I'll ever give; it's only too bad it couldn't reach a little higher.

In any art form, there is a reason formulas exist. Even when 'tried-and-true' passes into 'old cliché', we humans are drawn to the same things over and over again, because ultimately humanity itself hasn't changed. We all face the same basic problems and have the same basic desires. And so when we see these things portrayed in a story, we connect with it, no matter how unoriginal it may be. In fact, there's a sense in which a story can be made all the better by being as unoriginal as possible and instead simply dealing with the life experiences we all have in a way ... we can all identify with.

Such is the brilliance of Sukitte ii na Yo. It's not the most exciting anime, the most thrilling, or the most clever. Rather it finds its charm in simply being genuinely human.

*Story*

Mei Tachibana is a Grade A introvert, a social recluse who has withdrawn herself from any and all friendships on the sentiment that relationships will only end up with her getting hurt. But quickly file away any tsundere stereotypes that description may evoke—Mei isn't afraid to speak her mind or portray her feelings, she simply struggles with finding anyone she trusts enough to do so.

And the least likely of all people to become her first close friend is the most popular boy in high school, Yamato Kurosawa, yet that's exactly what happens when an incident with one of Yamato's friends ends up with Mei innocently and unintentionally stealing Yamato's heart. Unmoved by all of the skin-deep offerings of love from the other girls in school, Yamato is drawn to Mei above them all, first out of simple compassion and then out of love for her genuine depth of character.

It's a love story that wastes no time delaying romance for the big climax, but instead establishes very early on who the pair will be and then spends the rest of its time showing their development, and all the life situations, trust and broken trust that come with it. It's both a story of one young man's relentless pursuit of the girl he loves for reasons even she cannot comprehend, and how one person's affection can heal old wounds and restore lost joy in life for everyone around them. And no, it is not easy. It *is* complicated, it *is* messy...but it is also beautiful, not merely in spite of it all, but even because of it.

If that description doesn't make it clear enough, however, shounen fans should be warned: Sukitte ii na Yo falls pretty heavily in shoujo territory. While it may not be a terribly unique romance, a generic one it is not, clearly skewed to a female perspective. Not that that's a bad thing, but it is something to be aware of going in, as this in itself will limit Sukitte ii na Yo's audience, particularly among males.

*Characters*

Sukitte ii na Yo is not interested in prolonging unnecessary social drama through misunderstanding and miscommunication and overreaction as is typical for slice of life and romance anime. While that's not to say none of the characters or situations they find themselves in are exaggerated in any way (they are), they all seem to share the same level of intelligence as the viewer rather than be cursed with substantially less. Slice of life anime buffs will encounter several familiar scenarios that usually end up painfully drawn out for no other cause than at least one character's utter stupidity or sudden indecisiveness, but instead Sukitte ii na Yo seems to be almost self-aware, using these moments as opportunities to really let its characters shine, often in unexpected ways.

Of course, not everyone is instantly likeable. In fact, *at first* it is perhaps difficult to like much of anyone at all aside from Mei, who is undoubtedly the series' anchor. But this is part of the journey that Sukitte ii na Yo takes the viewer on: the same journey of Mei herself as she struggles to open up and learn to appreciate those around her—or rebuke and reject them as bad influences, if need be. It isn't always immediately obvious what each character's true colors are, and there is a purpose for each personality represented—even those painted in broad brush strokes to make a point. It could be said that a few characters develop too quickly, however this is simply an anime that covers a long period of time very fast, and overall the pacing is just right to allow the audience to develop with the characters without feeling distanced or left behind. And time is just what these characters need—initially each is carefully designed to bring something out of Mei, to whom even Yamato takes a distant second on her personal journey back into society, but it isn't until the final third of the show that it becomes apparent just how deep and complex everyone else truly is and has been all along.

*Animation*

Each decade has brought with it its own style of animation, but Sukitte ii na Yo deviates a bit from them all, opting instead for a style that, much like its plot, is just one step short of actual realism. It isn't *completely* removed from popular animation, seen in how often it falls back on familiar touches to keep itself accessible and clearly recognizable as modern anime. But at the same time, it is realistic enough that the viewer can often get lost in its world and forget that it is 2D animation, and yet true to its genre it remains more beautiful than life, engaging the imagination from the very start and never letting go. Unfortunately it does also fall into the common trap of portraying Japanese high schoolers as 20-somethings of more or less ambiguous ethnicity, but while in theory this ought to detract from the realistic premise, in practice it ultimately makes the plot easier to identify with for a wider range of people. If you don't believe me, just look up a trailer of the live-action adaptation of this story and see if it maintains the same atmosphere in J-drama form. Sukitte ii na Yo both is and isn't a great departure from the norm—all the familiar anime character types are here; they're simply more grown-up and life-like than average for anime. Even so, Sukitte ii na Yo is a nice blend of realism and fantasy, something refreshingly different despite not being entirely unique.

*Soundtrack*

Sometimes the mark of a well-done soundtrack is that it goes completely unnoticed. It could be said that is true of Sukitte ii na Yo, what with its mostly subtle cues occupying the background and more often than not supporting the scene rather than defining it. What matters is that the soundtrack here really does perform that supporting role, augmenting the atmosphere just enough to generate the intended feelings, emotions, and atmosphere.

And on quite the other hand, the anime's opening theme song, an arrangement of the late Ritsuko Okazaki's 'Friendship', is one of the most perfect little diddies I've ever heard in this or any other medium—one of those songs so soft and light and that flows so naturally you can't help but feel as if you've heard it a million times before. If you're at all susceptible to the genre it will immediately sweep you up in its bliss, and yet 'Friendship' isn't strictly-speaking a happy song. Instead the lyrics effortlessly capture both the beautiful and difficult aspects of life, not only driving home the overarching themes of the anime but giving all who identify with its message a life song to listen to over and over and over again. The soundtrack of Sukitte ii na Yo may be so-so as a whole, but like Mei in a crowd of mediocrity this one track is easily capable of making up for it, and singlehandedly sets the anime's tone very well with each successive episode.

*Conclusion*

Overall, Sukitte ii na Yo is an above-average anime that tells a mostly average tale. While as time progresses certain unusual events arise to shake things up from the norm, what makes it truly special is simply that it begins where most stories end with a 'happily ever after' and instead explores a much more human alternative. And while like many slice of life anime it suffers from being a bit contrived at times, for the most part it rises above what is expected and builds its characters with a surprising amount of depth and maturity. It may not quite be a classic, but its cult following is well earned by the likes of its deep characters, themes, and solid animation.

Guilty Crown is a great anime that does a poor job informing its audience.

*REWRITTEN REVIEW*

Within broader anime culture it's usually pretty cut-and-dried what shows are the standouts and which are the stinkers. Though there are always exceptions, any given show is pretty quickly labeled worth your time or a waste of it by general consensus. However in recent years we've seen a rising trend of shows that are much more polarizing in their nature--not universally accepted as good or bad, but most frequently panned by the vocal half (minority or majority is hard to say) while the often-drowned-out, supportive half scratches their heads and wonders ... what the naysayers don't get about the show they enjoy so much. I would say Guilty Crown is one of these shows, but in actuality the situation is a bit more unique than that. In the wake of its more popular contemporaries and the shadow of Code Geass (an anime from a few years earlier that featured similar themes), Guilty Crown is all but forgotten. And that is a real shame, because beneath an ineffective flow of key plot information lies a diamond in the rough that deserves far more affection than it receives.

Art & Sound: 10/10

First off, Guilty Crown looks and sounds amazing, as even the staunchest of critics will usually admit. Indeed, this may be the primary attraction for the show--while the story is good, as we'll get to in a minute, it is the vivid imagery and rousing soundtrack that truly sell it as something more than average. For every memorable scenario, there is a locale and audio track that are twice as memorable. The show's vision of near-future Japan is a simply delightful mix of realism and science fiction, crafting an atmosphere that is both unique and appropriately familiar. Characters were designed by Japanese artist 'Redjuice', bringing a stylistic flair that is rare even among anime, a genre of entertainment well-known for its style. Hiroyuki Sawano also shows up to grace Guilty Crown with one of his greatest soundtracks ever--if not the very best--accompanied by popular J-pop band Supercell and a new spinoff act of the group, Egoist (named after a fictional band within Guilty Crown). From every angle, Guilty Crown represents a sort of dream team of artistry, and it shows in every second of audio and animation.

As a side note, it's worth mentioning that Guilty Crown received an English dub following its original Japanese release, and not only are the English voices bearable, but in some cases they seem to represent their characters better than the originals. Dub fans rejoice, but it's hard to go wrong either way.

Story & Character: 8.5/10

On a single watch through the season it would be very easy to deduct a few marks on Guilty Crown's story and characters and call it a day, but this would be a disservice to both the show and its viewers. The simple fact of the matter is, it's practically impossible to pick up on every nuance of Guilty Crown's intricate and ridiculously complicated plot without prior knowledge of the story. When approached with an open mind it's still plenty enjoyable the first time around, but you will probably be left with more than a few unanswered questions, both large and small. The answers are out there, and most of them are even present in the anime alone, not to venture into the tie-in visual novel prequel and spinoff light novel. The problem here is how the anime prioritizes saving up big reveal moments over making sense. The first eight episodes--easily the highlight of the show--are fairly straightforward and may almost come off as entirely too simplistic, not preparing viewers for the depth that will suddenly come upon them out of nowhere starting thereafter and continuing until the show takes an awkward twist for a few episodes before finally coming back around to the same refreshing caliber it began with. If that sounds like a bit of a rollercoaster, that's because it is, and as such embracing the ride will be a bit of a struggle for some people. This challenge is made all the more difficult by seemingly unpredictable characters that not everyone will identify with. Most prominent personalities in the show are modeled after classic introverts, and just like in the real world, those who think along different patterns may find themselves frustrated, failing to grasp the inner conflicts Guilty Crown's author attempted to depict in the story's characters. The rest of the characters are mostly based on staple personalities of other dispositions, but despite the lack of originality all but a few are fun and interesting and manage to avoid falling flat.

So where does the 8.5 come out of all this? Easy: multiple viewings. Despite the poor job Guilty Crown does at informing its audience of the world it portrays, it's not for a lack of information or even for conflicting information. While certain story elements do need to be taken and simply accepted at face value, this is far more often the exception than the rule, and they are there for pure spectacle and enjoyment value. When things get serious there is actually a pretty terrific urban fantasy/sci-fi/dystopian narrative going on. Put differently, Guilty Crown's primary story flaws are not in content, but presentation. The story is there and it is a unique, fantastical experience made the more interesting by a believably realistic backdrop, but you will probably have to dig a little to find it. The kicker: it's worth digging for. Chances are you won't see Guilty Crown as it was meant to be seen until the second or third time through, and while it's a shame it takes so long to get there, there's certainly plenty to keep the experience enjoyable in the meantime. Guilty Crown aims to be many things, and in general it succeeds at them. Highschool? Check. Mechas? Check. Mysterious, intentionally mind-blowing super powers? Check. Quiet, cute, and deadly love interest? Double check. Ordinary guy thrust into extraordinary circumstances? Check. Amnesia? Check. Super virus dystopia? Check. Secret rebel organization versus evil government? Check. Guilty Crown manages to tie it all together in a pretty satisfying way, so in theory there should be something here for everyone. The question is simply whether Guilty Crown's mix of everything will resonate with you or not. As far as quality itself goes, Guilty Crown easily stands on at least an equal plane to the likes of more popular shows such as Sword Art Online or Attack on Titan. It just doesn't explain itself quite as plainly.

Overall: 9/10

Guilty Crown is a stylish and atmospheric take on many different, familiar anime themes all rolled into one. Though not without its missteps, the broader narrative operates on fascinating and engaging concepts that are simply buried beneath a layer of poor information delivery. Though a bit of criticism is due for this one central flaw, it does not ruin the experience of the anime as a whole. Early on each episode is a delightful showcase of imagination, and while the transition to the deeper plot is jarring for first-time viewers the show doesn't fail to come back around well before the season's end, and definitely offers something to repeat customers during the same time frame. Guilty Crown is an anime best approached with an open mind and a love of great art. The story may take a disproportionate amount of time to get a grasp on but it is a story well capable of getting yourself wrapped up in should you take the time to do so. Meanwhile the fantastic character and location designs and the memorable, deeply moving soundtrack will carry you along from beginning to end. Guilty Crown is not the sort of show that will resonate with everyone, but those that 'get it' will really, really get it.

Oh my, how does one go about reviewing something like this? What we have in Steins;Gate: Fuka Ryouiki no Deja vu ('The Burden of Deja Vu') is a very welcome addition to a very beloved franchise of visual novel, anime, and manga. The original visual novel/anime was outstanding to a degree few series can ever hope to achieve, and the special 25th episode kept up the pace flawlessly and tied up the story in the best way imaginable. Did we really need a movie to go along with such perfection? No, but every fan wanted it--anything to keep Steins;Gate alive.

I went into Fuka Ryouiki no ... Deja vu without expectation. The film didn't need to accomplish anything for me except to be Steins;Gate, and that it was. All the familiar pieces of the puzzle are here in true form, so much so that seeing the anime is an absolute prerequisite. Even the new elements, such as the opening and ending themes, for example, distinctly belong in the Steins;Gate world. And truly, I enjoyed it for that. Nothing is cheapened as movie spinoffs often are. I want to rate it higher than an 8, I really do, but I can't, and for one simple reason:

While the movie doesn't actually unwrite anything established in earlier productions, it spends the majority of its 90 minutes making you think it will.

Granted, this is a series about time travel, and it would hardly do for the creators to release a movie without fitting in some of the trademark D-Mails and time leaps, and to do that they had to create a scenario where they were absolutely necessary. And on the bright side the nature of the plot's central conflict allows us to spend more time with Kurisu than we've ever gotten before, and she shines just as radiantly as expected. But even though the problems the characters are faced with makes some sort of sense within the narrative and stretches your mind a bit in that good Steins;Gate way, in the end they amount to an hour of emotional turmoil that feels more like defeat than a fight for love and all that's good in the world. The story arc is much flatter this time around, building the action just enough to keep you interested, but not so much motivated--just desperate to see the end through to make sure the tremendous ending of the anime/visual novel wasn't torn back up and left an open wound. Sadly when the relief finally comes (and it does), the movie is over with almost no time to bask in the resolution.

If all you're looking for is an affirmation of the film's quality, then fear not--it is as good and solid as you hope. Indeed, it is worth seeing for fans of the series. However, I can't help but feel it would've been better off being a good deal shorter. Fuka Ryouiki no Deja vu's story is pure emotional tension, and carries closer to the point of despair than back around to a determination to see anything through. Overall it's not a bad way to end the series' storyline (thus far) but what it possesses in pure quality it lacks in progression. You won't like Steins;Gate as a whole any less, but you probably won't come to love it any more, either.