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The film's predecessor is one of the most aesthetically striking anime series. However, the only real similarity between the two Mononoke installments is that both are masterpieces. Even if it initially seems like the same morally grey, observant, and mysterious Medicine Seller has returned, this one is fundamentally different. He acts more like a romantic, nameless hero - because, in fact, they’re not the same person.

The original Mononoke was alienating because you could feel the deep cultural heritage behind it - something you instinctively know you could never fully understand. The new Mononoke, on the other hand, feels like it was made with Netflix as ... the target audience: it's alienating because it deliberately exoticizes itself. The plot structure and pacing are very Western; the self-revealing monologue at the climax was a bit too much for me, but I did enjoy the shounen-style boss fight, for instance.

What still makes this film unique is that Nakamura manages to sabotage the act of reception itself. All the focus is on the dazzling, overly ornate visuals, which - unlike in the original - are starting to lose their soul. And that's intentional: it draws attention to the downsides of new animation techniques and methods (just watch a comparison video on YouTube between the original Sailor Moon and the Eternal movie - Karakasa problematizes the same phenomenon).

Also, the pacing often feels like it's on 2x speed, or it cuts abruptly to backgrounds during dialogue for no apparent reason - it keeps you on the surface, never letting you truly sink in. Karakasa is a conceptual masterpiece because of how it plays with the act of viewing itself. The focus is not on narrative development, but on how aesthetics can overwhelm, disorient, and ultimately shape the viewer’s experience. Through its excessive ornamentation and fragmented pacing, it raises unspoken questions about the growing disconnect between form and content - a tendency that is becoming increasingly common in contemporary mainstream cinema.

Best title choice ever. "Kake" means "to bet" or a high-stakes game, while "gurui/kurui" signifies madness + obsession. When used as a verb, it’s like saying, “Let’s go crazy together!” As a compound word, it carries a nuance that’s impossible to translate directly, encapsulating the very essence of the series - whether it's the irrational storyline, the extreme facial expressions, the intensely depicted passions, or the underlying message of the work.

Capitalism is a fun ride. Kakegurui isn’t really a leftist revenge fantasy (though at first, it’s easy to see it that way). The dangerous woman, Yumeko, enters a school that functions as a microcosm of ... free-market competition. As an allegorical figure, she embodies the "pure gambler" - someone who lives for the thrill of risk-taking. To her, the academy is paradise. It doesn’t matter whether she wins or loses; she plays for the game itself. With her insatiable appetite (symbolized in the opening, where she rushes to a table set with the characters like a feast), she relentlessly challenges those in power.

She doesn’t threaten the system because she wants to overthrow it - she has no interest in justice or reform. In fact, Yumeko enjoys the established "world order" more than anyone. She represents the one aspect of the system that cannot be calculated, controlled, or manipulated. She’s dangerous because she reminds everyone that the system’s stability is just an illusion. After all, how can something built on risk and unpredictability ever be stable? Yes, the idea of “the system consuming itself” appears, but it’s not even a critique of capitalism - that's exactly why Kakegurui is my favourite political parable. If anything, it critiques the way competitors, in their pursuit of independence, become so fixated that they end up dependent instead. The series has far greater philosophical depth than to focus on something as superficial as politics.

Yumeko isn’t just a threat - she’s a catalyst, a spiritual challenger who pulls others out of their typical power struggles. She first forces characters into a reflective state, then offers them enlightenment - showing them what it’s like to completely surrender to something without any external goal. She leads them into a state of ecstasy, making them part of a shared experience that brings its own kind of liberation and purification (sometimes even for those who end up losing everything). She strips everything away, revealing the raw pulse of life - the sheer bliss of existence. The ending song captures this perfectly - genius OP-ED pairing.

Kakegurui is an anime that makes me tremble, bite my fingers, and grin maniacally. The characters, who soar to physical and emotional orgasm through their games, have completely drawn me into their madness. The spectacular finale reflects exactly that -even Ryota, the observer and outsider, ultimately experiences this pure insanity.

Wild, sexy, devilish, chilling, beautiful. An unparalleled experience.