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Jan 7, 2024
(Major Spoilers)
The pacing is too fast; there is not enough time given for development of characters' relationships. The slices of life are sliced too thin; the story rushes along to the next fight sequence, the next surprise attack.
A byproduct of the fight→fight→fight structure, which isn't by any means a necessary consequence, is increasingly escalating powerscaling. As a consequence, suspense is diffused.
Nobody is able to be close to Denji without being killed, betraying him, or otherwise having their life in constant peril. The insecurity of Denji's relationships becomes part of the plot and of his characterization, but as a device it quickly turns repetitive and uninteresting
...
(not to mention that it's relatively common in fiction and in anime in particular).
The rapid deaths of many of those close to Denji end up diminishing the significance of each death and thereby of each character. I found Himeno's death poignant, but it was quickly overshadowed by subsequent losses and betrayals and bloodshed. Of what significance is Himeno, after everyone with whom Denji is close is killed multiple times over?
The fast pacing aggravates this problem.
In Part Two, Nayuta, a character which did not really need to exist at all, mainly functions as a makeshift substitute for the two main characters Makima and Power who were killed in Part Two, to which I would say — Why kill them, if you aren't going to write the story around their absence? Nayuta's presence cheapens Makima's death somewhat (Denji has a chance to raise Baby Hitler right!), but it also makes Power's absence less impactful: despite the deaths of his object of love/infatuation, his first friend (Himeno), his longest friend Aki, and his closest friend Power, he is not given an arc in which he is absolutely alone, more alone than when he was with Pochita, and the loneliness more crushing since he knows what it means to not be alone, to love and to be loved. What meaning does Denji now have? There's no struggle to decide for himself —he's to take care of Nayuta and save up to send her to higher education. This latter point is contrived; the government of Japan has significant interest in Nayuta, and they would want to ensure she develops in a loving and stable environment so as to mature into a woman very much unlike Makima.
In Part One, Makima played the foil for when Denji encountered a potential love interest. Now, Nayuta does the same.
In Part One, Power was Denji's source of physical intimacy, and they slept together, Denji holting Power tight. Now, Denji holds Nayuta as they sleep.
I would be surprised if, assuming Power does not return anytime soon, another comic relief side character does not appear, to essentially fill that role of hers. The issue here is the practice of rotating names rather than particular persons with unique characteristics — the audience must feel a difference; otherwise the loss is a cheap plot device, a character killed for the sake of killing a character.
Power's arc feels unfinished, and, indeed, it is canonically unfinished. But to me, it feels unfinished because she was the only woman with whom Denji had a relationship that, if romantic, would be healthy in origin. There would be no betrayal, no manipulation, and a rapport built on affinity rather than secks. Power is cut down without having made an explicit advance (which is good, it needn't be told and is better left shown). Denji however does not perceive nor express romantic sentiment from & toward Power before or after her death, which is either a missed opportunity from the author or something which may develop later.
My fear is that Power's contract with Denji, in which he promises to bring her back as she is — as Power, not only as the Blood Devil — will end up a rather predictable and inartistic means to emotionally string along the audience. Tragedy for the sake of tragedy rather than tragedy as necessity.
Some potential scenarios in which this occurs: Denji searches for the Blood Devil only to find her reincarnated in another form to which he cannot restore Power's persona and memories. If this is the case, it would have been better to leave her dead the first time, when she nervously brings him cake and is greeted with a bang. Next, Denji finds the Blood Devil but is forced to fight/kill it, and to forever sever his connection with Power in the process. Such a sequence would be a cliché. It would be boring and unrewarding. Another — Denji finds Power reincarnated in a childlike form which he takes care of as with Makima & Nayata. As a consequence, the significance of Power's death to the tone and texture of the work would be made negligible, and the gravity of her death would be minimized with little payoff to Denji's character and to each of their characters in relation to the other (for example, Denji with respect to Power would be stunted and frozen, Power with respect to Denji would be trivialized).
Ideally, to restore Power, Denji undergoes trials and tribulations, which serve as an opportunity for introspection, self-understanding, and individuation.
The bad guys of Part Two are not compelling so far. (Falling's chef theme makes little sense.) Pacing issues are more pronounced.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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Mar 20, 2021
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas’ most well known contribution to English Literature encapsulates the desperate, fleeting arc of our two resolutely determined male protagonists (besides for the old age part).
Nine’s ending monologue along these lines was a perfect end to a narrative that was unfortunately hastily constructed, as though it were a building designed only to appear satisfactory from the outside. Zankyou no Terror is filled with such unfinished or overly raw concepts. If a story’s resolution is tragic, if these adolescents’ lives are tragedies,
...
then the audience must first be made to feel for the characters.
The incoherence feels unnecessary, as though Zankyou no Terror was fleshed out, concise, concluded — and then some third party demanded more, more, more — until it was ruined entirely. Like a pizza, fresh out of the oven and ready to be delivered, suddenly stopped by the manager, who dictates that it must now be covered with pineapples and anchovies and sausages — for no reason at all, other than some morbid sadism at seeing the horrified faces of onlookers and employees.
Zankyou no Terror is like a beautiful baby asleep in its manger, on a peaceful breezy summer night beneath crystalline stars and the gleaming incandescence of a full moon’s pearly white glow, waking up in the dead of night to a shadow looming over the straw sepulcher. The figure is ethnically ambiguous — but the baby doesn’t know this — the baby just sees the translucent snow-white helmet of hair belonging to the same body as the hands now wrapped cruelly around its neck as it is deprived of oxygen, violently strangled to death, its development forever halted.
Five’s arc was unnecessary, unimpactful, and incoherent. Her introduction is a death sentence to anything interesting or meaningful that may have otherwise occurred.
Lisa in practice acted as a detriment to the show, but the presence of such a character was actually a good choice and could have been explored better if not for the shitshow that was Five. In particular, there was potential in the contrast between the protagonists’ conflicting backgrounds (the obsessive familial relationship under which Lisa suffered vs. The Athena Plan's sterile, detached environment) yet their similarly undesirable and emotionally traumatizing upbringings.
Most of the cliche/predictable plot directions involving Lisa, such as her running away and getting caught, were entangled within the Five debacle; although based on her portrayal as the stereotypical dumb, passive side chick to whom the genius male protagonists are inexplicably devoted, I’m not sure Lisa being a compelling character was ever a possible outcome. It’s frustrating to see intriguing concepts reduced to the stale character cutouts of helpless woman, nice guy, determined male, and crazy bitch.
Detective Shiwazaki’s relationship with his family was undeveloped, especially with respect to his wife and the hinted at “overly committed detective” backstory. It’s as though the writers expected the audience to be familiar with this cliche and to characterize Shiwazaki themselves based on this inference. The existence of a stable and well off daughter conflicts with his lone wolf/outsider persona. He almost doesn’t seem like he *should* have a family, or at least one with which he is on good terms.
There should have been more group bonding between our primary cast such as was rushed in towards the end rather than such development used only as an emotional counterweight before killing off a character.
Along that note, Twelve’s death was haphazardly used for shock value without having any particular significance in itself, partially due to Nine & Twelve’s impending mortality. The Americans' actions were impulsive and nonsensical and came across as a clumsy plot device. From a militaristic perspective, the United States would undoubtedly favor an increase in Japan’s relative regional strength; Japan as an extension of the USA’s military apparatus coverly becoming a nuclear power is ideal. The actual reality of international politics is nitpicking though; if there had been sufficient in-story explanation, these geopolitics wouldn’t matter.
There were flashes of brilliance, such as the law enforcement to sympathetic rebel dynamic (combined with the utilization of aesthetics with respect to social media and internet virality) shown within the first few episodes, as well as the soundtrack, the motorcycle scene, Nine's farewell, etc., but overall Zankyou no Terror was naught more than a disappointment.
Reviewer’s Rating: 5
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Mar 13, 2021
Please ignore the score, my real rating is:
?/10
While watching Elfen Lied, as I would try to levy judgment upon this bizarre construction, a single thought echoed throughout my mind : "I don't know what to think."
Nevertheless, I've noticed that many so-called critics are painfully lazy and simplistic in their conclusions.
(I recommend watching the OVA in between episodes 10 & 11, and reading the eponymous (German) poem.)
...
(**Spoilers below**)
This review is, in essence, reactive. While I am prioritizing aspects I found fascinating, I am also addressing banal criticism and steering clear of obvious merits which have already been expounded upon at length (e.g. Kurama's development). Needless to say, I am not attempting to give a holistic review. Now, let's begin:
It's difficult to interpret the characterization and thematic elements as I'm often unable to tell what's intended or not.
Is Yuka's love supposed to be viewed as obsessive? Why isn't this explored? Is it better left ambiguous?
She spent merely a few days hanging out with Kouta as a child, yet over the course of eight years he has remained her primary romantic interest. To the show's credit, Kouta is never depicted as the instigator in their "romantic" moments, and he never displays any passionate interest in Yuka. Towards the end of the show, Yuka herself ponders whether her expectations are abnormal, unrealistic, and unfair to Kouta.
In a medium rife with inauspicious violations of show-don't-tell, I was pleasantly surprised by this romantic subplot. In a generous interpretation, the audience is purposefully misled into expecting and accepting at face value such an utterly ridiculous relationship, amplified by the repeatedly drawn parallels to Yuka and Kouta as the mother and father of Maple House, only to have these fault-finding expectations subverted by Kaede and Kouta's sudden fervent expression of mutual desire.
I can't tell if the nudity is fanservice, because in almost every case in which it occurs, it is profoundly unerotic.
Is the contrast between the facade of fanservice and all the violence and gore supposed to be a commentary on fanservice in anime in general, in how it defuses tension, breaks immersion, and provokes a sense of disgust? Is the nudity, resigned to such a sterile presentation, a reflection of the scientists' animalistic treatment of the definitively human diclonius?
I find it hard to believe the creators would intend a bloody and delimbed plain-looking yet horned and pink-haired 16-17 year old having her clothes torn off accidentally in a semi-telekinetic catfight to be sexually appealing; although perhaps I'm underestimating the depravity of the early aughts anime community. That being said, I still consider the inclusion of such excessive nudity to be undesirable.
And then there's Mayu. A common criticism I see levied at Elfen Lied is that her molestation is played for shock value, as the effects of such psychological trauma are not explored and her past is never revisited. This isn't completely true though, as Mayu does chime in at one point when the gang is discussing Nana (iirc), suggesting that she may not have any place to call home, a callback to Mayu's own homelessness after fleeing her abuser.
Also, addressing this sort of trauma in itself becomes a cliche; it's expected that any character shown to have such a background will undergo some sort of related on-screen development, but to have Mayu achieve a happy and (relatively) stable family structure not only confronts this topic, but does so in a much more original and clever fashion.
Elfen Lied is commonly referred to as a harem, and, indeed, the primary cast consists of a bland but beloved boy surrounded by girls; however, only two of the female characters are ever infatuated with Kouta, and (arguably) both of these hypothetical pairings are portrayed as deviant. Kaede savagely dismembered and decapitated Kouta's sister and father in front of him as deliberate retribution out of jealousy for his relationship with Yuka, who herself has remained enamoured with the 10 year old boy she met one time eight years ago.
We are told that the Diclonius, as a rite of passage, a ritual usage of their alien powers, savagely murder their own parents, yet none of the Diclonius with whom the audience is introduced actually do so; in fact, they treat their parental figures with inexplicable reverence, despite Kurama, the father figure to both Mariko and Nana, being complicit in (and actively contributing to) their unfathomably cruel upbringing.
Elfen Lied is a veritable sea of contradictions. Whether this is indicative of designed ambiguity or indolent writing I cannot say.
There are some unobjectionable negatives I can derive from Elfen Lied:
The animation has aged poorly. The pacing sucks. The OST leaves much to be desired.
Furthermore, the behavior of children in this show is entirely unrealistic.
The idea that several ~10 year olds would excitedly engage in the murder of a puppy using repeated blunt force trauma to make a girl with horns sad is ridiculous. I doubt the typical Japanese orphanage consists of posse(s) of vindictive young Jeffrey Dahmers.
Perhaps Japanese culture is distinct in this regard, but Kaede's backstory relies on the assumption that two ~10 year old children of different gender hanging out together is romantic (and Kouta reaffirms the supposed universality of Kaede's assumption by assuming she is making such an assumption).
To properly grasp this work, we must contextualize it — within its time, its inspirations, its intentions. It is necessary to start with the bare minimum, to establish a certain foundation of knowledge, to uncover the *cogito ergo sum* of this critically lambasted creation.
* The source material is genuinely terrible. If the anime is muddled and disjointed, the manga is transparently incoherent.
* The manga is an ecchi, through and through.
* The director held certain elements of the manga with disdain. He aspired to make the show somewhat critically worthwhile, to take the story in a more serious direction.
* The anime ending differs significantly from the manga ending.
* The anime was forced into a much shorter runtime; as such, it was unable to conclude several plotlines, several more were rushed, and several plausible character arcs were never touched upon.
* The director disliked Yuka's role (of prominence, I assume) in the manga
I'm not here to convince you of some particular numerical value with which you ought to associate Elfen Lied. I'm just presenting interpretations and information for your own application.
All in all, this show was exceptionally flawed yet profoundly original. I would much rather engage with a work that strives to sail into the great unknown, to perhaps flail and falter on its journey over the horizon, than travel the same well-worn path, peddling acceptable mediocrity to uncaring consumers.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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