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Totsukuni no Shoujo tells the tale of a young girl and her otherworldly guardian living amidst of a forlorn forest. At first glance, their life together is harmonious and their relationship heartwarming; on further inspection however, something seems off…

It is hard to shake the sense of eeriness arising from the black-and-white juxtaposition of the young girl and her guardian whose behaviour strikes one as rather odd: during the early sequences of their everyday life he seems to frantically avoid any form of physical contact with the girl, instead opting for workarounds that do not require touching her.

The origin of his peculiar behaviour is slowly unravelled ... over the course of the following few scenes: the guardian suffers from a curse that turns every living being he touches into a dark and wretched monster. The mostly muted color palette dominated by dark shades of grey suggests that the origin of this infliction may be the outside world, though nothing is explicitly stated.

The effect this curse has on the protagonists is explored through experimental means: the girls tries to flee from her fear by escaping into her dreams; a wonderful dreamland accentuated by a serene assortment of strings brings her piece of mind, but it quickly turns into a nightmarish dark desert as the curse coursing through her guardian turns her into a monster as well.

Though that isn’t to say that their relationship receives a sinister undertone—in fact it is quite the opposite: knowledge of the curse’s nature recontextualizes the odd behaviour of the guardian and reveals the depth of love and care going into his everyday interactions with the girl, as well as his personal tragedy of being unable to hold those he holds dear. While he may have seemed like an enigma at first, it becomes clear that he is compassionate and does his best to fulfill his duties as the girl’s guardian—however inadequate he may be.

The depth of his attachment to the girl is displayed beautifully when the girl vanishes from the living room: in a state of panic and great emotional distress, he runs around frantically as his vision grows distorted and colorless.

From the jittering shading and outlines to the high-impact black-and-white slow motions and experimental sequences—Director Kubo’s fingerprints are all over the work. The restrictions of the source material’s narrative keep him from becoming self-indulgent however, and the integration of his style is purposeful and seamless. The framework of the narrative allows him to bridge the gap between his usual experimentation and genuine emotion, making this his first opus.

At the same time, Kubo displays directorial prowess at handling narrative works: the storyboards are consistent, showcasing his proficiency at capturing a wide range of emotion as well as proving his eye for impactful and engaging shot composition. Though it is the first of his projects to have characters with a personality, he makes great use of animation as a tool for characterization. This work puts him on the map as one of the names to look out for in the coming decade.

This short is a clear contender for anime of the year—a feat rarely achieved by works of similar length. It is experimental and poignant, with great production values throughout. This one is for everyone.

The world of experimental shorts is generally left unexplored by a large part of the community. And even among the few looking for obscure content, a great many of these shorts will remain "heard of" but ultimately untouched, with only a few notable exceptions. This may be because word of mouth and exploring for yourself are really the only ways to find some of the gems hidden in the rubble, or because people aren't all that interested in these experimental but oftentimes meaningless works to begin with.

Calm is no different, offering only an ambiguous two-act daydream rather than a fleshed-out narrative and a faceless, nameless ... girl as the main character. There is no dialogue nor character development to speak of, and thematically it is a barren wasteland. So what does it do different than other shorts and why is it worth watching? The answer lies in the title.

One of Calm's greatest strengths is that it is stripped of all pretense: it aims to do nothing but offer a calm atmosphere with a tinge of eeriness, and it does so for all of its seven minute runtime. From the very beginning, the constant light flickering of the images and the yellowing of the screen evoke a sense of nostalgia as the viewer is transported into the girl's daydreams.

In the following few minutes, sequences of evolution, the girl turning into a bird creature and flying through the skies, turning into a dolphin and swimming across the ocean, traversing planes of chizzled lines in the short's usual handpainterly smudgy style of animation—generally strange but mesmerizing images create an atmosphere of calm. Meanwhile, the minimalist soundtrack consisting of mainly guitars and a synthesizer put one into a state of trance.

But as the day draws to a close, the tone shifts. The sequences of evolution turn into sequences of decay. The once bright colors make way for an overpowering red, as a heavy piano and strange beeping sounds suppress the former minimalist song. Where there once was fantasy there now is an estranging feeling of loneliness. The girl begins to fly once again, but this time over a dark and empty city. The strange noises become ever stronger, creating a growing sense of unease, as finally the sun goes down and the dream fades.

In just under seven minutes, Calm manages to evoke a number of feelings effectively and concisely. It does just what it set out to do and doesn't overstay its welcome. It doesn't accomplish any great feat and is far from life-changing, but it is beautiful in its own kind of way. To those of you who are lovers of the experimental and don't mind something being insubstantial so long as it is poignant and unique, I wholeheartedly recommend this short. Those of you who prefer sticking to more conventional works with some sort of takeaway probably won't like this one as much, but feel free to watch it if you will. It's only seven minutes anyway.

To Mrs. Sa——, Leiden.
Leidenschaftlich, Dec. 11th, 17––.



You will rejoice to hear that the war has officially ended. Your brother is truly relieved to finally be able to breathe freely again; my fellow citizens, too, let out a collective sigh of relief. The alleys are filled with a comfortable bustle like they used to be; people’s faces don’t display a worrisome gloom anymore. Businesses are booming throughout the whole town and your brother, too, has found a place of employment in a mail and ghostwriting company. There, it is my job to deliver the letters ghostwritten by our so-called Auto Memory Dolls—women who listen to one’s ... inquiries and needs for a written letter and put one’s feelings to paper.

During my time working here, I have come into contact with many of the aforementioned dolls; and one of these women in particular piqued my interest: with her elegant, golden hair and doll-like demeanor, she fits the job perfectly, and she used to act the part just as well. However, what interested me about her the most wasn’t her looks but rather the fact that she had many stories to tell, be it from house calls or other, similar events.

To be honest, the stories themselves weren’t all too intriguing. It may be because I’ve lived through several years of war, but many of them felt like something I had heard before, had seen before. While the fates of these people are definitely cruel and while I really wish they had met a better fate, I can’t help but think of the many who have fallen in war. Thus, the stories of these people whom I’ve never met don’t leave as much of an impression on me as they might have used to; while hearing this beautiful woman describe equally beautiful sights and sceneries brings with it a certain feeling of tranquility, they aren’t what makes these stories interesting.

What does make these stories interesting aren’t the stories themselves, but how they affect the one experiencing and—later—telling them. She used to be a child soldier unable of speaking, reading or human emotion. Trained as nothing more than a weapon of war, her doll-like demeanor stems not from indifference, but her time as a soldier. Due to her unusual character, she ran into trouble trying to extract the emotions out of the client’s words, but over time she learned how to understand these feelings and, most importantly, how to feel, herself.

Sometimes, upon reciting what had happened just a few days prior, her feelings slowly welled up inside, to then finally overflow. Suddenly, she learned how to smile, laugh and cry; she learned of emotion and empathy. These unadulterated feelings coming from someone formerly unable to feel moved me to my very core every time; it was during these everyday epiphanies of hers that I felt like I was really watching something grow, giving shape to a human rather than a husk.

However, newfound feelings are both a blessing and a curse. They may make life more interesting and worth living, but at the same time they can accumulate and overwhelm a person—even more so someone hitherto engaged in the cruelty of war as she was. After realizing what she had done, she slowly gave in to sadness and sorrow. Her cold, metallic hands that killed so many, her blood-stained self burdened with guilt—they started a fire, engulfing her. Her state of mind turned into a complete chaos; she decided to strangle herself with her abhorrent hands and end it all, but she failed.

What saved her was a mere letter, this one sole letter I slipped through under her door. Filled with the feelings of her colleagues who missed her dearly, this letter saved her from her sorrow and herself. It let her reflect on what she had done: both her misdeeds in war and her profession, which brought together and still connects so many. Her actions might be irrevocable—but that isn’t a bad thing. Her burn marks may never heal, but really, they don’t need to. After realizing this simple truth, she learned to accept herself and finally became a complete person.

Looking at her now, I can’t help but feel a somber sadness. Her metallic hands that killed so many and her brooch which reminds of the loved one she lost in war—they make me feel melancholy. Just like the eponymous flower, Violet Evergarden is beautiful. While the stories she tells might not be as impactful as intended, her own very much makes up for it. Once you come visit me, I shall relay it to you whole.



Yours, Roland.

(Score: 65)

A shrill. As he stretches to fight the leftover sluggishness of a satisfying sleep, he decides to step out on the balcony. The warm wind of a mellow morning slowly brushes past his fragile frame as if greeting him friendly. The sunshine reflects from the river just beneath the railing; a lustrous shimmer signals the change of seasons. He leaves the apartment. A lot has changed over the past year: his listless demeanor is all but gone; he has made friends and acquaintances—he isn’t alone any more. His steps have become strong and determined. He has moved on.

This show is not about him. Just like ... Rei, it has moved on from the times of subdued, somber sadness; there is another storm brewing in the distance. Unannounced, but with utter and immediate intensity, the current changes as the happy-go-lucky Hinata gets home one evening: her face is pale, her expression pained; tears start a sinister stream. There is bullying going on in Hinata’s class. After fighting for and protecting the previous victim Chiho who has since left the school, the bullies shifted targets towards her. She knows she did nothing wrong, that what she did was in fact right—but it doesn’t stop her stomach from aching nor her heart from breaking. During a crucial time in Hinata’s life, she is left alone, being ignored by former friends and classmates, utterly isolated. With bullying, there is no easy way out; just one obstacle in the form of a weak-willed teacher is enough to create rips and ripples, all of which reflect, add, and cancel each other out—resulting in complete chaos.

In face of a problem near impossible for an outsider to resolve, her family and Rei do their best to help: Rei tries to repay the debt of Hinata and her sisters saving his life from dreariness and depression in a misled attempt to rack up money; Akari on the other hand views Hinata’s well-being as a responsibility relayed to her by her late mother—a responsibility too big for her to carry. Both of them fail to accomplish their goals and experience what to them seems like an indisputable defeat. However, this assessment based on the self-centered and self-serving assumption that one can do anything if one tries couldn’t be further off; their so-called failures led to them spending time with Hinata, listening to her. When she ran away, Rei ran after her; in times of sorrow, she found solace in a soothing and supportive home that let her smile again. Was it not for these small everyday gestures, for friends and family supporting her no matter how ferocious or frantic her feelings, she could not have persevered. They didn’t fail. They did well.

The ripples may wane but they never vanish, Hinata and Chiho might never fully recover—but in the end, these blemishes are part of what makes a human: they add another layer to their characters, dreams, ambitions and passions, to their relationship with family, friend and foe and add context to their everyday actions. As these values accumulate, they give form not to a character, but something greater. All of these people have their own stories to tell, some of which we may never hear of; their stories intermingle and paths cross, branching off and meeting up again—sometimes. Some days, the torrents may grow harsh, but other times may bring with them a friendly flux; some of the tributaries may meet a dead end earlier than expected, others may follow along the river of life and flow until they are released into the deep, dark ocean.

Consequentially, the further one coasts along, the more colleagues and communities one will lose to such bifurcations. For a person such as Kishou Yanagihara, there are no more people to lose: all of his former friends and rivals have thrown in the towel, and as they pass on what is left of their hope and passion for the sport, they also pass on from the world of shogi. Struggling against sickness and fatigue, this burden weighs down heavy on the eldest active shogi player’s frame: their sashes seem suffocating, and like a farmer staring at the remnants of a burnt field, he has no one and nowhere left to turn to. However, just like the farmer he knows that this desolate and depressing wasteland will soon give rise to a new mellow-looking meadow, fertile and fruitful. He catches on fire: his burning passion paints the picture of a haunting human torch slowly burning to cinder and as his fiery fighting spirit overtakes his self-doubt, he finally comes to terms with the fact that life moves on… even if he won’t let go just yet.

The show moves on, its natural flow harboring both healing and heartbreak; their paths continue to cross and their stories to intermingle. And as the pieces fall into place, they give rise to an unparalleled display of life and humanity, poignant and personal. March comes in like a Lion sets a new standard not just for Slice-of-Life as a genre, but for storytelling itself.

Score: 100

Youth.
Often called the springtime of one’s life, one’s days of adolescence are a time of many firsts: the first time you skip class without your parents knowing, the first time you go on a journey with no destination and maybe even your first love. It is during these days that the innocent and inexperienced bundles of insecurities that are teenagers finally break out of their shells and the small buds turn into full-fledged adults.

Or at least they should.

Unfortunately, such is not the case for the gung-ho goofball Mari: when she finds an old notebook filled with scribbles of her past self’s wishes for her high ... school days, she can’t help but cry. She wanted to gain the most out of youth and have fun every day, but she did none of these things. Instead, she secluded herself in a shell and was satisfied with an uneventful everyday life; she recognizes that she’s been scared this whole time, and she decides to make a change.

Shortly after the fact, she makes acquaintance with Shirase, a girl seemingly obsessed with Antarctica. She is the polar opposite to Mari: hardworking, confident and passionate, but at the same time shy and seclusive. Working dozens of part-time jobs day in day out, she is trying to save money to fulfill her wish and follow in her late mother’s footsteps—to travel to Antarctica.

Both envying and admiring Shirase’s strength to follow her dreams even when faced with constant mockery by her classmates, Mari decides to join up with her, and thus their journey to Antarctica begins… with a rejection by the expedition group. However, the both of them aren’t giving up just yet: they try to persuade the expedition leaders time and time again, encountering Hinata, the social but secretive high school dropout, and Shiraishi, the sheltered, expedition trip-engaged quasi-idol who invites the protagonists as her first friends along the way.

Aboard the ship, their collective antics take center stage; whether as a variety of fun facial expressions, their rock–paper–scissors shtick or massacring each other with water guns in the bathtub (which, of course, my mother walked in on), they all manage to put a smile on one's face. However, the journey isn’t all fun and games: food needs to be prepared and their bodies strengthened.

Their way is filled with many adversities: an exhilarating chase around the block, skipping school to traverse nearly the whole country by train and losing their tickets for the plane. Everyone ridiculed and tormented their dream, but they never gave up. The moment they enter Antarctica is nothing short of magical. After enduring many daunting hardships, they release their pent-up frustration and resentment for their tormentors—because they did it.

That isn’t to say they were harmonious at all times. All of these girls are at a tender age during which one might not always make sense. They engage in conflict over silly things; they sob just as much as they snicker, but that’s completely fine. Adolescence marks a time during which one undergoes major changes and grows as a person; one is allowed to act irrational, to act out and to cry. They are allowed to hold larger-than-life speeches and hide things that should rather not be hidden—and they do. These characters fail on a constant basis, but all their falling-outs and mistakes help them grow as people and form even deeper bonds of genuine friendship. It is during these moments that their weaknesses and wounds take center stage: their held-back feelings are finally allowed to pour out in brilliant displays of audiovisual character-acting culminating in scenes that are utterly heartrending.

SoraYori is about adventure, the fun and hardships of youth, and the inexperienced growing and overcoming the hurdles life might hold. By successfully interweaving the dreams and ambitions of adolescence, it builds an exhilarating and touching experience reminiscent of one’s youthful years.

Score: 80

The sun is setting. The cold breezes that brushed through the yellow-green grass just a few minutes earlier have left the plains. In front of a small camping tent, Rin is comfortably seated in a folding chair, reading a book. A while has passed and she decides to put down her warm cup of cocoa, close her book and stretch; a puff of breath turns into a small cloud and slowly fades away. She looks at her surroundings: a huge, empty field of grass, a small forest and a clear view of a Mt. Fuji tinted in a friendly pink. Rin is on another of ... her lonesome weekendly winter camping trips. During the coldest season, she fancies spending some time alone in the quiet areas of Japan—on camping sites usually uncrowded during the winter.

During her trips, she spends a lot of time exploring the camping grounds; in midst of beautifully drawn, colorful sceneries, she follows intricately painted pathways in search for the stunning sights of an everyday beauty of nature perfectly evoked by the show’s wonderful visuals. Whether she ends up exploring the campsites, the colorful forests of early winter, taking pictures of funny-looking statues or just sitting in her chair relaxing, it doesn’t really matter; she just wants to spend some time on her own enjoying nature. Apart from camping, she doesn’t have any predominant interests or hobbies, and while she does truly love her friends and enjoys spending time with them, this pastime is something she truly needs: a breather, so to speak.

It comes as no surprise when she turns down an invitation to join her school’s camping club; it’d go against the purpose of her camping trips. And really, that’s completely okay. Her friends understand. While they may not truly grasp her feelings, they respect her desire to camp on her own without pressing further. This comes as kind of a surprise initially: in general, the members of the camping club are very energetic and gung-ho; seeing these characters which one might initially pass off as everyday anime idiots act like sensitive, genuine human beings and friends is truly, truly refreshing. Rin and them couldn’t be more different: Chiaki and Aoi often indulge in weird jokes or pranks, and while their love for camping is definitely genuine, so is their aversion to spending even a single penny on actually acquiring necessary utensils. Nadeshiko on the other hand is very much a simpleton—a hyperactive, hyperhappy and hyperhungry simpleton. It’s not only the members of the camping club who differ from Rin (whose camping trips aren’t as quiet and calming as Rin’s); the three horse around and have fun. Instead of appreciating the quiet and nature, they just want to spend time and camp together as a group of friends.

Due to the cast and the camping trips covering such a wide spectrum, the otherwise rather monotonous-sounding activity of winter camping can offer a variety of different, but always pleasant and comfy experiences. And while Rin and her friends may be apart when camping (well, most of the time), they are never out of touch: during their camping trips they regularly message or call each other and send the others photos of the camping sites they visit. They indulge in mindless but fun chats about food or the weather and it feels completely genuine. But not only do these small chats serve to make the character’s relationships feel real, they also help the otherwise standalone camping trip segments connect to the rest of the show to form a cohesive whole; while the general moods of Rin’s camping trips and the camping club horsing around are completely different, they still feel like parts of the same show, not fragments of a greater whole.

It isn’t just these small conversations between the group and Rin that creates the feeling of unity between every single scene. Yuru Camp’s soundtrack consists of very few songs which, while usually a negative, works well for what the show is trying to accomplish. The tracks are all very simple, but they sell their respective scenes perfectly through equally simple means: a short, repeated trill in the lead guitar is enough to sell the relaxing camping atmosphere; a change from a dominant guitar to flutes can be mystifying and create a sense of exploration; and a calm vocal song is enough to sell the most intimate of togetherness. It won’t earn any medals or prizes, but the soundtrack does just what it’s supposed to, and that’s just what you want for an equally simple and relaxing show such as Yuru Camp.

Be it Rin’s appreciation for the quiet and nature, the lively and fun friendship of the camping club or their genuine and heartwarming relationships—there is much to love in this soothing show. Yuru Camp may seldom stray off the beaten path, but it doesn’t need to, for it is a comfy and lighthearted experience through and through.

However, if you decide to join in on the fun please keep in mind that while camping…

- Always mind the campsite and facility rules
- Don’t forget to clean up fires and take your trash!
- It gets cold during the winter. Stay warm and be well-prepared!!
- Have fun :)

Score: 75

*Royalty-free fanfare*

What is up Trash Alert Nation? It’s your host PizzaOnPineapple and let’s get roigggght into the review!

The first topic today will be kind of shocking to many of you: recently, there has been a large increase of buddhists among young, lonely adults that spend all of their free time in their room watching anime. While there doesn’t yet seem to be a clear answer to the question as to why that is, many experts have formed a consensus: the reason is this movie!

How this could happen, you ask? It’s simple really. These innocent young men were tricked into watching this piece of buddhist propaganda! ... How it works is pretty simple: they created a movie loosely related to an already established, popular anime franchise and made it so boring that all onlookers would immediately fall into a deep state of endless meditation!

As such, the movie is a piece of pure genius - nothing could accomplish its goal quite like the movie itself - but today I wish to explore exactly how and why this movie is so mindnumbingly boring and life-draining. Please fasten your seatbelts, but know that nothing will happen!

Exhibit 1: The world is really not developed at all.
All the movie really does is show us some locations without ever connecting or contextualizing any of it. Instead of exploring the world and the giant war taking place, they rather jump from place to place without any explanation as to why or where the characters are going. The good thing is you can’t possibly lose track of what is happening, because nothing really is.

Exhibit 2: The characters are really not developed at all.
The two main characters are the only ones with more than one character trait, because they have two, but that’s as far as this movie goes. If you are looking for character motivations, character development, or just characters really, then you have come to the wrong place. The development of the romantic relationship of the main characters is actually non-existent. All they do is “play chess” for like four times, but these matches aren’t actually really shown. In the end, Jibril turns up as a villain for fanservice reasons but it doesn’t matter as she barely contributes anything to the overall piece and just props up randomly. The emotional moments connected to this finale however don't pull any punches - because there are no punches to be pulled. All in all, this movie is as heavy-hitting as an old woman without arms. All it amounts to is a pity-party for this cute robot girl (please cry).

Exhibit 3: Literally one of the least visually engaging experiences ever.
I don’t know why people say this movie looks amazing. It really, really doesn’t. All it is is still shots, some panning shots and one disoriented fight. While the special effects themselves look cool, that’s really all they are: kind of cool. Sadly, there is no actual impact behind these glorified laserpointers, mostly because I have no fucking idea who these people or where these places are. It’s like they skipped several steps in pre-planning. There is a similar problem present in the audio department too: Oftentimes there’s just ambient noise, and the few times the music gets “dramatic”, it sounds really shallow, like a Hans Zimmer track but three quarters of the orchestra fell asleep mid-movie (I don’t blame them, I dozed off several times as well).

Exhibit 4: All they do is talk, talk, talk.
If you think there’s games or a war in this movie, you are sorely mistaken. All that this movie is is dialogue, monologue, dialogue and so forth. This dialogue is not of the sophisticated kind however, we go from recounting the names of dead people to scenes that will definitely put you on the lists of several governmental organizations, directly to the n-th time the two main characters tell you their goal (I wanted to count but lost track).
By the way, did you know the robot girl wants to understand the human heart? Isn’t this MOVING, please buy her merch.

Currently, experts are looking into ways of saving the millions of people caught in never-ending meditation, but a cure has yet to be found. Please watch this movie only with parental supervision (and get disowned).

In other news, Sword Art Online is receiving a th-

Score: 10 (out of 100)

The Night is Short is a movie of contradiction: its events are chaotic but organized, held in closed groups which all intermingle; the night is short, yet spans an eternity. And at the very center of it all, one raven-haired maiden leads the way.

This girl - a free-spirited and optimistic woman in her early twenties - serves as the movie’s driving force and a foil to everyone around her. Stumbling from party to party, she unites groups of people which at first glance seem to have no connection, but are all related in one way or another. She brings joy to those glooming over a ... distant future and the time rushing by simply through appreciating the present and what is - not what could be. And no matter what opportunity presents itself to her, she seizes it, thus preventing the festive train of events from derailing and allowing for the events to stay diverse but never confusing.

Opposite to her stands everyone else.
Her lovestruck and eponymous Senpai is a daydreamer: he keeps taking roundabout ways and plotting numerous silly coincidences to gain the attention of his love interest; he believes in a magic item that will gain her affection - without ever actually putting himself out there or getting to know her. Throughout the film, he learns to take action in an embarrassingly grandiose fashion, but fails miserably… or at least he thinks he does. In reality, while he gives in to gloom, the sweet seeds of love have already been sown, and will - thanks to his love interest’s simple nature - slowly but surely spring into bloom.

However, while their love story functions as the movie’s foundation, the juxtaposition of the optimistic and opportunistic raven-haired maiden and the pessimistic and cynical old Rihaku builds its thematic cornerstone. While Rihaku views the Fake Denki Bran as a failure for not replicating the original drink’s characteristics, the girl simply appreciates its taste; while he keeps an enormous collection of books all to himself, damaging the natural connection of the books, she disperses the collection and repairs their connection. Rihaku believes himself to be all alone, that noone has any connection and everything is acquirable through money, thus superficial. The girl serves as his mirror, proclaiming proudly that everyone is bound to each other in the end, that he is definitely not alone.

Their opposing ideas are conveyed simply but beautifully through the use of light instrumentation on the girl’s side and a heavy trombone for Rihaku, both of which while first separated in their own segments, begin playing alongside each other as they engage in direct discourse. It isn’t only during these moments where the soundtrack impresses however: be it a musical number, running to one’s love or just the opening to a drinking battle, the brass-instrument-heavy orchestral soundtrack almost always delivers.

But while the soundtrack does disappoint a few times during the movie’s run, the visuals never do. Colors are Yuasa’s best friends and it definitely shows: be it simple things such as temperature of drinks and food, the over-the-top antics of the protagonists, dream-like adventure sequences or heartwarming moments - he completely nails all of it! During the whole film, he uses the red of the protagonist’s dress as signal color for many key objects like the red string that needs to be cut to repair the connection of the used books and the recurring daruma who supports the optimistic nature of the film. Through the use of such key colors and great shot composition, he creates many beautiful pictures, and an equally beautiful movie with it.

The Night is Short is wholly optimistic and simplistic. Led by the tracks laid out to them by fate, the protagonists stumble from one insane incident to another, without ever derailing from their wacky antics. Their sheer energy may seem overwhelming, but at the center lies one simple truth: Everyone is connected. You aren’t alone.

Score: 90

Strolling through a grey and barren wasteland, two girls are on a journey. Rations are their only food, each other's company their only comfort and a Kettenkrad motorbike and a protect rifle their only partners. This is a story about a post-apocalyptic future, cultures lost in war and appreciating the little things in life.

Few future settings display the thoughtfulness present in Girl’s Last Tour: war has, multiple times, left its mark on Earth and humanity. The numerous layers of the forsaken and metallic city tell tales of many civilizations long gone; their technology gradually grows more sophisticated and the cityscape more complex by the layer. ... Their different religious beliefs, or lack thereof, as well as their different perceptions of beauty are ingrained in them: some show idealistic symmetry spread evenly throughout, others are dominated by religious symbols resembling a progressed Christianity. However, their god seems more like an alien creature possibly playing a central role in mankind’s long history of war…

The themes and background of the show allow for contemplation and its war-ridden lands give ground for cynical criticism of war, but Girl’s Last Tour is not at all about nihilism, the cruelty of war or the dangers of technological advancement. With overpowering optimism and gratitude for life, it avoids dwelling on many of its philosophically potent and open-ended questions through the sheer simplicity of its appreciation for the here and now; there is solace in solitude and beauty in company.

It’s hard not to get swept up in the show’s pensive mood, but it is near impossible not to fall in love with the protagonists' fun antics: Yuuri and Chito have amazing chemistry and partaking in their intimacy is a truly soothing experience. The two share a heartwarming bond of love and trust and remind one of simpler days; to take the role of an onlooker is to embrace a heartwarming nostalgia.

Chito is the duo’s brain: she is literate and reliable. Over the years, she has learned to work around Yuuri’s shortcomings and deal with her eccentricities. At times, her diplomatic mindset clashes with Yuuri’s air-headedness. However, she has no issue striking back should it get overbearing, for she knows it’s the only way to get through to her dense companion.

In comparison, Yuuri might at first seem like an unpleasant person. She is a glutton, unreliable and at parts overbearingly annoying - but actually a very caring individual. She keeps looking out for Chito and ensures her safety, she is sorry when Chito is hurt and does her best to express her guilt. It is not only her shortcomings that need to be worked around: her partner has serious fear and submits to panic at the blink of an eye. Fortunately, Yuuri always stays supportive of her.

Rusty pipe systems, snow-clad plains filled with weapons of war and desolate temples - the show’s landscape is empty and its designs range from simple to highly complex. The dark, barely saturized, grey color palette only changes during dreams and revelations. Unlike one might initially assume, the empty and wistful world radiates a romantic feeling. While it may be devoid of nature and has no ecosystem to speak of, the countless tales told by the cityscape itself more than make up for it. The bubbly moe character designs help alleviate the central juxtaposition of the cold world and the comforting company of the two protagonists (and whomever they might meet along the way).

Such sparse environment rarely allows for much movement to take place, but through dosated usage of CG the show enables engaging camerawork and alleviates the overall experience. The CG itself does unfortunately not hold up to the gorgeous and detailed look of the hand-drawn backgrounds but it in turn allows the explosive scenes to benefit from the momentum achievable through animation - and they look great!

The show’s solid visuals are accompanied by both upbeat and melancholic music. In insert songs, the vocalist creates a great feeling of departure encompassing an euphoric mood and a grieving goodbye. On the other hand, the Opening and Ending songs excel through their sheer musical simplicity. They embrace modern electronic music and pop culture (the moonwalk and even dabbing), depicting and enhancing the fun shenanigans of the two girls and their endless journey.

Due to its metallic landscape, the soundscape of the show mostly consists of industrial sounds: petrol engines, gunfire and cold, metallic echoes dominate, and their prevalence is only trumped by the two girls’ dialogue.

Girls’ Last Tour is lighthearted and emotionally poignant; it excels through simplicity and thoughtfulness, but never dwells on the latter. The juxtaposition of its thematically dense but desolate cityscape and the intimacy of the main duo create a melancholically wholesome experience and make it one of the best shows of the year.

Score: 85

Note: This review contains minor spoilers.

Urahara is a highly entertaining joyride rich in craze and color. However, its inexperienced staff fails to blend its creative concepts in a cohesive fashion.

Set in Harajuku, the show does a great job at adopting the district’s zany culture. It celebrates art and creativity, both of which are sought after by the Scoopers - the alien invaders threatening to steal all of Earth’s culture and creativity. What initially seems like trivial tale of weekly mahou shoujo-esque monster-of-the-week turns out to be a commentary on what constitutes creativity and the relation of artist and popularity. The transition between the two may ... have been aptly foreshadowed, but still ends up feeling rushed and jarring; the second half puts a nice bow on the show as a whole, but the surprisingly cruel twists end up clashing with its overall silliness.

However, that is not to say that the show doesn’t stay entertaining at all times.
The monster-of-the-week format of the first half is carried by its short and simple, but smart fights. Enemies are first examined and their weak points determined, the main trio then acts accordingly. Be it abusing a certain vulnerable time frame, luring a horde scattered throughout the town to one place, or just simple combat techniques - the diverse Scoopers and the great coordination of the protagonists makes the fights wholly enjoyable.
The messier second half on the other hand is mostly carried by the great foreshadowing of the first few episodes. Hidden in plain sight, it’s easy to miss these hints, but they serve as the cornerstones necessary to hold the plot together:

The inhabitants of Harajuku are shown fleeing from the district; until the bubble surrounding the city due to the girl’s wish appears, there are no people in sight. When the people then showing up in the city are first shown, they are depicted as shadows - not as people.

Episode 1 first shows the key plot twist without any context - we are then introduced to the colorful culture of Harajuku.
However, the paneling and camerawork suggests that what is shown on screen is actually the view of a rather important onlooker.
The clownish nature of Park’s peculiar visitor also reminds of another character introduced just a few minutes later.
Through these subtle hints, which at first seem rather irksome than meaningful, the later plot is already laid out in the first handful minutes of the show’s runtime.

Sadly, this subtleness isn’t at all present in the rest of the show. Rather, it often resorts to indiscreet infodump dialogue to e.g. characterize its protagonists. However, there are moments when these introduced character traits are used to great effect, especially pertaining Mari’s anxieties.

Therein lies one of Urahara’s major strengths: in the second half, the character’s minor traits and weaknesses are exposed and exploited while serving as cornerstone for the parallel narrative of artist and popularity. While initially the protagonist trio seems unassumingly simple, they are actually a lot more nuanced than they are made out to be.
The calm and caring Rito first followed her gut feeling; she drew what she felt like drawing. But her art isn’t praised or recognized like other’s is and thus she grows frustrated. However, when Mari and Kotoko praise her art and she is granted the opportunity to sell her art and be recognized, she grows dependant on the two and their praise.
On the contrary, Mari has copied other people’s art; she follows trends and copies the vogue - and she gets praised for it. She also grows dependent on praise and popularity, but wishes to keep up her appearance as self-confident designer, which results in ever-growing anxiety and her eventually being broken by the illusion of losing her followers.
Kotoko’s curiosity, often highlighted through cat-like appearance, led to others being annoyed and disgusted by her urge to discover. Unable to suppress or express her curiosity, she grows insecure about annoying or talking to other people. She also ends up finding solace in and depending on their group of three.

The visual style of Urahara oozes creativity; it uses tablecloth as backgrounds and highly-saturized candy colors which paired with the usage of panels instead of new cuts create a colorful and delightful experience. It’s designs are a sight to behold: be it casual clothing, battle suits, Scoopers or Harajuku itself - they are diverse and use a huge repertoire of animation and coloring techniques to underline important characteristics and create an amazing visual experience.
Unfortunately, whatever excitement might stem from its gorgeous designs, Urahara is often sparingly animated - at times even lazily so. During important scenes in the second half, the lackluster animation completely ruins all immersion and dampens what should have been the show’s high point.

But it is not only during the dramatic scenes that Urahara fails - the music and sound effects are mediocre and straight-up misplaced all the way throughout the show. It restricts itself to generic gleaming sounds and uses dramatic orchestral music when the scenes themselves actually aren’t tense at all. Because of this, the actually tense scenes, playing these very same tracks, feel less special and not as emphasized as they should have been.

Urahara may stumble along the way, but remains an enjoyable watch. However, it is a niche show in a niche medium and as such I only recommend watching if you can look past its childish and amateurish presentation.


Score: 60