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Once again, the creative powerhouse that is Trigger, under the deft guidance of its celebrated in-house director Akira Amemiya, has set its sights on revitalizing yet another iconic series. This time, the studio has turned its attention to Tsuburaya Productions’ cult classic Gridman mecha franchise, breathing new life into a world that resonates deeply with fans of the Tokusatsu genre. Back in Fall 2018, Trigger unleashed SSSS.Gridman, a bold and unexpected triumph that shook up the mecha landscape. The series proved to be a game-changer, demonstrating that even amidst the polarized reception in Western markets—where Tokusatsu often struggles to find widespread appreciation—Japan’s enduring love for ... the genre remains unshaken. The vibrant enthusiasm for all things Tokusatsu in its homeland provided fertile ground for Gridman’s success, paving the way for its highly anticipated sequel. Fast forward to Spring 2021, and Trigger delivered SSSS.Dynazenon, a continuation that, while firmly rooted in the Gridman Universe, boldly carves out its own distinct identity as a standalone adventure.

It’s crucial to approach SSSS.Dynazenon with fresh eyes and an open mind, as it is emphatically not a mere rehash of its predecessor. To view it as just another chapter of Gridman would be to miss the point entirely. Tokusatsu, at its core, has always thrived on the timeless spectacle of colossal robots clashing with the “Kaiju-of-the-week,” a formula that fans cherish for its blend of chaotic action and larger-than-life stakes. Dynazenon embraces this tradition wholeheartedly, weaving the iconic robot-versus-monster battles into the fabric of its world-building. Whether the narrative begins with a touch of absurdity or gradually coalesces into something more coherent, the series never loses sight of what makes Tokusatsu so beloved. Much like Gridman before it, Dynazenon introduces a colorful cast of characters whose everyday lives—steeped in cultural norms and personal struggles—are dramatically upended by the arrival of Kaiju and otherworldly adversaries. For Western audiences, the show’s vibe might evoke the playful, almost nostalgic charm of

For years, Beast Wars Neo languished in relative obscurity, overshadowed by its predecessors in the Transformers franchise. Thanks to the dedicated efforts of Karyuudo Fansubs, both Beast Wars II and Beast Wars Neo have been made accessible to a broader audience, breathing new life into these lesser-known chapters of the Transformers saga. This revival offers fans an opportunity to dive into a unique era of the beloved franchise, one that builds upon the foundation laid by the iconic Beast Wars series while carving out its own distinct identity.

Before embarking on the journey that is Beast Wars Neo, a word of caution: this show is best ... enjoyed by those already familiar with the Transformers universe, particularly fans of the Beast Wars animated series. The narrative and character dynamics assume a baseline understanding of the franchise’s lore, including the eternal conflict between Maximals and Predacons. For optimal enjoyment, I strongly recommend watching Beast Wars II first. Doing so provides critical context, grounding you in the era’s tone, aesthetics, and overarching story, which Beast Wars Neo directly follows. This prequel sets the stage for the events and characters that define Neo, making the transition smoother and the experience more rewarding.

Beast Wars Neo picks up immediately after the climactic conclusion of Beast Wars II. The story centers on Big Convoy, a seasoned Maximal commander tasked with a dual mission: to train a ragtag group of cadets—Break, Longrack, Colada, Stampy, and Heinrad—and to locate the missing Lio Convoy, a key figure from the previous series. Additionally, Big Convoy’s team is charged with recovering the Angolmois energy capsules, powerful artifacts scattered across the universe following Galvatron’s failed attempt to harness their energy for his own destructive ambitions in Beast Wars II. The Angolmois energy, a mysterious and potent force, serves as the central MacGuffin driving the plot, with each episode revolving around the Maximals’ efforts to secure these capsules before their enemies, the Predacons (referred to as Destrons in some contexts), can claim them.

The show’s structure is episodic, often following a predictable yet engaging formula: the Maximals detect a signal indicating the presence of an Angolmois capsule, set out to retrieve it, and inevitably clash with the Predacons, who are equally determined to seize the energy for their own nefarious purposes. Around episode 15, the series introduces a “new character of the week” dynamic, where the pursuit of a capsule coincides with the appearance of a fresh face—often a Maximal or Predacon with a unique transformation or personality. While these introductions can feel like thinly veiled attempts to promote new toys (a common practice in Transformers media), they add variety to the cast and keep the narrative dynamic. This formula, though repetitive at times, provides a comforting rhythm for fans who enjoy the blend of action, humor, and character-driven storytelling that defines the franchise.

While Beast Wars Neo may not reach the heights of its predecessors in terms of plot complexity, animation quality, or sound design, it compensates with a colorful cast of characters that shine as the heart of the series. The interplay between the Maximals and Predacons, as well as the internal dynamics within each faction, offers moments of humor, tension, and growth that make the show memorable despite its flaws. For some, the series may feel like a step down from Beast Wars II—the pacing can drag, and the production values occasionally falter—but as a sequel, it fulfills its role admirably, expanding the universe and delivering a satisfying continuation of the story.

Main Characters

Maximals

Big Convoy: Known as “The One-Man Army,” Big Convoy is a gruff, no-nonsense leader who transforms into a mammoth. Tasked with mentoring a group of inexperienced cadets, he struggles to balance his duties as a commander with the cryptic guidance of Vector Sigma, the Maximal supercomputer, which occasionally prompts him to act in ways that feel out of character. His stoic demeanor hides a deep commitment to his team’s growth and the mission to safeguard the universe.

Longrack: A giraffe Maximal obsessed with discipline and academic excellence, Longrack often prioritizes grades and protocol over practicality. His rigid mindset clashes with his teammates, but his loyalty and determination make him a valuable asset in the field.

Break: A hot-headed penguin Maximal, Break’s short temper frequently lands him in trouble. Despite his impulsive nature, his courage and quick thinking prove essential during battles with the Predacons.

Colada: Transforming into a cobra, Colada is sarcastic and fiercely independent. He prefers working alone, especially when he perceives his teammates as liabilities, but learns to value collaboration over the course of the series.

Stampy: A timid rabbit Maximal, Stampy is initially paralyzed by fear in the face of danger. Through his experiences with the crew, he gradually overcomes his cowardice, discovering inner strength and proving his worth in critical moments.

Heinrad: A laid-back raccoon who transforms into a clock, Heinrad possesses the unique ability to manipulate time—a power he rarely uses to its full potential due to his lazy disposition. His relaxed attitude often frustrates his teammates, but his moments of brilliance make him indispensable.

Navi: The Maximals’ onboard computer AI, Navi provides mission briefings, navigational support, and occasional snark. Her role as the team’s digital guide keeps their operations running smoothly.

Mach Kick: Joining the team mid-series, Mach Kick is an arrogant yet battle-hardened horse Maximal. Haunted by the loss of his previous unit, he brings experience and a touch of melancholy to the group, challenging Big Convoy’s leadership while forging bonds with his new comrades.

Predacons

DNAVI: The Predacons’ eccentric computer AI, DNAVI insists on being addressed by a different name in every interaction, teleporting her allies to the correct location only when properly flattered. Her capricious nature adds a layer of unpredictability to the Predacon operations.

Magmatron: The ambitious Predacon leader, Magmatron dreams of becoming the “Emperor of Destruction” and reviving the lost Planet Dinosaur. His unique triple-beast transformation—Quetzalcoatlus, Giganotosaurus, and Elasmosaurus—allows him to split into three separate forms or combine into a centaur-like hybrid, making him a formidable opponent.

Sling: A dim-witted Dimetrodon, Sling is the Predacons’ resident underdog. Frequently bullied by DNAVI and mocked by his peers, his constant whining belies a surprising resilience that keeps him in the fight.

As a dedicated fan of the Transformers franchise for many years, I can confidently say that Beast Wars II: Super Life-Form Transformers (known as Beast Wars 2 in Japan) stands out as one of the more compelling entries in the vast Transformers universe. This series, a spinoff of the iconic Beast Wars, offers a fresh yet nostalgic take on the beloved saga, blending new characters and a unique setting with ties to the broader Transformers lore. Below, I’ll dive into the show’s premise, characters, art style, tone, and overall appeal, while expanding on why it’s a worthwhile watch for both newcomers and seasoned fans.

Setting and ... Context

Beast Wars II serves as a direct sequel to Beast Wars, set in the distant future of that timeline. It aligns with the Japanese G1 continuity, which includes series like The Headmasters, Super-God Masterforce, Victory, and Zone. This distinguishes it from the Western G1 timeline, particularly ignoring the abbreviated Season 4 of the original Generation 1 series. For fans unfamiliar with the Japanese continuity, terms like “Cybertron” (used for Maximals in Japan) and “Destron” (the Japanese term for Predacons) might feel a bit foreign at first. However, one of the strengths of Beast Wars II is its accessibility—you don’t need to have watched Beast Wars or any other Transformers series to enjoy it. That said, some prior knowledge of the franchise enhances the experience, especially when it comes to understanding the significance of factions, ranks like “Convoy,” or the broader mythology surrounding Cybertron’s endless conflicts.

The story unfolds on Planet Gaia, a lush and vibrant world that serves as the primary battleground. The plot centers around a Maximal crew led by Lio Convoy (also known as Leo Prime), a noble and charismatic leader who holds the prestigious “Convoy” rank, a nod to Optimus Prime’s legacy. The Maximals have pursued the Predacon leader Galvatron—not to be confused with the G1 Decepticon of the same name—to Gaia, where he seeks to harness the mysterious and powerful Angolmois Energy. This energy source drives much of the conflict, as Galvatron’s ambitions threaten the balance of the planet and beyond. Adding a unique twist, two android observers named Artemis and Moon watch over the events on Gaia, offering commentary and occasional comedic relief. Their presence adds a meta layer to the narrative, almost like a Greek chorus, providing insights and quips that enhance the viewing experience.

Tone and Themes

While Beast Wars is known for its darker, more mature tone and complex character arcs, Beast Wars II leans into a lighter, more episodic approach. It’s not devoid of stakes—Galvatron’s schemes and the battles for Angolmois Energy carry weight—but the show balances action with humor and heart. Clever jokes and playful character interactions keep things engaging, making it feel approachable for younger audiences while still appealing to longtime fans. Themes of leadership, loyalty, and the cost of war echo throughout, though they’re presented in a less grim manner than in its predecessor. The show also touches on the idea of seeking peace, as seen with the Insectrons, a group of Cybertronians who fled their war-torn homeworld to escape the endless Maximal-Predacon conflict.

Art Style and Animation

The art style of Beast Wars II marks a significant departure from the 3D CGI animation of Beast Wars. Instead, it embraces traditional 2D animation with a distinctly “cartoony” aesthetic. The character designs are bold and colorful, with exaggerated features that emphasize personality—think wide-eyed expressions and dynamic poses. For some reason, the style occasionally evokes the vibe of Mobile Suit Gundam, perhaps due to the sleek mechanical designs or the way battles are choreographed. While it lacks the groundbreaking CGI polish of Beast Wars, the 2D animation has its own charm, offering fluid action sequences and vibrant environments. Planet Gaia, in particular, is rendered with lush forests, shimmering waters, and otherworldly landscapes that make every episode visually engaging.

Characters

The cast of Beast Wars II is a major highlight, with distinct personalities that shine through in both the Maximal and Predacon factions. Below is a deeper look at the key players:

Maximals

Lio Convoy (Leo Prime): The heart and soul of the team, Lio Convoy embodies the archetypal Transformers leader. Much like G1 Optimus Prime, he’s honorable, compassionate, and serves as a father figure to his crew. His lion beast mode and commanding presence make him instantly iconic, and his resolve to protect Gaia drives the story forward.

Tasmanian Kid: A repaint of Beast Wars’ Snarl, this young Maximal is the reckless, energetic “Hot Shot” of the group (a nod to the Armada character archetype). His impulsive nature and youthful exuberance lead to both comedic moments and growth opportunities, making him a fan favorite.

Bighorn: A bull-themed Maximal with a fiery temper to match, Bighorn is the team’s hothead. His lack of strategic thinking often lands him in trouble, but his brute strength and loyalty make him indispensable. The bull motif is played up for humor, as he charges headfirst into situations—literally and figuratively.

Scuba: The cool-headed counterpart to Bighorn, Scuba is a squid-themed Maximal who exudes calm intelligence. His cleverness often saves the day, and his connection to his cousin Ikard adds a layer of personal stakes to his arc.

When SSSS.Gridman first premiered, it faced a wave of skepticism and lukewarm reception from anime fans. Many dismissed it early on, put off by what seemed like a simplistic premise or uninspired execution in its opening episodes. The initial pacing felt slow, the narrative predictable, and the mix of mundane high school drama with tokusatsu-inspired mecha battles didn’t immediately click for everyone. For some, it appeared to be a nostalgic rehash of the 1993 Denkou Choujin Gridman without much originality. Yet, as the series progressed, it revealed layers of depth, emotional resonance, and creative ambition that transformed it into a standout. By the time the ... final credits rolled, SSSS.Gridman had become not only one of the most memorable anime of its season but a personal favorite of the year—a testament to its ability to defy first impressions and reward patient viewers.
At its core, SSSS.Gridman is a daring blend of genres that shouldn’t work as well as it does. It juxtaposes the quiet, almost slice-of-life rhythm of high school routines with explosive, larger-than-life mecha and kaiju battles. This combination feels precarious, as the grounded moments of teenage angst and interpersonal conflict could easily be overshadowed by the spectacle of giant robots and monsters. Yet, the show strikes a remarkable balance. The slower, character-driven scenes don’t just serve as downtime; they build tension and emotional stakes that amplify the catharsis of the action sequences. The everyday struggles of the characters—friendships strained by misunderstanding, personal insecurities, and the weight of unspoken feelings—feed directly into the high-stakes battles, creating a synergy that makes both halves of the story feel essential. While the mecha elements deliver thrilling visuals, it’s the human drama that leaves a lasting impact, and this review will focus primarily on those quieter, often misunderstood aspects of the series.
The story begins with Yuta Hibiki, a high school student who wakes up with no memories in the home of Rikka Takarada, a sharp-tongued classmate who runs a junk shop with her family. Inside an old computer called Junk resides Gridman, a mysterious Hyper Agent who informs Yuta of a mission to protect the city from kaiju attacks. Alongside their friend Sho Utsumi, they form the Gridman Alliance, battling monsters that threaten their seemingly normal world. On the surface, this setup feels like a straightforward tokusatsu throwback, but the show quickly hints at something deeper. The city itself feels off—claustrophobic, dreamlike, and tinged with an unsettling atmosphere that grows more pronounced with each episode. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that SSSS.Gridman is not just about fighting monsters but exploring themes of connection, isolation, and the blurred line between reality and fantasy.
While Yuta is nominally the protagonist, piloting Gridman in battle, his amnesiac condition limits his engagement with the school-life side of the story. Instead, Rikka emerges as the emotional heart of the series. Her prickly demeanor and sarcastic wit mask a complex inner world, and her arc drives much of the show’s human drama. Rikka’s central conflict revolves around her fractured relationship with Akane Shinjo, the series’ enigmatic antagonist. Akane, a popular girl who creates the kaiju that terrorize the city, presents herself as a villain—manipulative, cruel, and detached. It would be easy for the narrative to paint her as a one-dimensional foe, but SSSS.Gridman refuses to take the simple route. Rikka, unlike the other characters, sees beyond Akane’s antagonistic facade, recognizing the pain and loneliness beneath it. Their history as former friends adds layers of nuance to their interactions, transforming what could have been a standard hero-villain dynamic into a poignant story of reconciliation.
This focus on Rikka and Akane’s relationship is one of the show’s greatest strengths. Rather than treating their emotional struggle as a subplot to the mecha action, SSSS.Gridman gives it equal weight. The animation shines in these moments, with expressive character designs and subtle gestures that convey volumes about their feelings. Whether it’s Rikka’s hesitant outreach or Akane’s guarded vulnerability, the show captures the messy, relatable reality of trying to mend a broken bond. The decision to prioritize this storyline over the spectacle of kaiju battles is bold, especially in a genre often defined by its action. Yet, it’s precisely this choice that elevates SSSS.Gridman above its peers, offering a narrative that resonates on a deeply human level.
Beyond its character work, SSSS.Gridman excels at creating a haunting, immersive atmosphere. From the outset, the world feels subtly wrong. The camera lingers on empty streets, tight alleyways, and overcast skies, fostering a sense of unease. Long pauses and minimal dialogue amplify this tension, inviting viewers to question the nature of the city and its inhabitants. The summer heat feels suffocating, with characters visibly wilting under its weight, while rainy days carry a melancholic heaviness. These environmental details aren’t just aesthetic flourishes—they reinforce the story’s themes of entrapment and disconnection. The soundtrack, composed by Shiro Sagisu, enhances this mood with its understated yet evocative melodies. Moments of silence are as powerful as the music itself, creating a rhythm that mirrors the show’s emotional beats. The opening theme, “UNION” by OxT, and the ending, “youthful beautiful” by Maaya Uchida, are both catchy and thematically rich, while the use of the original Gridman theme, “Yume no Hero,” in the finale delivers a nostalgic gut-punch.
Visually, SSSS.Gridman is a triumph. Studio Trigger’s animation is vibrant and dynamic, particularly in the fight scenes, where Gridman’s battles against kaiju are rendered with a mix of fluid 2D animation and polished CGI. The monsters themselves are creatively designed, each with a distinct personality that reflects Akane’s state of mind. Transformations and combination sequences—hallmarks of the tokusatsu genre—are executed with flair, paying homage to classics like Ultraman while feeling fresh and modern. Yet, the visuals shine just as brightly in quieter moments. Backgrounds are richly detailed, capturing the texture of a small, lived-in town. Character designs, with their bold lines and expressive eyes, convey personality even in still frames. The show’s use of static shots, often criticized as a budgetary shortcut, feels deliberate here, evoking a sense of stasis that mirrors the characters’ emotional states.
The supporting cast adds further depth to the narrative. Sho Utsumi, the everyman of the Gridman Alliance, grounds the group with his relatable perspective, while the eccentric Neon Genesis Junior High Students—a quartet of quirky allies—inject humor and heart into the story. Even minor characters, like the kaiju Anosillus II, leave a lasting impression, with subtle backstories that reward attentive viewers. Akane, in particular, is a fascinating figure. Her role as the creator of the kaiju could have made her a cartoonish villain, but the show humanizes her, revealing the insecurities and despair that drive her actions. This complexity makes her redemption arc—facilitated by Rikka’s persistence—all the more satisfying.
One point of contention among fans is the show’s heavy use of references to the original Gridman and other tokusatsu properties. Some, including animator Masami Obari, argued that SSSS.Gridman leaned too heavily on nostalgia without forging its own path. Indeed, the series is packed with callbacks, from character designs inspired by obscure Transformers to musical cues lifted from the 1990s series. For fans of the original, these nods are delightful fanservice, but they’re woven into the story in a way that doesn’t alienate newcomers. The references enhance the experience without overshadowing the narrative, and the show’s originality shines through in its character dynamics and thematic depth. Ultimately, SSSS.Gridman feels like a love letter to tokusatsu that stands on its own merits.
If there’s a flaw to be found, it’s that the series’ slow start may deter some viewers. The first few episodes prioritize world-building and mystery over immediate payoff, which can feel frustrating for those expecting non-stop action. However, this deliberate pacing serves a purpose, laying the groundwork for the emotional and narrative payoff in the second half. By the time the story’s secrets unravel, every quiet moment and cryptic detail feels justified, rewarding those who stuck with it.
In conclusion, SSSS.Gridman is a rare gem—an anime that takes risks, defies expectations, and delivers a story that’s both thrilling and deeply moving. It’s a testament to Studio Trigger’s ability to blend style, substance, and heart. If you’ve hesitated to watch it because of its mixed initial reception or unfamiliar genre, I urge you to give it a chance. Look past the surface-level trappings of mecha and kaiju, and you’ll find a story about friendship, redemption, and the courage to reach out to those who feel unreachable. For me, SSSS.Gridman isn’t just good—it’s unforgettable

Ah Transformers Victory, you and your recap episodes , your still a good season of Transformers anime , I thoroughly enjoyed this series, as it rekindled pleasant memories of the Robots in Disguise anime—I’d love to see that released on DVD if Hasbro, Saban/Jetix, or whoever holds the rights happens to come across reviews like this. I found it far more enjoyable than Headmasters and Masterforce, largely because it avoids the pitfalls of featuring scantily clad female characters or sidelining classic Autobots, Decepticons, and even the Trainbots in favor of aggressively marketed new toys. The only episode I skipped, aside from the tiresome recurring ... clip shows, was "A Deadly Battle Bet" (based on one translation), a ridiculous one where Deathsaurus poses as a giant, immodestly dressed female statue. It adds nothing to the story that isn’t already covered in later recaps. I’m also not particularly fond of the Shout! Factory dub—it’s a bit inconsistent, and while it only uses one swear word, it pops up frequently and unnecessarily, especially when they could’ve opted for the harmless (to me, at least) Transformers-specific term "scrap." Still, these are the only gripes I have, and they’re all that keep me from rating this series a solid 9.

Neon Genesis Evangelion is a wildly experimental and utterly distinctive anime that stands as a resounding triumph.

The story kicks off with a straightforward premise: 14-year-old Shinji Ikari is summoned by his distant, seemingly detached father to NERV, an organization tasked with nothing less than safeguarding humanity from annihilation. Upon arrival, his father’s first words are a command to pilot a colossal biomechanical robot—the Evangelion—and confront a monstrous entity assaulting Tokyo-3, the city above NERV’s headquarters. These enigmatic foes, dubbed Angels, appear unstoppable, shrugging off conventional weapons even in the futuristic year of 2015. Only the Eva units, operable solely by a select group of ... 14-year-olds, can stand against them. This is merely the launching pad for a narrative that spirals into a labyrinth of mystery, suspense, and jaw-dropping twists, each moment brimming with intellectual provocation and gripping intrigue.

The characters are the soul of the series, outshining even the Angels or NERV itself. Shinji Ikari emerges as one of anime’s most authentic and deeply relatable protagonists. Some might find his raw emotionality excessive or grating, but transforming him into a grinning Hollywood savior would betray the story’s essence—no such person could exist, and Studio Gainax nails this truth with precision. Shinji’s psychological turmoil is masterfully explored by director Hideaki Anno through intricate monologues and bold, often successful experimental filmmaking. Fellow pilots Asuka and Rei, the other chosen teens, are brilliantly conceived opposites whose development unfolds in captivating ways, anchoring Evangelion in its profound character-driven core.

Visually, the series is a feast of originality. The Evas burst with vivid color, while the Angels—ranging from a towering blue diamond to a microscopic viral entity that sabotages NERV’s systems—are arresting and unforgettable. This variety sidesteps the tired "Monster of the Week" trope, keeping the action dynamic and engaging. The much-debated Judeo-Christian symbolism weaves through the narrative, never feeling forced but always striking and thought-provoking. Though often surface-level, it jolts viewers into pondering the series’ deeper layers. The platinum remastered animation I viewed is sharp and pristine—the only version worth owning—with visuals that stun and linger long after the credits roll. Provocative imagery, like a bandaged, bleeding Rei in the premiere or a toothpick holder cheekily obscuring Shinji’s modesty in episode two, blends visceral shocks with playful gags.

The soundtrack is unforgettable, perfectly attuned to every scene. Triumphant trumpets herald Asuka and Shinji’s battlefield victories, while subtle, introspective melodies capture Rei’s essence. The opening theme ranks among my all-time favorites, never growing old across all 26 episodes.

The final two episodes spark fierce debate, pushing Evangelion’s experimental edge to its zenith. While far from "bad," they leave a frustratingly incomplete taste. Fortunately, the follow-up film, End of Evangelion, delivers a spectacular remedy. Reimagining episodes 25 and 26 beyond Shinji’s psyche, it’s a tour de force that not only meets the series’ lofty bar but arguably surpasses it, cementing its place among anime’s greatest cinematic achievements and giving the story a breathtaking finale.

I could go on about the stellar dub, impeccable pacing, or top-notch sound design, but suffice it to say they match the series’ excellence. Neon Genesis Evangelion fully earns its legendary reputation as one of the finest TV series—animated or otherwise—I’ve encountered. Every episode is a masterwork, a sheer delight to experience. I wholeheartedly urge you to dive into this anime—it’s an absolute must-watch!

This is hands-down one of the strangest, most twisted anime I’ve ever watched—and in a medium like this, with the sheer volume of shows I’ve seen, that’s saying something. But I mean that in the best way possible. This title deserves way more love than it gets. There’s nothing else out there quite like it.

This is a spoiler-free review.

Story

At its core, it follows a couple of teens who join a mysterious organization to pilot clunky, barebones mechs and battle bizarre creatures they know zilch about. Oh, and there’s a macho pretty boy with rainbow hair who turns into a giant monster when he eats fruit. ... No, I’m not making this up—pretty sure no one was high during production either.

Joking aside, the first thing that hits you is the vibe. It’s this wild mix of lighthearted cartooniness and dark, creepy undertones. That oddball atmosphere is probably why it’s not more popular, but for me, it’s a breath of fresh air. I can’t name another show that nails this exact tone—it’s unsettling in a way that sticks with you. The reason it works is simple: it never gets overly dramatic or tries too hard to be edgy. The goofy, playful bits coexist with the eerie stuff without clashing, and it makes the characters feel more human in the process.

Don’t expect a mech-heavy focus either. This is more sci-fi with horror vibes, tracking a group of kids as they stumble through encounters with the unknown. It’s like the creator dumped all his childhood nightmares into a blender and spun them into a sprawling story with some seriously rich lore. The big theme here is genetics and evolution—hinted at by the title—pushing humanity toward its “next stage.” The science isn’t just window dressing either; everything from the mechs’ mechanics to the creatures’ origins gets explained with legit-sounding terminology, often tied to real-world biology via clever analogies.

The exposition is a standout. It’s always character-driven, tied to what’s happening, and sticks to explaining the science (not the plot, which unfolds visually). It never feels forced or drags on, thanks to slick visuals and lively character banter. The story itself is intricate—early moments that seem minor end up sparking huge payoffs later. It’s complex but not impenetrable; they explain enough to keep you on track. Some episodes might throw you for a loop, but the confusion doesn’t linger. The show constantly raises questions, answers them, and ramps up the stakes, wrapping up in an epic, airtight finale that ties every thread together.

It’s not flawless, though. The pacing can get hectic—major events sometimes pile up too fast. There’s subtle visual foreshadowing that’s neat but might trip up first-timers. And the rainbow-haired Betterman swoops in to save the day a bit too often, giving the weaker mains a whiff of plot armor (though there’s a solid in-story reason for it). Still, these are minor gripes for a narrative this bold.

Characters

The cast is a vibrant bunch: a military nerd, a grizzled old dude, a sexy scientist, a troubled teen girl, and the manliest pretty boy in anime history—Betterman himself—plus a few others. Their interactions are a blast, with chemistry that carries them far.

It’s a big group, each with a role to play. The major players get full arcs, and we dig into their relationships and backstories—stuff that actually ties into the plot. That said, the show’s focus on atmosphere and events sometimes overshadows their personal depth. There’s drama, but it’s low-key, sprinkled through subtle hints about who they are and how they connect. They get along well for the most part, and any friction resolves fast due to the constant crises. That can make it tricky to bond with them on a first watch.

They react to the chaos around them believably enough, though they’re not exactly traumatized by it—which might’ve fit at times. Betterman’s a crowd-pleaser with his flair and swagger, but his true motives stay under wraps until late, keeping him static for most of the ride. The villains, meanwhile, are chilling and memorable. They’re not deep, but their mirrored motivations reinforce the show’s themes.

Overall, it’s a solid crew—fun solo and as a team, swinging from campy to serious with fitting closure for all.

Art:

One of the last cel-animated shows before the digital shift, this has a semi-cartoonish style with colorful, slightly goofy character designs that scream personality and pop with expression. The dark, creepy settings contrast nicely, balanced by sharp shading and lighting. Animation and detail are decent—not groundbreaking—with some reused shots (done intentionally, though). But the freaky creatures, spot-on expressions, and action sequences shine. The mechs look janky, but Betterman’s monster forms are a visual treat, especially when he’s brawling with beasts, mechs, or tanks. The eerie imagery stands out, with bold framing and creative editing that make it instantly recognizable.

Fun fact: Betterman was the first TV anime in widescreen (16:9), rare for its time. Maybe it’s to amp up the horror and scale—or maybe just a tech flex. Either way, it’s got a distinct visual identity that outshines most modern anime and matches its weird tone perfectly.

Sound

The Japanese voice cast is stacked with recognizable talent, delivering everything from geeky to sultry to downright creepy. It’s peak anime-style acting—exaggerated but fitting—and shines with emotion when it counts. It only dips during heavy technobabble, but that’s rare. The ominous sound effects and tracks amplify the mood, though some feel dated and might not hold up solo. The OP is a soft, soothing lure before the weirdness hits, and the ED? Intense, bizarre, and the best I’ve ever heard. You’ve got to experience it.

Enjoyment

I’m obsessed. After years of anime, this felt like a throwback to my newbie days—unique, creepy, thought-provoking, action-packed, with a dash of tasteful fanservice. The weirdness won’t click for everyone, but if that’s a dealbreaker, why bother with anime? I’m here for the wild stuff you can’t get elsewhere.

Overall

Writing this was tough—this show’s so bizarre it’s hard to pin down. Betterman is one of a kind. I wouldn’t blanket-recommend it, but you’ve got to see it to believe it.

GaoGaiGar Revived the Super Robot Genre with Flair, but It’s a Mixed Bag Split in Two

Story:
The plot of GaoGaiGar is pretty straightforward but lacks depth early on. Villains corrupt humans to spawn monsters of the week, aiming to purge negative emotions, which inevitably leads to widespread destruction. GaoGaiGar and his team step in to defeat these monsters, purifying the human hosts in the process. However, the first 25 episodes are a slog—barely advancing the overarching story. You could honestly skip from Episode 1 to Episode 26 and miss little beyond the heroes’ gradual growth and the monster battles. Speaking of battles, the early fights feel ... like filler, dragging on with no real purpose. Why pad the runtime with pointless action? Things finally pick up after Episode 27, where both the story and battles gain momentum and purpose, becoming far more engaging. If only the Final Fusion had been greenlit from the start, the pacing issues might have been avoided, making the journey much smoother.

Art:
Visually, GaoGaiGar is a treat. The art style shines with detailed character designs, and the monsters meet their end in spectacular fashion—think massive fireballs and stunning pillars of light. The CG, however, is a jarring downside, especially during the purification sequences, where it clashes with the otherwise stellar 2D animation.

Sound:
The soundtrack is unforgettable, easily rivaling the likes of Gurren Lagann and Star Driver in quality. It’s a high point that elevates the experience. That said, the first half’s audio experience is marred by incessant chatter. The dialogue often states the obvious or devolves into whining about Guy’s predicaments—echoing complaints Nostalgia Critic once made about The Magic Voyage for similar reasons. Add Mikoto’s constant screaming to the mix, and you’ve got a solid case for skipping the early episodes entirely.

Characters:
The main cast is a highlight, brimming with personality. Guy, the fiery cyborg, leads the charge, joined by HyoRyu (an ice-based transformer), EnRyu (his fiery counterpart), Volfogg (a stealthy ninja), and Mic Sounders the 13th, who channels SpongeBob’s rock guitar energy from The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie. Fan-favorite Soldat-J and the mechanoid King J-Der also steal the show with their arsenal—lightsabers, finger cannons, and a flaming bow and arrow. However, the show stumbles with its bloated roster of side characters. Mamoru’s classmates, in particular, feel like dead weight, adding little to the narrative and dragging down an otherwise strong ensemble. Their presence is a big reason GaoGaiGar doesn’t reach its full potential.

Dagwon, the seventh and second-to-last installment in the Brave series, stands out among its predecessors, which explored themes like trains, treasure hunting, and police forces. What sets Dagwon apart? Its unmistakable SUPER SENTAI/TOKUSATSU-inspired vibe. Conceptually, Dagwon might just be my favorite in the entire Brave lineup, but its execution leaves something to be desired.

Story

When I say "SUPER SENTAI-inspired," I mean it—Dagwon’s plot feels like it was lifted straight from a tokusatsu playbook. A mysterious alien empire, led by the Ark Seijin, invades Earth, and it’s up to a group of attitude-laden teens—En, Kai, Shin, Yoku, and Ryu—recruited by the Brave Seijin to save the day. ... If you’ve watched tokusatsu or Power Rangers, this setup will feel like second nature. The story unfolds predictably: new mechs and team members join the fray, more villains emerge from the shadows, and a few main characters meet tragic ends. While it’s not revolutionary, the familiarity isn’t inherently a flaw—it’s just not Dagwon’s strong suit, making it the series’ weakest aspect in my view.

Art

The mecha designs are a highlight, easily some of the best in the Brave series—standouts like "Shadow Dagwon" and "Dagfire" come to mind. With the legendary Kunio Okawara as the lead mechanical designer, the robots sport a chunky, bold aesthetic paired with vibrant, eye-catching colors. I’m a big fan. The transformation suits and devices for the Dagwon team? Meh, nothing special. The character designs, however, take a different turn.

Unlike the stylized, cartoony flair of earlier entries like Goldran or Might Gaine, Dagwon opts for a more grounded, realistic look. It’s clear the show was aiming to appeal to the young female audience of its era, leaning hard into a "bishounen" aesthetic for the main cast. It’s not my personal taste, but it’s not poorly done. The art quality fluctuates—feeling flat and uninspired for much of the run—until episode 37, where a noticeable boost in animation and visuals kicks in, offering a welcome surprise.

Sound/OST

The sound design is fine—nothing terrible, but nothing remarkable either. The soundtrack is similarly middle-of-the-road. Aside from the opening and ending themes, which are solid, the OST lacks standout tracks and fades from memory quickly. It’s not the weakest part of the series, but it’s a close second.

Characters

Hands down, the characters are Dagwon’s strongest pillar. The core team’s chemistry is a joy to watch—they evolve from a ragtag bunch into a tight-knit unit that can lean on each other in the toughest moments, complete with the usual bickering along the way. Even the supporting mechs, like Gunkid and Lian, get some personality and satisfying arcs. Ryu’s my top pick—his ninja skills and cool-headed presence steal the show whenever he’s around. On the flip side, Geki’s my least favorite; he’s grating, and his mech design didn’t help (though I did feel a pang of sympathy when he didn’t win Maria’s heart).

The recurring cast is mostly forgettable. The Ark Seijin villain is your standard evil overlord—generic, with no backstory to chew on, even when his villain trio shows up later. Maria and her little brother pop in occasionally to be rescued, but they don’t add much. Maria, in particular, gets on my nerves, hovering around leader En without contributing anything substantial.

Overall

Dagwon isn’t my favorite Brave series entry, but it’s got enough going for it to land a respectable 7 (otherwise, it’d be a 6.5 at best). The standout characters and stellar mecha designs carry it a long way. I’d recommend it to mecha buffs, tokusatsu enthusiasts, or Brave series diehards looking to complete the set. Beyond that? Well, it apparently struck a chord with bishounen fans back in the day, so maybe that’s a draw if you’re into that vibe.

Goldran, at its core, is an anime that leans heavily into a lighthearted, youthful spirit, brimming with a soft-hearted charm that sets it apart from the more intense, gritty mecha combat series that fans of the genre might typically expect. It’s not about dark, high-stakes showdowns or brooding pilots wrestling with existential crises—Goldran opts instead for a tone that’s unabashedly childish in the best way possible, prioritizing fun, camaraderie, and a sense of wonder over grim seriousness.

One of the standout features of the series is its jaw-dropping robot combinations, which are nothing short of spectacular. These mechanical marvels aren’t just impressive feats of animation—they’re practically ... bursting with personality. Each robot in the Goldran lineup comes equipped with a metaphorical “heart of gold,” embodying a wholesome, heroic spirit that makes them feel like the ultimate good guys. Their designs are striking and imaginative, and when they combine, the result is a visual treat that’s as dazzling as it is unforgettable. Seriously, they look absolutely incredible—every bolt, every gleaming surface screams creativity and flair.

The story kicks off with the Goldran robots sealed away in mysterious power stones, scattered across the far reaches of the world like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered. It’s up to the young protagonists— a group of spirited kids—to unlock these robotic wonders, and they waste no time getting started. Early in the series, most of the robot team is brought into the fold, setting the stage for a journey filled with thrilling battles and growing connections. As the kids and their mechanical companions face off against countless foes, the anime weaves a tale of teamwork and resilience. Each clash strengthens the bonds between the characters, both human and robot, highlighting their ability to stand united and draw courage from one another.

Then comes the second half of the series, where Goldran truly hits its stride. This is when the real adventure unfolds, taking everything up a notch. The stakes feel higher, the world expands, and the narrative dives deeper into the friendships that have been blossoming all along. What started as a playful romp evolves into something richer—a heartfelt exploration of loyalty, trust, and the power of sticking together through thick and thin. It’s still got that signature Goldran charm, but with an added layer of emotional depth that makes the journey all the more rewarding.