Back to Recynon's Profile Recynon's Profile

If I were to review Texhnolyze on its own merits, I can’t really say much other than, “OK, that just happened”. Or to put it more critically, it’s a big nothingburger. That’s because 1) the events in the show seem to be directionless and 2) the series likes to go out of its way to give you as little information as possible on what’s going on, in a “blink and you’ll miss it” fashion. As such, I don’t know what significance any of the payoffs in the series carry with respect to the series itself, if they can be considered payoffs at all, and there ... is not enough information nor coherence within the context for me to even say that the events carry any significance through real world parallels. And so the most neutral thing I can say is that it does not do anything for me. If I were to be negative, I would say that the lack of meaning doubly means that the lack of compelling characters and slow plot progression cannot be excused, altogether amounting to a terrible viewing experience.

But that’s not the general consensus on Texhnolyze. Interestingly, the general consensus is positive, but for wildly different reasons. Some say Texhnolyze is good because it’s a good illustration of pure nihilism. Others say it’s good for the opposite reason; that it promotes finding meaning in the face of a meaningless world. Some say it illustrates how current trends will lead to societal collapse (e.g. BadRespawn’s video about Texhnolyze’s relation to the behavioral sink). Some people even find Ichise inspirational because of his supposed character development. Lastly, some advocate for something closer to what I took away, which is that Texhnolyze generally doesn’t push an idea in any one direction but is simply an illustration of how different people with different perspectives react to a doomed situation.

See, it’s not just me that had trouble figuring out what Texhnolyze was about. Even the people who liked it like it for wildly different reasons. Clearly, the series offers no clear authorial intent that I can use to evaluate it with respect to itself. And since I don’t think it accomplishes anything, in order to support my stance, I’d have to state why I disagree with all the perspectives that say that it does accomplish something.

Basically, I don't think Texhnolyze should be attributed meaning or thematic excellence because it supposedly shows how individuals assert themselves and their meanings in the face of of a meaningless, doomed world. The characters are too immoral to be held as inspirational or a good example of the triumph of humanity over apathy, and the motivations of the characters are too undetailed, nonsensical, and/or radical to be said to represent anything about humanity on the thematic side. The worldbuilding is similarly too thin for one to make any parallels with society, where society is headed, and the potential impact of technology on society. And Texhnolyze definitely does not successfully argue for or illustrate nihilism, because it's not clear that that is even what it is purporting to do.

However, owing to Texhnolyze's ambiguous nature, which allows room for many interpretations and thus many counter arguments, my arguments would take too long to cover in this review. You can visit my blog for my actual evidential arguments: https://myanimelist.net/blog.php?eid=905870

Reviewing Texhnolyze as a piece of entertainment by itself, with my natural reaction and assumptions after watching the show, I found that there was no reason to care about or root for the characters because they almost were all violent, selfish criminals with few redeeming qualities. The direction and atmosphere are designed to immerse you into a bleak setting but it disengaged me because it simply made the show drab. The pacing is deliberately slow, which when combined with a lack of characters or plot points to hook me, and the fact that Ichise's animalistic behavior is agonizing to watch, made the viewing experience very unenjoyable. And well, the world and characters are written to self destruct by the ending, so there is not a lot of payoff to reward me sitting through those 22 episodes.

This is the show Ashita no Joe wishes it was. Thematically, this is also the show Cowboy Bebop wishes it was.

Megalo Box heard all the critics who dismissed it as an empty shell of the classic underdog story, lacking in both substance and heart. And it answered. Personally I agreed that the first season felt by-the-numbers but I felt that there was some potential there. It was by-the-numbers, but it wasn't bad, and if it came short it still felt like an earnest effort. But now, in 2021, the show mounted a scorching comeback; as much as Megalo Box was about an underdog triumph, ... the anime itself was an underdog triumph.

What makes this anime for me is the same thing that makes other anime that I rated highly: its ability to show (not tell) a nuanced message that gives weight to both sides of the issue. Furthermore, it does so with a somber, balanced tone free from the modern popular anime styles, free from melodramatics, and free from pretentiousness. In short, the central theme of Nomad is the tug and pull between idealism, dreams, hope, and heroism, and family, safety, cynicism, and moderation.

The reason I brought up Ashita no Joe was because I disliked it for the same reasons that I like Nomad. In many ways, Nomad is the antithesis of Ashita no Joe. For all the praise that AnJ gets for being a gritty underdog story where Joe faces the harsh challenges of life and becomes a better person, its backbone is still very much battle shounen. If you want to hear a more detailed explanation of what I mean by this, you can go to the Anidb comments for the series and read my rant. To keep it brief, Ashita no Joe's spirit is purely about getting stronger, beating up other people, and giving the sport your all. Now you may wonder, what's wrong with this? Nothing, if done in moderation. But in Ashita no Joe people die while going all out, and the show acts like it's heroic. It's not heroic, it's just stupid. Nomad has people die and get seriously injured too, but it uses this as a counterpoint to the dreams and hopes of its characters. Yet, it's not cynical. It acknowledges the importance of dreams and hopes for a variety of people, and how the beacon of light shined by Gearless Joe on the way to the top illuminated the lives of many others. That same light that he gave to other people came back around and inspired him to keep going. It even accounts for the sacrifices that have to be made for those dreams to come true, and how some people accept those sacrifices. In many cases, these dreams and hopes were projected by people with good intentions. But sometimes the lines gets blurred. Sometimes chasing the light can blind a person, so that a positive quest for greatness can become mixed with pride and selfishness. In pursuit of a brilliant radiance to shine upon everyone else, those blinded by the light can lose sight of what truly matters: the lives of themselves and those they care about.

Because as big as megalo boxing, or any sport for that matter, may seem, nothing is bigger than life. And this is what distinguishes Nomad from other sports anime, allowing it to achieve greatness by freeing it from the restrictions of the genre. The thing is, sports anime are intrinsically limited in how good they can get because the focus on the sport forces the story along narrow passageways. Sure, there can be drama on the side, but the main source of payoff will always be beating the big rival and winning it all. Only one other sports anime, Ping Pong, has dared to venture out of this territory and acknowledge that ping pong isn't the only thing in life, but even then I felt that it was limited. So then I guess I should say, Nomad is better for not being a sports anime; it's mainly a drama that features boxing, and the drama uses boxing to talk about larger, universal themes in life. You can apply the principles of Nomad to competitiveness, ambition, and dreams in general; in fact, I've found more thematic similarities between nonsports anime than sports anime. In particular, Nomad has the kind of organic wisdom, authenticity, and sense of balance that Argento Soma and Real Drive have, both of which you probably haven't watched or heard of. Argento Soma talks about how excessive ambitiousness in the pursuit of scientific advancement can cause people to lose sight of who those scientific advancements are supposed to be benefiting and turn their good intentions sour, and Real Drive similarly talks about ideals and scientific advancement. Nomad also talks about these topics, paralleling the dreams of scientists to the dreams of the boxers, and just like the other two, it shows its elegance by creating great conflicts without having big evil villains; in fact, it manages to make you root for and sympathize with all of the major boxers that Joe fights.

As part of this elegance, Nomad still affirms the pursuit of greatness through sports and moving forward through science as necessary and positive, but it advocates for moderation in all things and not to hold onto things too tightly. As such, in its parable of the hummingbird and the nomad, it relays an important, nuanced point; it's not simply saying to never give up, but rather, that you can continue to win even after the fight is lost. Because even if you've seemingly lost everything, as long you have your life, that counts for a lot. If one day you were the greatest boxer in the world, and then you got injured and lost the ability to box, life still goes on. If you lost your home and all your worldly possessions in a typhoon, you should be glad you're still alive. Going back to Ashita no Joe again, Joe of that show embodies the unrelenting spirit and that's why he never gives up. Which sounds great until you realize he's sacrificing his body to win fights by getting up after every knockout (which is also stupid because that still means he's a less skilled boxer than his opponent if he's getting knocked down so much). Yeah sure, you can never give up, until you give up your life.

And that's why complaints about the ending being anticlimatic or the latter half of the show for being a letdown are missing the point. As are the complaints about the show being fragmented because it has arcs that focus on different characters. If you understand what it was trying to say for 13 episodes, it all comes together and the ending fits perfectly.

Branching off this idea of dealing with loss and moving on, this show said what Cowboy Bebop couldn't or wouldn't say. Cowboy Bebop is overrated with respect to its nostalgic treatment of the theme of the past. It only comes off as something significant and meaningful because of its sheer audiovisual style. But take all the coloring away and you'd see that it's just a bunch of immature people stuck in the past. One guy can't get over his girlfriend dumping him and can't find purpose in life because he's not in organized crime anymore. Another girl got betrayed once and lost her home, and now pushes everyone away, sabotaging any chances of a brighter future. The show just meanders around this with jazzy music for 26 episodes and then SPOILERS Spike goes and gets himself killed just like Ashita no Joe's Joe did, and it's framed as something legendary or cool ENDSPOILERS. Nomad talks about Joe and Sacchio's pasts, and has them actually DEAL with it. People forgive each other, people deal with not being able to do what they once used to, people deal with tragedy, and people don't repeat the mistakes they made in the past. The artsy direction and music aren't just for naught because they're complementing actual emotional change. Cowboy Bebop says, "You're going to carry that weight" and Nomad says, "You can't take back your mistakes, but if you let the past weigh you down, you will never find your way to tomorrow" (episode 12).


In addition, the fights are much improved from season 1 because now it's pure boxing, rather than relying on gimmicks the dictate the fight (you know, when the hero figures out this one thing that allows him to win the fight in a short amount of time). There's no more dramatic comebacks; the boxers have a similar skill level to begin with so that wins don't feel contrived and staged.

I'll end the review with a quote from Mark Henry on losing to people taking PED's in the Olympics (who are dead now), because it perfectly encapsulates the spirit of the show:

"I feel sympathy for these people that they was mislead into thinking that an accomplishment in competition was greater than life."

Don't be fooled by the cover like I was; this is a straight-up shoujo dressed up as a vampire action series. It's the worst kind of shoujo at that--- the kind that makes every decision in order to create maximum drama rather than to tell a good story. In turn, my critique is going to sound especially harsh, because this is more than just about what a show succeeds or fails at doing--- this is about how nasty the intentions of the creators of this show are.

As such, this is going to sound more like a rant than a review, but only because there ... is literally nothing good I can say about this show outside of the technical aspects. Trust me, I really did try to hold onto the one thing in it that had some potential and figure out whether or not it worked, and this review is part of that attempt. Also, yes, this review is only for 30 episodes, but I believe the patterns I recognized in these 30 episodes extend throughout the show AND if 30 out of 50 episodes are trash, most of this criticism is relevant.

I'll start with the characters. None of the characters have any interesting personalities to speak of, which isn't always damning by itself. The show's overall tone or collective chemistry can make up for that if the characters and overall feel aren't archetypal, but that isn't the case here. Saya has no personality other than being demure, Kai is the redhaired boneheaded juvenile delinquent, and Riku is the cute innocent little brother. Meanwhile, the character dynamics are also typical anime high school fare. Hagi is the dark brooding bishounen that's forever by the poor girl's side because shoujo. He's bland as hell even after his backstory and you'll find the exact same character in Vampire Princess Miyu. You won't be watching the secondary characters for their personality either, but the show doesn't give us additional reasons to care about any of them. The primary villains lack enough personality or background for you to care about all the scenes with their internal scheming. Maybe in the next twenty episodes the show will devote time to flesh them out but the fact still remains that it introduces the politics first and the character investment later (which would work if we cared about the plot, which I'll get to later). There's an attempt to make sympathetic villains in the Schiff but since they're cold blooded murderers with little characterization/background up to this point it doesn't work.

Still, a show certainly has the right to flesh out the scheming of the villains. However, it adds two additional plot threads involving the secondary protagonists that in thirty episodes have added absolutely nothing to the plot or characterization outside of the viewer wanting to follow those characters in the first place (which I doubt, because again, we're not given enough personality or background to care). The show also has characters make dumb decisions in order to get those plot threads started in the first place, so it feels especially forced. Kai, Riku, Riku's girlfriend, and some random reporter all go to great lengths to involve themselves in what an extremely dangerous and creepy situation while they themselves are powerless in such a situation.

The main plot thread is not much better. The overall problem is that the show doesn't bother setting up the threat that's going to keep the tension high throughout the show. For half the show, all we know is that sometimes these things called chiropterans attack people, but we don't know the scale and it seems small scale. We don't know what potential threat the main villain poses; a scene establishing the power and destructiveness of Diva on a large scale could have been inserted early on in the show to keep the viewers scared of her return. Instead, for twenty five episodes we watch some German guy scheme behind the scenes and Red Shield uncovering some attempts to make chiropterans, but the question is why do we care? In fact, I didn't pay much attention to any of that and by episode 30 none of it mattered. The main point was very simple in that the main villain simply awoke, but we still have no idea about what her plans are and thus what threat she poses. Of course, you can argue that they will insert the point of tension later, but that's still 30 episodes with no tension. You can also argue that the mystery will keep viewers watching, but usually mysteries create tension because either the initial events are bizarre/intriguing enough for you to want to find out what happened and/or solving the mystery negates the big threat. Well, there's no big threat established here, and I don't find the events bizarre enough to warrant a mystery; monsters are attacking people to suck their blood for sustenance.

So if the plot isn't engaging, what about the character development? Since I've already discounted the majority of the supporting cast, the only potential source of interest on this front comes from Saya's development. In theory, Saya's character arc goes from a timid, PTSD-afflicted girl who longs for a family to a decisive, independent warrior who has made peace with her past trauma. I can't say Saya didn't get stronger at all, but let's just say her development is highly questionable. What complicates matters is the issue of PTSD and "realism". That is, if a character suffering from PTSD goes through many events that feel like they should change her for the better but don't, you can always make the reasonable defense that realistically speaking people don't move on from trauma easily. Because over the course of 30 episodes, Saya jumps back and forth between fighting and being too traumatized by her past to fight. Of course, it's obvious from all the illogical melodrama in the show that the writers aren't earnestly trying to tell the story of how Saya overcomes her trauma and gets stronger but are just trying to milk her for all her angst. But if you isolate Saya's arc, it's hard to attack it because of the aforementioned PTSD defense.

Now I will make a long list of all the illogical/pointless things the writers contrive for the sake of melodrama in order to justify the claims I made in the opening paragraph and to discuss Saya's arc in detail. SPOILERS AHEAD

-As mentioned Kai and Riku insisting that they tag along with Saya despite the obvious danger and their own powerlessness in such a situation instead of just waiting for her to come back like normal people. It's not just that they want to be there to support Saya; Kai is mad that he isn't allowed to participate in physical combat even though he's just a high school boy who likes to get into fights. In addition, in the first few episodes, Kai hears that a monster has severely injured his dad and responds by going off on his own in order to try and shoot it in revenge.

-Along the same lines, Riku's girlfriend is somehow so attached to him that she steals money from her father to travel the world in search of him, and when she finds him, she adopts the same mentality of wanting to involve herself in this supernatural conflict despite being powerless. In response, Kai does the same thing that the Red Shield guys did to piss him off; saying that she shouldn't get involved because it's too dangerous.

-She is accompanied by a reporter who has a better reason in that he wants the big scoop, but this plotline does nothing because we're just watching them discover things the viewer already knows.
-Solomon falls in love with Saya at first sight and having had one dance with her.

-The show spends time setting up Saya's school life in Vietnam as she goes undercover and this goes nowhere, except to have a final scene where Saya's new best friend (that she made over the course of a few days) sees her all bloody with a sword after she had a fight. This gives Saya more reason to mope around despite it being no big deal.

-The show wastes time hastily setting up Kai's friendship with a local girl who later gets turned into a chiropteran. She's a generic girl designed for the viewer to feel bad for and she hasn't been seen since episode 14 so far. As far as I can tell there was no point in this except to produce angst when the girl he likes gets turned into a monster.

-In the same vein Kai gets heavily attached to one of the Schiff after spending an afternoon with her and based on this he decides to try to help the Schiff even though they're trying to kill Saya. This creates a temporary rift with Saya just for the sake of it, because the two can't have a reasonable conversation. Saya clearly sees that some chiropterans like herself, Riku, and Hagi are humanlike but unilaterally lumps all the chiropterans as her enemies without even hearing Kai out.

-The Schiff decide that the best way to get Saya's blood is to kill her instead of asking her, which the show excuses by saying they were raised as weapons. OK, fine. But after they realize Saya's not their enemy and that they're both after Diva, they turn down the offer to work together because apparently they don't know how to work together with others because of how they were raised. I mean, even animals know how to work together in packs to hunt larger prey.

-The Schiff decide not to engage with Saya and Hagi only to come back later and fight them while they're with the Red Shield members.

-Saya feels guilty over saving Riku's life with her blood, thereby turning him into a chevalier, even though she had no other choice to save his life AND this means that he lives forever and has healing powers. She thinks she can't face Kai because of what she did, even though Kai was literally right there and told her to do it. They also decide not to tell Riku about his new status as a chevalier even though it has almost no downsides besides needing blood transfusions periodically and Saya's been living a happy school life that way. Sure, you stay a kid forever... but you LIVE FOREVER! Instead, they spend the whole episode angsting about it.

-Saya is in the middle of fighting the Schiff because they're chiropterans before she relents to Kai and gives one of the Schiff her blood to try and save her. The Schiff dies instead, and Saya mourns over her death for an episode despite being intent on killing her just moments before (she didn't know her either) and it wasn't her fault.

-Saya meets a group of soldiers on her mission in Vietnam and after one of the female soldiers died that same day, after all other soldiers had died, and despite Saya exchanging only a few lines with her, Saya tears up for that one specific female soldier as if she was a lifelong comrade.

-Get this, it was SAYA who killed the female soldier because she went on a mindless rampage. Before the mindless rampage, she refused to fight because she was traumatized by the setting reminding her of her rampage in Vietnam 30 years ago when she killed monster and human alike. So she goes on the rampage and slashes the soldier, snaps out of it, and cradles the soldier in her arms. The soldier tells her to she is their only hope to defeat the chiropterans in an encouraging way, even though she was just mortally wounded by Saya.

-Along the same lines, 30 years ago when Saya went on a rampage and killed a bunch of American soldiers, one of the soldiers with his dying breath told someone to take care of Saya.

-Hagi stands by and watches Saya's father charge the chiropteran and even keeps Saya from helping him, which results in him being injured.

-So 30 years ago in Vietnam Saya goes on a rampage because she was awoken by drinking Hagi's blood. Except in the present day we have repeatedly seen Saya consume Hagi's blood to enter her kill mode, kill the monster, and not go on the rampage. Instead, she faints after she kills the monster. The rampage mode is usually indicated by Saya's eyes glowing red, or perhaps not, because her eyes go red when she's just fighting in control as well, and sometimes they go red after she sheds her own blood on her blade but hasn't consumed Hagi's blood. In the present day, the rampage mode is not triggered by consuming Hagi's blood but by Diva's song. Later when she visits the Zoo, she hears Diva's song but doesn't go on rampage mode. Anyway, during the rampage 30 years ago, Hagi, her lifelong friend, isn't able to get through to her to stop her but in the present day, all it took was Riku (who had only known her for one year) to call out to Saya. Now, the whole berserker mode trope has always been a cheap and dishonest way for writers to create flawed characters without actually having flawed characters. Saya is clearly just a normal girl and her rampages are not triggered by any inherent suppressed bloodlust/anger in her personality but some biological reaction she can't control. But all these inconsistencies tell me that aside from this the writers are clearly just using her rampage mode as a plot device for more angst rather than a flaw that Saya has to overcome. It doesn't help that after the incident in Vietnam her rampage mode doesn't show up again so far.

-When Saya is afraid to fight the monsters that are attacking her and her father and when she's afraid in Vietnam, Hagi doesn't her his blood to make her go into her kill mode, which results in her dad dying and all the soldiers dying.

-Both Hagi and Red Shield don't tell Saya about her past, using the weak excuse that it's better for her to remember on her own. This of course is the cause of all her angst as she keeps getting flashbacks but doesn't know the whole story. Even if I accepted this, the least they could have done was shown her to the Zoo, which helped her regain most of her memories just by being there. In addition, Saya gets an iron resolve to defeat Diva after regaining her memories because Diva killed her father, so apparently Red Shield didn't think it was wise to reveal this to her early on in order to motivate her to work for them. Obviously, the real reason the truth was kept from her was to prolong the angst and mystery.

-Saya's resolve to fight the chiropterans almost breaks when one of the chevaliers tells her that she's also a chiropteran and that she's fighting against her own kind. The chevalier tells her that she's being used by the humans. This is AFTER both her dad and the female soldier died at the hands of the chiropterans and she had resolved to defend everyone from them. What difference does it make it she's also chiropteran? She's not the one killing people. Saya also starts to angst about being a chiropteran even though practically speaking she's mostly human and NOT a bloodsucking monster. Plus, she knows that Hagi isn't human and has a monstrous hand. Anyway, after the chiropteran tells her all this she leaves Red Shield and leaves a note calling them liars, even though 1) why would you trust the enemy who's turning children into monsters 2) you KNEW they were withholding information from you and you just went along with it 3) they didn't technically lie to her about any of those points.

-Saya angsts about having freed Diva from prison which allowed her to kill Joel, even though it was mostly not her fault because she didn't know. She also doesn't immediately question why Joel would imprison her sister to begin with.

Next, I'll talk about Saya's arc, which involves more subjective critique. As some reviewers have noted, Saya is way too mopey and intentionally so; the show constantly resupplies excuses for Saya to mope each episode, as I've already described. If I were to identify her primary struggle though, I'd assume that she's traumatized by memories of being a killing machine in Vietnam 30 years ago, which prevents her from fighting chiropterans in the present day for fear of reliving those memories and becoming a killing machine again. Saya also longs for the peaceful life she lived with her adoptive family in Okinawa, which seems to be taken away when she's called to fight chiropterans. I find it very hard to sympathize with her in this regard, as
1)she's only been living this peaceful schoolgirl life for a year so her nostalgia for it seems overblown
2)the show doesn't do a good job actually showing the bonds between Saya and the family
3) she has amnesia, so it's not like she has memories of a much harder time in her life to make her treasure her peaceful life, so her 1 year of peace would just feel like boring normal life
4) when you finally learn about her past, you see that she's been coddled most of her life and her memories in Vietnam were only a brief moment after which she went back to sleep. Even after her original family was killed, she had Hagi accompanying her the entire time.
5) it's not like working for Red Shield meant being separated from her family forever and they even allow Kai/Riku to accompany her on her mission, or even that she becomes a vampire killer for the rest of her life.
6) The fights that Saya goes through are not portrayed nearly as viscerally as in Red Garden, which makes her job seem pretty tolerable.
7) The series attempts to create wholesome family/friendship moments just to provide contrast to Saya's seemingly cruel fate but it comes off as sappy, especially when Saya's fate doesn't come off as very cruel and the characters and character interactions are generic. These scenes have none of the poignancy and authenticity of similar scenes in Red Garden where the protagonists brave their doomed fates together.
As for her primary arc of dealing with her trauma, Saya does not progress much in 14 episodes and when she does progress... it doesn't make much sense and is reverted. There are several critical points in her arc to give it an outline:

-The first time Saya fights, she's scared but after given Hagi's blood she goes into a kill mode and slays her first chiropteran. The second time she fights, she allows her father to get injured because she was too presumably too afraid of reliving being the monster she was in Vietnam.

-In the midst of retrieving her father from the hospital, Saya again says she can't fight, which results in her father dying to defend her. In his dying words, her father tells her to follow her heart and to face her past. You'd think after this incident Saya would at least unsheathe her sword in future fights because her inaction led to her beloved father dying.

-While undercover in Vietnam, Saya visits a war museum and gets PTSD flashbacks. After running out of the museum, she's confronted by a chevalier who brings up her haunted past. Saya remembers her family and the words of her father and says that she will face her past, after which she draws her sword and fights off the chevalier.

-She fights the chevalier one more time, this time with her eyes glowing red but she's in control.

-14 episodes in- Afterwards, as I previously described, she says she can't fight as Red Shield's soldiers are being killed off by chiropterans because she hears Diva's song and is having war flashbacks again, even though she had previously resolved to face her past. After going on a rampage and killing the female soldier, she heeds the female soldiers last words and resolves to protect everyone, even if she becomes a monster. First of all, you'd think she had already learned her lesson about this when her dad died because of her inaction, which is a pretty big impetus for change. Second, if the female soldier died by Saya's hand on a rampage, how does that give her motivation to go protect everyone even if it means risking killing them? Third, I've already talked about the the inconsistencies of Saya's rampage mode, which disrupts her arc.

-Anyway, after finally resolving to defend the world against the chiropterans and two deaths later, one of the villains is easily able to make her question her resolve by telling her she's a chiropteran, as I described before. This makes her leave Red Shield and go to the Zoo, where she regains her memories. Upon learning that Diva was the one who killed her original family, she resolves to kill Diva and all chiropterans. This is redundant, as she already had ample reason to kill chiropterans after they killed her dad and the female soldier that she cared so much about. The only difference is that it became personal, as now she has a name to focus on.

-So for 14 episodes Saya is too traumatized to fight, after which she fights to protect people regardless of becoming a monster in the process, which seemed like it should have been abundantly clear to her to begin with. Then she falters again because of dumb reasoning from the villains before finding out that her enemy is Diva and strengthening her resolve. After this she mopes over what happened to Riku, her rift with Kai, the death of that one Schiff, and the fact that she allowed Diva to go free. Based on all this, as of episode 30 I don't think Saya actually dealt with any of her trauma. Instead, it seems she bypasses the problem by finding motivation to defeat the chiropterans, even though she had ample reason to do so from the very start. She knew people like her dad and the soldiers were in danger of being killed by the chiropterans and still didn't do anything, but she only finds motivation after their deaths, motivation which is easily weakened. She supposedly agrees to join Red Shield to face her past as her dad said, but she only makes weak attempts to get answers out of Hagi and the Red Shield members.

Besides her arc being very messy, Saya is too passive of a character. The plot happens to her instead of her driving the plot. Her constant self-blame, moping, and passiveness undermine the ability of the viewer to sympathize with Saya in her primary struggle because even if being traumatized is understandable, it makes her come off as a pushover who prefers to sulk instead of taking action to improve herself. Even in her action scenes, Saya is only able to deal with the low level grunt chiropterans and doesn't seem to stand a chance against any of the chevaliers which means in 30 episodes she wasn't able to accomplish much. In addition, Hagi bails her out half the time. While journeying to the Zoo, they're attacked by the Schiff and Saya hides under a rock while Hagi takes on 10 Schiff because apparently she hadn't had much to eat. Even in a non fight scene, Hagi has to carry her to make a simple jump, even though she supposedly has superhuman capabilities too. You know, when I watched Revolutionary Girl Utena, I had trouble with the analysis because I couldn't fathom that some women want to be damseled and saved by men. Yet here it is before my eyes; shoujo writers actually fantasize like this, so they write weak, tortured characters like Saya so they can be saved by the dark brooding bishounen in Hagi.

I promise you I'm not intentionally taking these out of context. I skimmed through the episodes I watched before I wrote this to make sure I wasn't missing anything. If you're a fan of the show and wish to defend it, by all means write an equally long post on my page explaining all of this.

But as it stands, it's clear to me that all these contrivances are all symptoms of the same flaw; the creators of the show are more concerned about creating melodrama than telling a good story. I've seen this all before at various levels in other media; in particular, if you watch Silent Mobius/Escaflowne/Scrapped Princess you'll find the same patterns. This is one of those things that really grinds my gears because I am absolutely disgusted by people who revel in melodrama and intentionally write things to entertain you by putting your emotions on a see saw.

"The problem with RD is that you expect Ghost in the Shell, and instead get Aria the Animation."

"Actually, you get their bastard child, but oh well..."

-Anidb comments

The first statement wasn't fair, but the second one was more accurate. I just wouldn't refer to it as a bastard child of slice of life and scifi, because there's no intrinsic reason that this wouldn't work.

It seems a lot of people were disappointed with this series because of its episodic slice-of-life approach centering around a teenage girl with no technical ability, as opposed to an action show utilizing the cyber world promised in the description as ... a set piece. After all, this is a project authored by Masamune Shirow of Ghost in the Shell SAC fame. I can understand not liking its slow paced approach and bland characters, but it would be a disservice to the show to say that it doesn't deliver on hardcore scifi. Some of the reviews and comments gave me the impression that this was going to be mostly about Minamo's daily life and that the creators only tried to put a plot together in the last six episodes. Neither are entirely untrue, but 1) Minamo's daily activities serve as a framing device for the scifi concepts and allow the viewer to see how the Metal affects people on a day-to-day basis 2) each of the individual episodes were focused explorations of a certain application of the Metal, allowing the scifi ideas to be fleshed out and laying the groundwork for the themes delivered in the last few episodes.

Unlike Serial Experiments Lain, series like Real Drive and Ghost in the Shell SAC mostly refrain from asking broad ontological questions that have no real answer and only serve as fun thought experiments to give the impression of depth. Instead, the Shirow's scifi concepts are much more well thought-out in regards to conceptualizing a relatively realistic technological advancement and then exploring all the different aspects of society, nature, and human life that the technology affects. You know, as opposed to reaching for philosophical questions about God in the internet. Yes, the line between the virtual world and the real world is also blurred here, but instead of creating a dementia effect to psyche out the viewer it's done more concretely. Individual topics that are explored include the use of the Metal to simulate taste and pleasure, the effect of electronic noise on Metal users, the sex appeal of androids, the use of the Metal to connect humans and animals, the use of prosthetics for people with disabilities, the connection between math, music, and passion, and the connection between sea diving and diving into the Metal. These concepts aren't here to confuse you and make you question your sense of reality but rather provide very reasonable ways in which technology could affect our lives in the future.

Because it utilized each episode for specific, focused thematic development, Real Drive was later able to make broader statements about the relationship between man, nature, and technology without appearing like it was just spewing abstract technobabble or philosophy. Furthermore, the way this relationship was explored was detailed and subtle enough to avoid the preachiness that usually comes with talking about how man should be one with nature. In fact, despite Shirow's trademark weakness when it comes to his characters, I found his thoughts about man, nature, and technology to be quite touching and even spiritual. What's more, the show didn't go out with a massive emotional heave that is common for anti-war mech shows or environmentalist shows, but rather a steady, lukewarm, but substantial tide that had been slowly building up (though some may call it anticlimatic).

As for the specific idiosyncrasies of this anime, as I said before, characters are not Shirow's strong suit. None of the characters have much personality but neither are they cringey anime archetypes. I initially thought Minamo was going to be an annoying moe school girl designed to appeal to otakus who like thicker girls, but she isn't that and as the show went along she felt more and more like just a regular girl. This doesn't sound like it's saying much but in the world of anime where teenage school girls are usually sexualized and/or archetypal that's a plus in my book. She still doesn't have much personality and frequently comes off as too enthusiastic, but as an entry device into the various episodic stories she's alright. The biggest issue, though, is her seemingly unfounded attachment towards the old man, Haru, before she's even met the person. Thus, their relationship can come off as forced and creepy. Though towards the end Minamo is shown having the same level of care for an elderly woman at the senior center so it's not that bad. Another relationship blunder was the romance between Souta and the android, which lacked chemistry and came across as Souta developing feelings for an android one day. One pleasant surprise the characterization delivered was the absence of a real villain. No one really knows for sure what direction the new technology would take humanity and how it would interact with nature, so it's just people who are doing what they think is best for the world, while letting their dreams as scientists cloud their judgement.

The slow pace of the anime will be a real issue for many viewers and I can't say I felt compelled to keep watching for much of its run time. However, slow pacing can work if the music or visuals of a show are good enough to keep your attention even when there is not much going on in the story, and thankfully the visuals of Real Drive are up to the task. Following Minamo around in her daily life is made pleasant and relaxing by the pretty island resort backgrounds. The series was also able to render beautiful summer evenings of a color and tone that's seldom seen in animation. Furthermore, the visuals help convey the beauty of both the real sea and the sea of the Metal, which is essential for the viewers to understand the characters' connection to them as well as immerse themselves in the themes.

Overall, I think the show has some of the best scifi thematic exploration in anime, the characters were serviceable, and I was also able to accept that this isn't Ghost in the Shell SAC so I enjoyed its relaxing pace and setting.

This entry has a severe shortage of negative reviews on both MAL and Anidb, so I'll contribute my opinion to keep people like me from wasting their time with these 24 episodes.

Scrapped Princess is about Pacifica, a princess who is prophesized by this world's religion to destroy the world when she turns 16. As such, she was abandoned as a baby by the king and found by a family who have been guarding her for her entire life.

As a thematically focused series, Scrapped Princess fails on every account, but that will take time and spoilers to explain so I'll comment on more its ... more basic aspects first. The plot meanders too much in Pacifica's episodic travels and has large exposition dumps that diffuse all of the mystery in its setting at once. The places where the plot meanders is also used to introduce characters that react to Pacifica's status as the scrapped princess. However nearly all the characters have bland personalities and backstories that aren't worked on enough for you to care for them. They also all turn out the same way; they see Pacifica and decide that such a nice girl can't possibly destroy the world so they defy religious prophecy and the government. From what I can tell it seems like their further desire to risk their lives to protect her is mainly motivated by their observance of Pacifica's character but the problem is that Pacifica herself doesn't have the charisma or magnetism to pull that off. The other thing that the plot tries to do is constantly remind you of Pacifica's angst owing to her position as well as the strong bond between her and her guardians, Shannon and Raquel, which gets trite.

Yet for all her angst, Pacifica is not an active character. Her guardians do all the work and later when they get separated she instantly finds a stranger that takes care of her and protects her, so that she's generally shown living a comfortable life. She never has to fight her own battles or be the main source of income. She cooks but she's bad at it. When she does laundry she makes her guardians do it too. Despite this she spends half of her screen time complaining to her guardians about being tired and hungry and generally acting like a pampered princess. After 24 episodes of getting cocooned by her guardians and allies that she somehow charismatically attracted, she's given a choice that would change the fate of the world.

The major reason why I can see people being absorbed by this series is because it utilizes a lot of emotional porn. Pacifica will angst by feeling guilty about being the scrapped princess despite it clearly not being her fault and despite being told that the prophecy is wrong repeatedly. And as I said, this angst is overblown when she constantly has people protecting her from physical harm, and she's never had to suffer much from self esteem issues caused by the world because she was raised in a loving family and is fed constant emotional support from her siblings and allies. In fact, she's shown to have an almost narcisstic bend to her; she beats up artists who don't draw her in a flattering way, glares at people for not liking her cooking, and says a guy is out of her league when he asks her out. Shannon's desire to protect her against the world at all costs is repeatedly emphasized so you can take in the emotional beauty of such a dynamic, but doing this doesn't reveal anything we didn't already know about the characters from the first episode. To keep this going,

(SPOILERS)
the show gives Pacifica amnesia, gets her another guardian, makes him sacrifice himself to protect her, and then gives her back her memories by having her remember Shannon's love for her.
(ENDSPOILERS)

All of which does nothing to further either character or develop the themes. Emotional porn 101. As such, character development across the board is miniscule or trivial. Other than people doing what they think is right by not killing the obviously innocent girl instead of listening to religious brainwashing, you have the standard "logical AI's develop emotion" trash.

Of course, the series also tackles major themes that might give the semblance of depth. I don't think so, and I'll explain possible thematic connections and why they don't work:

SPOILERS AHEAD
1) Discussion of fate/religious prophecy/destiny. First of all, it doesn't exactly discuss destiny because a prophecy that says something will happen is different from the thing factually happening. One of the central conflicts is whether or not to believe in the religious prophecy that says the scrapped princess will bring doom to the world, which makes sense in the medieval setting, where religion would play a large role in people's lives. However, the general problem of using this as a theme is that prophecies in stories almost never work. If the story says the prophecy is true, then there's nothing else to be said except maybe accept your fate. Usually though, if the prophecy is something negative, the story necessarily has to eventually reveal that the prophecy is false, in which case the only thing that can be said was that prophecies aren't always accurate so you can't base your actions entirely on them. Then the aesop is too simple and there's nothing to be learned. In the case of Scrapped Princess the prophecy is so at odds with common sense and morality that the obvious answer is that the prophecy is wrong, which was confirmed by the story about 11 episodes in. Pacifica is obviously a normal girl that has not shown the slightest tendency nor power of destroying the world and killing her would be cold blooded murder. It's like when people thought the world was going to end in 2012 and the only evidence was that the Mayan calendar ended on that day. The only lesson learned is that prophecies with little basis in reality are stupid, which the characters of Scrapped Princess learn upon meeting Pacifica. There's nothing about defying destiny here.

That's not to say the idea of prophecies or fate can't be used in storytelling at all. Rather, a prophecy or idea of fate has to be tied in a natural chain of causality such that things SEEM inevitable and thus characters actually have to grapple with the idea that most things are beyond their control, which definitely occurs in real life. In the case of Scrapped Princess, this would involve a Pacifica who manifests destructive powers and has trouble controlling her temper. That way, the prophecy would only be accentuating the human problem of not being able to control oneself and thus be doomed for a path of self-destruction. The idea of prophecy and fate would be relevant insofar as they describe how hopeless it can feel for someone to overcome their personal weaknesses. This would be similar to something like Lenny from Of Mice and Men, wherein the character seemed doomed from the very start. Done this way, the prophecy being proven wrong wouldn't be proving that it was a religious sham, BOOM all problems solved, but rather people worked their asses off to change the course of events from their most likely outcome. It would also make people's choice to believe in Pacifica much more significant, because they chose to see the good in a person who was so flawed, rather than make the obvious decision to not kill a perfectly normal girl.

2) Defying the gaslighting of religious belief--- if it was going for this, the series only touches upon this lightly, again owing to the fact that the characters decide to believe in Pacifica so easily. It doesn't explore the intense internal struggles that people who've grown up with a religion face when they start questioning that religion, and all the thoughts that go with it. In fact the series portrays religion in a pretty one-sided manner by making it the instrument of oppression on the human race. It doesn't offer any more depth than any one of those fake church episodes from episodic action adventures.

3) Humanity is too self destructive for its own good and should be controlled, freedom vs security--- the series is out of its depth when it touches on this subject. An alien race decides that humanity if left alone would destroy itself, so it fights a war with it. They fight a war to end all wars, basically. Then one of the humans decides the war will take too many more lives so she betrays the human race and gets it enclosed in a tightly controlled environment stuck in medieval times (apparently advanced technology is too dangerous). This is obviously too extreme of a solution that values security over a total lack of freedom. Furthermore the standard of living has generally increased since medieval times and international relations are much more heavily regulated now than it was then. But it still could have worked, if the series had explored the advantages of living in such a world weighed against the freedom or lack of freedom of the people living in it. Unfortunately, such worldbuilding is scarce. Instead, Pacifica gets the God of this enclosed world to free humanity after telling her that people should have the freedom to make their own choices and take responsibility for it, and God agrees just like that, as if she didn't have any basic historical knowledge about governance and this 16 year old girl who knows nothing provided this piece of wisdom to her. Basically, this series discusses the issue by swinging the pendulum between two extremes and thus produces no meaningful thematic exploration. Who would've guessed that humans should have free will, right?

ENDSPOILERS

That wraps up the themes. In the end, I don't think there is a single element that this show did well.

This series is the greatest disappointment I've seen up to this point, and I mean that as a compliment.

Throughout the first half, it functions well as a survival story involving kids by providing adequate tension, the right tone, and likable characters. You'll get bonus enjoyment out of this if you, like me, actually enjoyed reading Robinson Crusoe throughout all the building activities because you like following the steady progress. Despite supposedly being a kids' show, the most kid-ish aspect of this is that most of the characters are emotionally mature and get along well. If this was a live-action series for adults, you'd have ... the characters start bickering each other for the sake of drama from Day 1. Instead, the writers opt to concentrate all the unlikability and instigating duties in Howard, which makes him especially hate-able for most of the show for the benefit of keeping all the other characters pristine. Other than that, the obstacles that the characters face are presented with an adequate amount of difficulty and complexity for both kid and adult viewers.

On top of the survival storyline backbone, the characters are drawn well enough figuratively and literally to evoke audience sympathy and a genuine sense of comradery. The tasteful character designs help vitalize the archetypal frameworks that the characters are written from and endear you to their simplicity. Though the characters are archetypal on paper, the writing is moderate enough not to exaggerate their archetypal qualities. In addition, while having a strong plot lessens the need for interesting personalities, the combination of the art style, lack of cringe, and general tone of the show lend it an coating of authenticity that makes the characters work and even shine.

Thus, when the show does focus on the pasts and development of individual characters, they are able to rise above their archetypes and become three dimensional and sympathetic. The character development isn't major; it's more like little adjustments that round them out--- in this important aspect, the series is rather mature in its subtlety. Besides the individual developments, there is also the natural progression of the group as a team and as friends as they brave the forces of nature together. This is one of the few times in anime that the power of friendship actually works, because it's shown rather than told.

All this is helped by the fantastic soundtrack, which is NOT generic music from a cheap visual novel as Gundroog says. However, over the course of 52 episodes it is stretched thin and the main pieces are overused, even if they're good enough that you won't get sick of them.

Now for the issues. There aren't many issues throughout the first half if you personally didn't notice any copouts to the obstacles. While it is true there are some conveniences that save the protagonists, it was not enough to scratch the tension and enjoyment for me. On the other hand, around episode 20 they introduced a character that did nothing for the show but serve as dead weight and a vehicle for the writers' message, though it's not a major issue. Later, the kid-friendly nature of the show would rear its head and for the first time truly disrupt the show because the kids would refuse to use lethal force against lethal threats. But most of those instances were concentrated in one episode.

By far, the glaring problem with this series that made it fall flat on its face occurs in the last twenty episodes, wherein the show jumps the shark. Firstly, these episodes add nothing to the show because the character arcs were already complete and the power of friendship was already shown quite well. Secondly, they actually damage what was already built by doing what half of all anime always seem to like to do: go for some preachy emotionally driven message making a generalization about humanity that oversimplifies the issues at hand and comes across as more stupid than inspiring because of the lack of common sense. There's "power of love translates to superpowers", there's "logical AI can't understand power of human emotion", there's "logical AI decides it's best to wipe out humanity", there's "save the planet at all costs", there's "kill characters off just to bring them back for dramatic effect", and there's "power of friendship to bring back mind controlled friends" all rolled into one. What was once a survival show becomes a save-the-planet show, which doesn't work because of the disparity between a group of powerless kids and the planet-level threat.

All in all, it's terrible. Which brings me to the whole point of this review: to advertise my alternate ending. Look, normally, if a show ends badly despite starting off well, I can pinpoint flaws and warning signs that were present throughout the entirety of the show, such that you can't only focus on the good parts. But here, there's such a stark disparity in quality between two halves of the show that I think it's totally appropriate to cut it in half. I highly recommend you watch the first half of the show and ignore the last 20 or so episodes unless you want it to spoil the show for you. Instead, I've edited episode 33 to make it the ending instead. I've uploaded all 33 episodes up until that point on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg1v2eEVwW-axOWmhF7RdDandgiDbrt16

But who am I to tell you how to watch a show, right? Maybe you won't find the second half (mainly the last 10 episodes) as intolerable as I did. Regardless, you'll still be attached to the characters enough by the end of it, so that central pillar is still there.

At its baseline, Patapata Hikousen no Bouken (Secret of the Cerulean Sand) is a solid action adventure. In terms of spirit it is in the same vein as the Ghibli movies, Beast Player Erin, and Serei no Moribito in that the protagonists are defined primarily by authenticity and purity of heart and the atmosphere feels wholesome. In terms of plot structure it is similar to Nadia: Secret of the Blue Water and Future Boy Conan in that you have children going on adventures around the world in which conflicts are not created from their combat ability but various nonviolent set pieces (until the later half). ...

I define a solid action adventure by two primary metrics: 1) having tension, creative set pieces, and varied, interesting locations in the action-adventures 2) having a cast you want to follow along. Provided that the action adventure does not devote its resources to doing much else, a lack of thematic substance, rich characterization, or character development is not much of a problem. If you start getting bored of the action adventures, then the problem is not necessarily a lack of substance but rather the style wasn't good enough--- the action wasn't new and inspired for each episode, there isn't enough tension for you to keep watching, and the characters aren't interesting enough make you want to see them.

Patapata meets both of these metrics. First of all, it does a good job setting up the stakes for the action-adventure by spending three episodes setting up the background of both the hero and the villain so that both of them have personal reasons for doing what they do. I wanted to follow Jane on her adventure because I sympathized with her enough to want to see her attain her goal. The villain in the latter half comes off as a stereotypical power hungry warmonger like you'd see in anti-war Ghibli movies, but is saved from being a cliche because they spent three episodes detailing his childhood and it is Freudian.

While the long term tension is there, there is also tension in the individual episodes. Though some of the early episodes have comparatively tame conflicts that might leave viewers bored, the episodes with more serious stakes become more frequent as the show progressed until a 6-7 episode stretch with engaging life or death struggles. In addition, this method of doing things was best, as it allowed the show to gradually increase the threat level, especially since the protagonist is a teenage girl with no combat abilities. They showed Jane learning to solve smaller problems before being able to tackle bigger ones, which was also a good way to make the child protagonist active in a way that didn't feel contrived or disproportionate to the stakes involved. Moreover, these smaller problems showcase Jane's moral character, whereas thrusting her into the conflict would make her feel much more like a shell of a character designed to keep the action moving.

This ties into the variation of the set pieces as well, as there is a good balance between the slice of life episodes and the action-oriented episodes. The setting also changes every two episodes or so and the designs of the scifi ships and locations are unique enough to flavor the adventures.

As for having a cast you want to follow along, most of the time this is done by having entertaining individual personalities and great character chemistry so that no matter what the characters do or where they go they can make the scene interesting just by their presence. In this case the character personalities are plain, but they are authentic and easy to root for, owing to the overall tone of the show and the setup of the characters (which was previously mentioned). Though Jane is the archetypal pure hearted Ghibli girl that can do no wrong on the surface, the show gives a thoughtful explanation of where her sympathy for other people and her love of flying comes from. It should also be noted that characters like Jane and Erin from Beast Player Erin are not goody-two shoes characters in the same sense as shounen/shoujo characters with big hearts but ditzy personalities because the latter don't have authenticity.

This leads to the issue of the supposed childishness and heavy handedness of the series which I've seen most other people complain about. We've all seen the villains who do horrible things only to get turned to the other side by the protagonist who believes that there is good in everyone. In this show it is true that all those on the side of the good guys are portrayed as pure hearted, well intentioned people. It is also true that there are instances where Jane chooses to trust people that seem to mean harm to her only for them to turn out to be good people after all. Given the surrounding intangibles, I choose to believe that this is more of a case of her being able to read people well, not that she's blindly being idealistic and that the show is supporting the idea that everyone is redeemable. There is evidence in the show to support this as well. The first clue was when she trusts Barsac enough to accompany him, but she senses that he's withholding information so she lies about her identity. Second, there are two incidences where she's confronted by evidence that a person she once trusted is suspicious, and in those instances she puts her faith in people aside and opts to take precautions to defend herself. Outside of Jane, Barsac is shown to trust Jane to accompany them on a top secret mission because he reads her to be trustworthy. Furthermore, the show actually avoids redeeming any of the main villains, so no 180 turns.

That is the extent to which I can understand where complains of childishness and heavy handedness come from. While the tone and direction of the show suggests that is geared towards children, it is sufficiently balanced and not nearly sugary enough to interfere with my immersion in the characters and the stakes. This is in contrast to something like Beast Player Erin, where the comic relief characters, repetition of flashbacks, low stakes, nurturing environment, and singing tipped the show towards being too sweet and undermined its dramatic tension. It is better than Nadia in this regard as well, as the tone of Nadia took me out of the story with its flat humor (especially the ecchi humor) and its three cartoonish villain characters as well as a complete lack of authenticity (trademark of Anno). Furthermore, this is not childish in the same way that something like Anne of Green Gables is, where the stakes are limited to a kid's life in the country side. People die here.

Another complaint is that per the childish nature of the show, the plot is predictable and cliche. The plot is predictable insofar as it follows a journey through different places in search of some macguffin and you know the protagonists have plot armor. It is cliche in the sense that the macguffin can be exploited by a shady organization to unlock weapons of mass destruction and the pure hearted girl is the one to stop them. I would argue that though you know the overall layout of the plot, the show still crafts sufficient engagement because the specifics of the HOW things happen throughout the journey are unexpected and it still does a good job at establishing threat. For example, in one episode where the protagonists must face bandits terrorizing a village, the episode does not start with them hearing about the bandits and deciding to help. The episode starts with a tense scene where village defenders are overrun by the technologically superior bandits, with one of the bandits grabbing the female leader by her hair and dragging her on his vehicle. That part is not childish. This establishes the threat so that even though the viewer knows the good guys are going to win somehow, but you still want to watch them do it. Another reason people may find this show predictable is because the villain reveal was obvious. But I don't think that was every intended to be much of a reveal or twist given the setup of the first three episodes. The same goes for the villains being obvious to spot. The show intentionally makes it clear who are the villains because this creates dramatic irony in which the audience knows something the characters don't, and suspense derives from waiting for the characters to figure it out before they get into trouble.

So that's my case for why this show functions well as an action adventure and why its supposed childishness and predictability don't interfere much with that function.

Now I will explain what elevates the show for me personally and in the process further dispel claims that it is childish, cliche, and heavy handed. Skip ahead to the end to avoid what you might find to be overanalyzing pretentiousness. SPOILERS AHEAD

I previously talked about how I interpreted Jane's morality. This is not the type of morality that strictly separates good from evil and advocates for blind kindness towards everyone. The show directly states that machines are neutral and whether they are good and bad are dependent on the people that use them. What viewers might not get is how this applies to broader themes in the show if interpreted a bit more loosely. Jane and her brother are both idealistic inventors who believe in the best of people, don't harbor hatred or ego, and are stubborn in their ambitions. Along her journey, sure Jane comes across many good hearted people that she correctly trusts, but she also comes across instances where she faces the possibility of people betraying her and she has to act accordingly. Her idealistic attitude applies to her attitude towards flying machines, which she perceives to be inherently good for their ability to make things easier for people. Her brother is the same way, as he believed that his inventions were used to make a utopia and unlike Jane, was successfully tricked by someone else into contributing towards evil means. They both share the same flaws of idealism and being overly trusting. Now, loss of youthful idealism and innocence is not some groundbreaking theme and is quite common.

What elevates the understanding of this idea beyond what I normally see in media is William Buxton's story. All his hatred and evil deeds stemmed from a childhood grudge against the Buxton family for interfering with his mother's sole love for him. He wanted to be the sole recipient of his mother's love, and when his mother died he associated the trauma of her death with the anger he felt for the Buxton family, amplifying these negative emotions. These emotional scars from an early age lead him down a path to create a supposed utopia where he had full control, and further to create a super weapon to dominate the rest of the world, all so he can be the center of everyone's allegiance. He treats Jane similarly, wanting to keep her to himself by keeping her in a cage, so much so that he had a child substitute for Jane while she was gone. People to him are little more than possessions. This is in line with the possessive, jealous thinking that he had as a child. It's a type of thinking based on absolutes, based on maximizing something that is technically positive--- his mother's love for him. He could not cope with anything less than his mother's absolute devotion to him, such that you can describe this pattern of thinking as idealistic. So all three Buxton family members were idealistic in that they held onto something good so tightly that they did not allow room for anything they perceived to be negative.

You might be thinking that George and Jane Buxton are nowhere close to the monster that is William, but despite what it seems those two do have flaws, and those flaws are rooted in dealing with absolutes (move over, Sith lords). Of course you can say that George was excused from any blame because he was being misled by William, and the specifics of what he did in Neo City were not elaborated on, but given the greater themes in the rest of the show and his personality type, there is enough room to suggest that his own mindset made him easier prey. George may have been fooled but it takes two to make a fool. George's utopian ideals and blind trust in William made him more susceptible to promises of a perfect world and he tended to hole himself up in his laboratory without diverting his energy away from his scientific pursuits to learn about the outside world.

As for Jane, despite what it seems, she did not remain the same throughout the journey as is common for her archetype. In fact, her arc not only dealt with the loss of youthful idealism but an inability to cope with loss by letting go. Just like William, she had trouble letting go of her mother and her entire journey was in search of George, who was presumed dead. When given the opportunity to escape in the last episode, she jumped from the escaping ship back to the sinking ship to try to rescue her brother, and still had to be forced into the escape pod afterwards because she didn't want to leave her two brothers. However, the escape pod was kept from leaving because its rope got tangled. At that point William, who just before tried to use a superweapon to rule the world and keep the world for himself, saw that Jane's life was in danger and had to make a decision. He chose to stop thinking about himself for once and cut the rope. In that moment, he let go of his anger and hatred, as well as his desire to have the world and Jane to himself, allowing the escape pod to unfurl its wings and fly. Jane, in the pod, had to watch her brothers die with the ship as she flew away high in the sky. For 25 episodes, Jane wanted to make flying machines to help people and because as a child she was told that her mother was in the sky, so flying was a ways to get close to her dead mother. Now, flying takes on a whole new meaning--- freedom from past pain, attachment to dead loved ones, and attachment to one's own ideals. This holds true for both William and Jane, and you can say George was also freed himself from the guilt of helping William by helping to correct his mistakes. In addition, the father, Edward Buxton, is shown recovering from illness induced by his grief at the end of the show.

So how do idealism, good and evil, flying machines, and dealing with grief relate? The pervading spirit is that of neutrality, of zen. There is a balance of good and evil, of positive and negative, of ying and yang. You have to be reasonable and moderate. Utopias and benevolent flying machines don't exist. Not everyone in the world is pure hearted. Not everyone who is pure hearted contributes to pure good. Not everyone who is evil is lacking in love but rather the perceived lack of love was what led to the evil. Not everyone you love can stay with you forever. The cerulean sand can be used for great good or great evil depending on the light that shines on it. The genius of an inventor can be used for great good or great evil as well. The death of a loved one can lead one down on a path of compassion or a path of destruction. To hold onto one end of the extreme and try to conform the world to that vision is to not just to be too idealistic but more importantly, it shows a lack of balance, a lack of understanding, and a lack of restraint. To abandon attachment to extremes and accept this mix of good and bad is to free yourself so you can fly. All of this was not preached by the show but rather embedded in it. If you don't want to look it's not there but if you want to look it's there, so if all this sounds like pretentious talk to you, you can ignore it and just enjoy the show in a straightforward way.

Each of the individual themes I mentioned have been tackled in anime before, but few have done with this combination of naturality, authenticity, and cohesiveness. Dennou Coil and Fantastic Children were not able to satisfactorily pull off the theme of letting go of loved ones--- Dennou Coil because the last few episodes dealing with grief were disconnected from the rest of the show and Fantastic Children because its contrived background story made for poor buildup.

ENDSPOILERS

In summary, Patapata succeeds because it is a fun action adventure that ties its themes together in such a way that one theme amplifies the other.

Now for some quick personal opinions on art and music:

Art: Aesthetically speaking, the designs are balanced--- though the show is made for kids the designs have enough hardness to them, unlike many kids shows and all moe shows that are too soft in design.

Music: There is a prominent theme that sounds quite good called Dream to the Sky. They overuse the theme but it's good enough that I don't mind. The ED themes sound like they were made by the Backstreet Boys. Though the OP and ED's are no slouch themselves, I do wish the OP and ED were lifted from Nadia which is otherwise inferior in every category (that's me being mad that Nadia is so popular while this show falls into obscurity).

I really wanted to hate Towards the Terra. Something about its dull color palette rubbed me the wrong way. I've since come to a neutral stance on it, though it took nearly all of its 24 episodes for me to judge that its heart was in the right place.

In my experience with Japanese space operas, they love to use the setting to talk about war, peace, and the general direction of mankind and Towards the Terra is no different. And like its brethren, Towards the Terra steps forward with its heart first and mind second, leading to a message that can feel overly sentimental ... and simplistic.

At the core of the show is the persecution of the telekinetic Mu by the AI-governed humans, a conflict which formed a rocky foundation for the rest of the show.
It's way too exaggerated; the humans and the evil AI that controls them are cartoonishly evil because their reasons for such harsh persecution of the Mu are ill justified and one sided. Even in the X-Men universe the mutants have some space to live even if they do suffer persecution. Though there is discrimination and persecution from humanity, it's a real debate among the humans as to what measures should be taken against the mutants. It's only in alternate realities or future realities that they have mutants being wiped out by the rest of humanity or Sentinels. Furthermore, there's at least better reasons for humanity to fear the mutants because of the various mutant villains and their sometimes monstrous appearances. On the mutant side, Charles Xavier and Magneto present two sides of the debate as to how the mutants should approach dealing with humanity. Of course, the whole thing is still flawed because it's based on the assumption that those with power will automatically be harmful to society and that the best approach is to persecute them rather than to educate them, but at least there's some level of logic there. With Towards the Terra, there are no scenes of the Mu being a threat to society and the humans kill any Mu once they reach adolescence. They don't even try to contain them. Nope, they just wipe their memories and kill them right away. They also continuously initiate attacks on the Mu mothership even though the Mu have never gone on the offensive against them. While doing so, the soldiers and generals are shown delighting in slaughtering the Mu like they were exterminating a pest rather than doing so out of fear, which just makes it look like the humans are evil just to provide a villain for the plot.

Which is fine if this show was just a space adventure about fighting an evil genocidal enemy and you can say my qualms are explained by the humans being brainwashed, but the show actually tries to make a thematic point with this conflict as the foundation. Ultimately, the show is trying to use the Mu as a representation of human feeling while the humans represent logic and control. The reasoning is that the original humans on Earth destroyed themselves and the planet because of their evil human nature and thus needed to be controlled by a supercomputer that would tightly regiment human lives to weed out anything imperfections. And the Mu, descendants of the original humans, are considered imperfections because their feelings are so strong, and feelings make people fallible. It's the old security vs freedom debate, along with the notion that humans are inherently self destructive. Would it be better to be controlled and be safe by homogenizing the population, or is it better to have more freedom, allowing for both greater happiness and greater tragedy? But like its premise, this thematic exploration doesn't work because it provides radical viewpoints that simplify the issues at hand. If there were normal teenagers that suddenly developed dangerous superpowers, it would obviously be too extreme to immediately cull them from the population, especially since the Mu are never shown having any societal problems arising from their powers on a day to day basis. Operating with pure logic while stomping out all emotion is such an extreme, oversimplified reaction to war and a blanket solution to humanity's problems. Anarchy is bad but so is total state control. The question isn't whether or not we should be governed by a super computer but how much we should rely on AI to make decisions because such a future where AI is involved in but not dictating politics is much more realistic. So when the obvious answers to these positions are given--- the Mu shouldn't be persecuted and humanity should leave room for feeling while breaking free of an authoritarian system---the thematic thrust feels insipid.

With this premise and thematic endpoint as the basis, the show is executed more or less decently. Yes, there are time skips that cause disjointed character development, primarily for Jomy. The time skips also detracts from our sympathy for the Mu, because 8 years of suffering and longing for Terra are conveyed in two sentences and we're dropped at a point when things are finally looking up for them. For as much praise as this show gets for portraying the issues of the Mu, only one or two issues is really addressed and even then, they're addressed partially, and it's the debate between settling on a new planet or continuing to search for Terra. While the time skips are definitely a major flaw, they're also all within the first 10 episodes, so it is possible to ease yourself back into the rest of the narrative after a while. The show also likes to amp up the drama for characters that it barely paid any attention to. There's this one death scene where they pull flashbacks to eek out your tears but all the flashbacks are from 2 minutes of the last episode and half of the flashback consists of the deceased serving coffee. Another one features the deceased picking tomatoes.

So yeah, it's pretty rough in many places, but it also manages to do some things pretty well, at least given the handicapped premise. Most notably, Keith was given nuanced characterization that balanced his cold hearted, logical exterior with a buried soft spot for his friends. While he mostly follows his programming, his persecution of the Mu is also driven by his anger for what he thought the Mu did to his best friend and his decision to take a Mu under his wing is informed by a prior tragedy. In addition, initially, we get a little bit of resonance with his loneliness and existential crisis because of his background. The other lead, Jomy, had his growth cut off by a timeskip but he does grow into a better leader later on in the show. He's actually surprisingly likable as far as space opera/mecha leads are concerned because he's sympathetic and gentle without being preachy, and struggling with leadership without being too angsty. Everyone else's development is mostly rushed or plot-driven, but they're serviceable in their roles, with some being more annoying than others (Shiroe is a jerk and Matsuka is a wimp). No one's personality shines and you'll probably remember them for their angst.

To its credit, the plot can get pretty compelling, especially in the latter half, and the characters are inoffensive for the most part, so I can see a lot of people enjoying this show and getting an "epic" feeling about it. However, I felt that the story and characters were built upon a weak foundation of cartoonish conflicts and themes, undermining most of the merit in those categories. It's impossible for me to feel bad for the Mu because their persecution feels so arbitrary and it's impossible for me to admire the character development when it mostly go towards forming trite attitudes toward war and peace (Oh, maybe I was wrong about the Mu and humanity shouldn't be controlled by a questionable AI/ Oh, people die in war and this makes me want revenge but this turns me into the monster that I'm fighting... etc). My preferences aside, almost everyone can agree that the ending is rushed and sappy.

Now for the technical aspects, which were pretty decent but nondescript:

Music

The emotional pieces do their job well, evoking emotion even if the tragedy revolves around a character I barely knew. I thought some of the piano pieces were somewhat distinctive and I might listen to them on their own. The openings are forgettable. The endings are enticing at first but when the vocals come in they sink into mediocrity.

Visuals

The series is very well rendered and sports character designs that easily lend to emotional expression while remaining restrained. Though I didn't pay that much attention the animation and the battles, I think they were decently animated and had a good amount of tension. My issue with the show that kept me from watching it for so long was that the colors are too dull, but at the same time this fits its somber tone.

English Dub
It's mostly fine. I don't know if this is a problem in the sub but at times the voice actors couldn't pull off the dramatic scenes without sounding cheesy, and in particular Matsuka sounded laughable while they were trying to pull off a wimpy voice.

If I completely missed the nuance in Towards the Terra and its ideas actually make sense, then yeah this is a very good show. If I did, please let me hear about it. But otherwise, no matter how well it went it executed itself, its weak foundation ensures that it would always be skewed. Towards the Terra has many tragedies, but none of them are worth a tear from me.

This show might be better than Kino's Journey, Mononoke, and Mushishi.

Or I don't know, it could be a 5.

It all depends on how you read it. I read it as more Twilight Zone than Twilight, embracing its nature as an anthology series. All the shows I mentioned are episodic and yet are held in high regard, so even though every review of this show bashes it for being too episodic, being episodic in itself is not the problem. The question is, how well does it play to its type by using its episodic nature and supernatural elements to explore the darker parts of ... human nature?

Very well.

Having seen many shows of a similar nature, I think it's one of the most successful examples of its type in large part due to its ambiguity. In many shows of this type the theme and moral the episodes are propagating are relatively clear-cut and straightforward. Beyond the high production values and initial twists, there isn't a lot to digest. Any moral dilemmas are also presented front and center so that you know that now's the time to start philosophizing. By contrast, the themes in Vampire Princess Miyu's episodes are usually half buried; there will usually be a surface level moral, usually one that contextualizes the episode as a tragedy, but there will also be another way of viewing the events that reframes the themes or adds more depth to them, and it's not one that the show makes obvious. The episodes are ambiguous not because the plot is confusing, for what happens is apparent, but because they can be viewed from different angles. Perhaps the person you felt bad for because he suffered the tragedy wasn't as innocent as you thought.

And that's why I didn't find the series as depressing as most other viewers. Overdone tragedy that's sad just for the sake of being sad doesn't actually make me sad. If that was the show's intention, I wouldn't like it very much. I think the core of each episode wasn't the tragic aspect of it, but the psychology of the victims of tragedy as well as how the supernatural elements mirrored their internal conflicts--- there are some aspects of Dante's Inferno going on here. Every tragic element added onto the end of each episode added to the psychological or thematic depth of the episode in a way that would not have been possible with a happy ending.

Unless I'm reading too much into it and the creators were really that simple minded. Fortunately, you don't have to take my word for it. I've posted my thoughts on most of the episodes in the forums for this show so you can see for yourself if it's a case of the emperor's new clothes.

But to give you a general idea of what this series is about for now, the pervading themes are loneliness, the burdens of adulthood, work culture, societal pressure, and the possessive nature of love, even though plot-wise most of the episodes have nothing to do with each other. It also talks a lot about destiny, which is almost always complete nonsense unless a story uses destiny to represent some overbearing force in life. My hypothesis is that it's using destiny to represent the inescapability of societal conformity, whether it be social status or work culture.

My biggest problem with the series is actually what everyone else likes about the series; the overarching plot. It was too rushed and abrupt to accomplish much in the way of emotional or thematic resonance, which greatly hurt its character depth as well as my opinion of the series as a whole. It's as if all the pieces have been put into place, waiting for a bow to tie it all together, but instead the series crumbles along with its potential. Without a solid ending to contextualize them, the individual episodes feel much weaker. It feels like the themes are just there--- the human condition is observed but not commented on and not taken advantage of to develop the individual condition of Miyu. This weakness is especially glaring because unlike other shows like Mushishi, where the atmosphere is an experience in itself, Vampire Princess Miyu's modest art and animation as well as underwhelming fight sequences lower the value of the standalone episodes where the plot or themes might be lacking. What they should've done was devote a little bit of time each episode to relate the cases back to something personal for Miyu so that she could develop slowly and build up to her momentous decision at the end of the series. Even Darker Than Black, a series also defined by great individual episodes but a poor ending, managed to do that.

On the other hand, would this show have worked as a pure anthology series? I think that'd be hard to pull off, because usually series like that have a more flavorful mix of tones and emotions along with strong visual presentation. With Mushishi, there is a mix of happy, sad, and bittersweet endings along with a neutral, relaxing atmosphere that's less emotionally taxing. Doing 26 episodes of dark psychological stuff means that the show would lack the variety necessary to keep viewers interested, even if the episodes have nice twists and psychological insights. It can still be a good show, but will strain to be a great one unless it executes itself with more panache.

I haven't even talked about the characters yet (you can read the plot synopsis in the description), and that's because I view the recurring characters as mostly being facilitators for the episodic stories until the final slate of episodes when the overarching plot kicks in. Miyu's general archetype is the stoic, reserved girl with an angsty background in the same vein as Lain, but she adds nuance to this role with her dry, dark sense of humor and willingness to make friends. She's not shy or immune to the occasional smile. Her companion Shiina is the more lively complement to her reserved persona, forming a pair similar to Kino and Hermes. There's not much to Laava, her equally reserved, faithful bishounen servant. Miyu's trio of school girl friends are ostensibly there to fill the space, but their banter is natural and makes for some good exchanges. Most importantly, they're not high-pitched cutesy moeblobs, so they end up pretty likable. Unfortunately, the episodic plots end up overshadowing Miyu, whose detached demeanor makes for a weak presence. Seeing as how the show is called Vampire Princess Miyu, this is a bit of a problem--- one that is not successfully rectified by the last few episodes pertaining to the main story.

The English dub for the main cast is fine. Miyu and her friends can come across as too monotone, which is fine most of the time but becomes a problem in scenes that call for more emotion, even if Miyu's personality is supposed to be demure. The Japanese dub maintains that lowkey quality but can also channel emotion without it being too stark of a contrast with the series' usual tone.

Speaking of the tone, what stood out to me was that though the content of the series readily makes for melodrama, the series consistently plays it cool, avoiding closeups of large tear drops, overly cutesified characters to evoke sympathy, and sentimental music. It's as if each tragedy is muted; it doesn't feel like a single, incredibly sad moment, but rather one that is woven into a deeper, permanent sadness pervading the entire series.

This is reflected in the themes as well as the music by Kenji Kawai, unmistakably the best part of the series and what drew me into watching it in the first place. Despite having to accompany such depressing moments, it doesn't come off as edgy or maudlin. Having listened to most of his major works, I can say for certain that this OST is one of, if not the best, soundtracks Kawai has ever done, right up there with Moribito. It is the quintessential example of his style at its best, made possible by a shade of sadness rarely seen in anime.

In summary, if you watch this show in a straightforward way, it's not going to be very impressive despite having some nice twists, because you'd either hunger for a main storyline or get tired of repeated tragedy. But if you give it the benefit of the doubt and are willing to overthink a bit, most of the episodes are ambiguous enough to reward you with more subtle insights. As the series wore on I found myself having to rewatch episodes, not because I didn't know what happened, but because I didn't know what each episode was trying to say. It's not going to be anything "deep" but rather the act of interpreting each episode is interesting, even if I'm reading things that might not be there. One thing I'm definitely not overthinking is the last episode, which rivals the last episode of Eva in terms of being a puzzle box, and I'd greatly appreciate it if anyone has any idea what it's saying in the end. Everyone says this show's outlook is stark black because it presents a dichotomy between death or living a life chained by destiny, but I seriously doubt anyone would actually propagate such a worldview in their story, or at least, not without some nuance to it.

Ultimately, despite my high rating, I'm still conflicted about whether or not it works as a whole, especially since the low production values and a lack of shine from Miyu herself put the burden on the story and themes to deliver the goods.

Madoka Magica seems to be one of those love-it-or-hate-it type anime, and as someone who doesn't like it, I hope I can still explain both sides of the debate. But first, I'll describe its basic story structure, characters, and themes, and take into account the context of the show's production.

Story and Themes

The overarching plot follows Madoka as she learns more about the dark nature of magical girls through her encounters with them, all the while trying to decide if she should become one herself. Though this should come as no surprise considering Gen Urobuchi's style and Madoka Magica itself being already famous as a ... deconstruction, the events can be summarized as twists designed to show the unforeseen negative consequences arising from heroism and idealism. In doing so, the show establishes a world full of inevitable tragedy in order to set up for a hopeful conclusion; it tries to bring you low so that the message of hope feels uplifting and cathartic at the end. Along the way, the scenarios that the magical girls find themselves in evoke several questions such as:

-Is the sacrifice required to be a hero really worth it?
-Am I doing heroic acts for selfish reasons?
-Is good destined to be negated by bad?
-Is tragedy inevitable or can fate be changed?

Characters

The characters are very divisive--- on one hand, each of the girls has a compelling internal conflict and sympathetic situations. On the other hand, their personalities by themselves are archetypal and in twelve episodes there is not enough time and attention given to them to flesh them out and give them fuller arcs. Madoka is an exception with regards to a fuller arc because she's the one character that the show follows for 12 episodes, but again, her personality remains archetypal. On the other end, Homura is the most egregious example of how rushed the characters were, as her backstory was given in one episode and her relationship with Madoka was established in a few minutes. Many people will cry for her backstory because the trope they use is naturally poignant, but since Madoka Magica never puts in the work to put the meat on the barebones framework, all I see is a plot device used for cheap emotional manipulation.

SPOILERS

You know that romantic trope where a couple deeply in love separate because one person had a memory loss, and we watch the other's heartwrenching efforts to reach/protect their amnesiac lover? Madoka Magica basically uses the same structure compressed into 20 minutes to manipulate your emotions the same way.

ENDSPOILERS

Meta-view

In combination with the story, the characters feel like they were designed to propagate the message and carry out the twists rather than people first and foremost. This makes sense when you consider how Gen Urobuchi described his writing process for this show: "He said he would first determine the actions and the ultimate fate of a character before even assigning it a name, and contrasted this with other writing methods that first focused on developing the characters and then creating a storyline for them to follow," according to Wikipedia's paraphrase of his interview (original interview found here: http://ultrajumpegg.com/#/column/0004/0029/02). In addition, comments made by the creators strongly indicate that their intention was to shock viewers by lulling them in with the cutesy exterior and following it up with death and despair.

All this is relevant because 1)a show should be able to stand on its own even you know the shock is coming 2) some people praise the show for the shock effect itself 3)the show has a reputation for being a deconstruction of the magical girl genre. I'd love to evaluate a show on its own merits, but in this case it's necessary to disentangle Madoka Magica from its hype and shock factor before I can do that.

So first, is Madoka Magica good because it's a deconstruction of the magical girl genre? My response is, was there anything worth deconstructing in the first place? As literaturenerd said, the magical girl genre has always been tongue-in-cheek--- I don't think anyone who watches a magical girl show is unaware that it's a bad idea to put so much power and responsibility in the hands of an adolescent girl while also endangering her life. Furthermore, I doubt those same people are sitting there complaining about the cartoony, unrealistic stories in a animated show whose main target demographic is young girls. Bottom line is, simply exposing all the downsides of being a magical girl isn't saying anything groundbreaking. Evangelion wasn't just a show depicting all the downsides of being a mech pilot; that was only one facet of a larger central theme about depression.

That's not to say that all Madoka Magica tries to be is a deconstruction of the magical girl genre, especially since at its core it's more of a deconstruction of idealism and a proponent of hope in the face of despair. So I'm not bashing the show, but pointing out that being a deconstruction of the magical girl genre wouldn't be primarily what makes it good.

However, I do think the show's reliance on shock factor to deconstruct idealism and heroism undermines what it's trying to do. And this is because shock, by its nature, is jarring and unexpected. Thus, using shock factor to show that there are negative consequences to idealism and heroism causes a disconnect between cause and effect. Instead of telling a fluid, reasonable story about how being too idealistic can gradually turn someone sour and lead them down a path of self-destruction, the situations in Madoka Magica come across more as, you tried to do the right thing, but then that inevitably leads to something bad happening even if that something had a 1 in a million chance of happening. As a series of coincidences, the story is blunt and heavy handed in its attempts to discuss idealism, but in fact it goes further and lays down laws of karmic destiny that stipulate that something bad happens every time you try to do something good. By contrast, Griffith's actions at the end of Berserk certainly created a lot of shock, but at the same time his decision felt natural because the show had spent so much time creating ambiguity around the nature of Griffith's ambition. Madoka Magica came the closest to this with Sayaka's story, but not only is it too rushed, the introduction of karmic destiny and the inevitable fate of magical girls undermines all the naturality of her arc. It's quite telling about his philosophy that Urobuchi used Osama Bin Laden as an example when he said that good intentions don't always lead to good results. Terrorists' "good intentions" meant killing a whole bunch of people and they succeeded. They achieved exactly the result they wanted. Urobuchi has characters try to help other people, only for it to somehow backfire and lead to them getting killed.

Because the show is so forced, so blunt, so contrived in order to produce shock factor, its message of hope doesn't have the proper foundation to lift off. As a viewer, I didn't feel hopeful at the end because I know all the bad stuff that occurred in response to idealism were either highly unlikely, or entirely preventable and just seemed shocking because the girls were too immature to think two steps ahead.

On that note, the best case I can make for the show thematically isn't that it's a deconstruction of the magical girl genre or idealism, but rather a coming-of-age story. That way, the stupid decisions of the girls and unforeseen events make sense from the point of view of adolescent girls, because making decisions as you mature is hard and scary, and reality seems beyond your control. Though the show would still be too rushed, the characters too bland, and the events too contrived, thematically it would be more sound.

On the other side of the debate, it's easy to see this show working for a lot of people. Though the show is rushed, the fast pace and shock factor can make for a thrilling ride. Though the characters are bland in terms of personality, the situations the girls find themselves in and their internal conflicts might be compelling and sympathetic enough to draw you in. Though the events are contrived, it seems many people have found them rich with philosophical and moral implications, especially with its talk about fate. If you buy into everything here, then you will be emotionally invested enough to be wowed by its hopeful finale.

Buuuut I didn't so 5/10.

If you want to see an anime that's actually about how girls realistically deal with despair and a hopeless fate, watch Red Garden.