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Story
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An anthropomorphic loaf of bread explodes in a shower of blood red carrot juice. What did I just see? The first episode closes out with that with that exact image. It’s startling, disgusting and intriguing all at the same time. I was left with a feeling of shock and awe that something that cute was left in such a gruesome heap.

Jinrui wa Suitai Shimashita left a lasting impression with all the shenanigans it pulls. From being sucked into a manga where the popularity of the book was the key to survival to sentient space satellites that came to Earth to escape their fates, the tales ... it weaves are bursting with creativity. It was a breath of fresh air, as the series actively avoiding using too many tropes as a crutch. While at times it can get confusing as to what or why something is happening onscreen, it never fails to provoke a thought or coax out a laugh.

This surprisingly vivid plot is painted against a very dire backdrop. Humanity is in its final stages before extinction. The population is dwindling, food is in shortage, and the very foundations of civilization are crumbling. Art, education and culture are afterthoughts for survival. Humanity’s vacated throne over the Earth is being taken by super intellectual pocket-sized dwarves that are referred to as fairies whom the humans look toward to find a key to their salvation.

Most of the insanity in the story is cause by these bite-sized creatures. They never fail to amaze by building miniature cities in the blink of an eye or warping time and space itself. Their presence, a hope for humanity, is what infuses the tale with so much charm and vibrancy.

Luckily the craziness is contained in smaller two-episode stories. The structure makes the surprises manageable, mitigating complexity. There are loose connections between each that hold the overall series together, but the serialized nature does forego the opportunity to tell a cohesive narrative though. Instead it favors world building, and pouring all its writing into creating a deep setting that I can’t help but want to explore.

The setting is crucial in achieving the goals of this series. Most of the ‘arcs’ are skewed towards satire, criticizing concepts from materialism to current copyright laws. While having knowledge of these issues makes it all the more engrossing, it isn’t required. A viewer can still derive pleasure from the well paced episodes and strong comedic writing.

Sadly though, considering all of these elements, the insanity, serialization and satire, the plot doesn’t have any focus. There isn’t an overarching statement that show is trying to make, and none of the character arcs have a sense of beginning, middle or end. Jinrui wa Suitai Shimashita had a chance to be a very powerful and moving show but that opportunity is never taken advantage of sadly.

Take note, this series is not aired in chronological order. All things considered, this doesn’t hamper the enjoyment of the series because of, as stated before, the serialized nature of the show. Considering that it can be watched in either the air or chronological order, there is nothing particular that should make you choose one over the other except for preference.

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Characters
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I was in love with Ms.Sweets. She isn’t your typical heroine. Her cynical nature is expertly masked by her cute face and excellent manners. At times she could be a bit blunt but that is part of her charm. At times her selfish desires hid her heart of gold but she would simply reply that it was her human nature.

The pink haired lead is surrounded by an eccentric supporting cast. They each have a unique personality that accents the scatterbrained plot quite nicely. From the mute Assistant that wear Hawaiian shirts to the yuri-obsessed Y, this series has a commendable retinue of memorable folk.

The fairies can’t be forgotten in this equation, but since there are so many of them, they feel more like a plot device than anything. Sure they’re more off the way than any of their fellow character, but they don’t have any sort of concrete backstory or personality. All you can really glean from them is they have a penchant for anything sugary and edible and a slightly sadistic side.

But even for all the merits of the cast, as I stated before, their character arcs are unsatisfactory even for the lead. Some backstories are fleshed out but not many of their threads are tied. For Ms.Sweets, we learn one of her weaknesses but aren’t given a satisfactory conclusion to the direction her life is moving. At times it feels like the cast is stuck in a quagmire of interesting but ultimately pointless plot points.

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Production
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This series boasts some great visuals. It was like opening a hand painted children’s book. Every setting looks like it’s washed in vivid watercolors. Character designs follow in the same vein, combining pastel shades with more precise line work. The smooth animation does the artwork justice and doesn’t distract from the great art.

The audio work on the other hand is a bit hit and miss for me. I am not a fan of nano.RIPE, so the opening was grating to my ears. The closing is in the same vein, where Masumi Ito’s vocals just didn’t appeal to me. The rest of the soundtrack is pleasant enough but doesn’t stand out in away. It’s a swath of simple piano melodies that do just enough to set the mood.

The voice acting of Mai Nakahara is excellent though. She delivers a standout performance for Ms.Sweets and her slightly deadpan delivery instill the character with a lot of personality. Miyuki Sawashiro, one of my favorite seiyuu, is amongst the cast and is representative of the median quality of the performances, simply fantastic.

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Overall
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I won’t be forgetting Jinrui wa Suitai Shimashita any time soon. Its quirky sense of humor and social satire combine to make a very enjoyable watch. While I do have some reservations about the structure of the plot and the effect it had on the characters, this series is for anyone that doesn’t want to watch the typical anime.

Check out more reviews, previews and anime discussion at www.sushigokart.net

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Story
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While watching Natsuyuki Rendezvous I can’t help but remember my close encounters with love. I can see Pearl running through the hallways like a whirlwind rushing to class. I only hope to catch her attention for a second just to exchange ‘Hi’s. Stephanie is crying at a train station because of an argument we just had. All I can do is watched through the foggy glass of the train doors. Jayce is sending me a text telling me that she’s willing to go on a second date.

Hope, failure and success, are the three memories I feel love leaves us with.

I don’t know if I am ... just naive or young, maybe both, but the story hit all these notes within its short one cour run. The emotional journey that Hazuki, Shimao and Rokka undertake is a roller coaster, twisting and curving as their fates become intertwined with one another. As the car comes back into the station, my notion of love wasn’t changed, but reinforced by those serpentine tracks.

Sometimes a story doesn’t needs to tell something new. The premise of the series isn’t exciting on paper. Hazuki is a young man that happens to fall in love with the owner of a small flower shop, Rokka. He eventually begins to work there as a means to get close to her. As he tries to muster the courage to confess, he meets the spirit of her dead husband, Shimao, who is bent on stopping him.

The prospect of a ghost in love is charted territory. The same stands for love triangles and unrequited feelings. But the universality of these themes and their ability to evoke relatable experiences within the audience is what makes them important. These are the hooks that pulled me in and made me much more receptive to the characters and the events that unfolded.

It isn’t what the story is telling, but how it’s being told. Fantastic writing is the foundation for an engrossing tale. The seamless dialogue flowed from one scene to the next. Monologues weren’t overbearing and acted as signposts in the direction the plot was moving. The pacing was slow but it gave the ideas of the series enough breathing room to simmer, resonate, and turn it into something memorable.

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Characters
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The series focuses on the lives of three characters: Hazuki, Rokka and Shimao. There aren’t many others that play a substantial supporting role but considering the brevity of this series, they would serve as distractions. By limiting the size of the cast, Natsuyuki Rendezvous is able to build complex characters that are very believable.

Hazuki is a young man who doesn’t seem to have much going for him. His only driving force in life seems to be his feelings for Rokka. As the show progresses we find a man that is deeply in touch with his emotions, with an astonishing lucidity when it comes to understanding others.

Rokka on the other hand seems to be a secure and independent middle aged woman that runs her own flower shop. Soon enough her insecurities about her past and her inability to come to terms with her husbands death come to bear. She always seems to be at odds with catching up to the present as her memories threaten to hold her back.

Shimao comes off as a selfish ghost that can’t let go of his wife. Every action he takes solidifies this idea of him. But he is just an individual that is struggling between letting go of a world that is constantly trying to pull him back. As with all ghost’s he wants closure, but at the cost of ruining the lives of those that still have it.

Each character has their own personal dilemmas to overcome of the course of the story. They not only deal with the ramifications of their actions but are clearly conscious of the reasoning behind them as well. Careful attention to cause and effect is a powerful tool for developing strong characters that learn, grow and ultimately evolve.

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Production
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To be quite frank the art production in the first half of the series isn’t amazing. The bright palette and attention to foreground detail does redeem it slightly, but it is otherwise only serviceable. The second half of the series takes a stark upturn in creativity. The introduction of the storybook world of Shimao creates an interesting collage effect that contrasts the sketches of his realm with the solid colors of the real world. Little details in both settings are highlighted by the differences and give life and vibrancy to each.

The opening theme ”See You” by Yuya Matsushita is simple, accented by a piano melody. Matsushita has a strong vocal performance that drives this song. “Anata ni Deawanakereba” by Aimer, is a fitting closing theme that evokes an atmosphere of melancholy. It’s one of my favorite songs in recent memory. I could feel the heartbreak in her voice. Her delivery combined with the fantastic lyrics served as a proper punctuation to each episode.

The excellent audio production continues with the great voice acting. Yuuichi Nakamura (Hazuki), Sayaka Ohara (Rokka) and Jun Fukuyama (Shimao) all give great performances that actualizes the well written script. Nakamura is a clear standout as his acting gives a sense of progression as Hazuki develops as a character.

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Overall
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Natsuyuki Rendezvous doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel but gives a story that is easy to relate to. The elements of its tale evoke the summer and all its brightness and warmth. It proves that well written characters and dialogue are sometimes all it takes for a show to succeed. For fans of the Josei or romance, this one rendezvous you don’t want to miss.

For more reviews, previews, and anime discussion, check out www.sushigokart.net !

Ga Rei: Zero’s high octane first episode introduces us to a troupe of interesting characters, filled with spirited action, a dark storyline and… death. Within twenty-two minutes, it offers a plot twist to shock the viewer. As a result, the quick pacing is disorienting, foreshadowing a show in love with combat and slacking on story.

Ga Rei: Zero is anything but that. From episode two, the narrative takes a decidedly steady stride after forcing our heads underwater. Letting us come up for air, its easy to take in the world. Set in an alternate version of Japan, the government is engaged in a secret war ... with the paranormal enlisting the help of exorcists. Being from a family of exorcists herself, Kagura is pulled into the struggle of ‘good vs. evil’. Now in any other anime this set up would be an excuse for large-scale battles between spirits and their hunters. But Ga Rei: Zero uses it as a frame to focus on the associations of its characters.

Centering on the relationship of the dark-haired Yomi and the younger Kagura, the story seems more slice of life than science fiction, as the two grow to love one another as sisters. At times it appears like the plot is having an identity crisis, focusing on the playful exchanges of the pair before shifting gears into a supernatural skirmish. While jarring at first blush, the writers took effort to weave the two strands together, carefully paving the heroine’s path to a momentous climax.

Midnight hues evoke a gloom that haunts over the cast. Colors are appropriately muted during moments of tension. These scenes feel almost like watercolors at moments, fluorescent lighting casting a thin haze over the crisp drawings. Serving as the perfect stage, these set pieces host seamless animation, though the action can seem a bit stiff at times when slow motion is used. The only major detractor is the obtrusive CGI, a blending of cell shading and realistic textures, which feels out of place. A glaring example is the gargantuan Kasha beast in the first episode. Its flames look plastic and the edges of grey skin are jagged from poor aliasing.


The brisk opening "Paradise Lost" by Minori Chihara has a tinge of pessimism while reflecting on the ties of love. It’s pleasant to the ear while tied to the motifs of the Ga Rei: Zero, which is what every OP should do. The ending theme "Yume no Ashioto ga Kikoeru" by Mizuhara Kaoru is filled with melancholy, sober when compared to the Chihara’s offering. Both pieces are excellent and are accompanied by an appropriate soundtrack that has a similar sound. The voice acting is done well, Kagura’s innocence perfectly captured while Yomi’s expressions are handled expertly from teasing to tender. Nothing really stands out from the supporting cast except for Mitogawa, the villain, whose innocent tone is both vacant and eerie.

Ga Rei: Zero offers the typical shounen tango of heroes and baddies as a young heroine comes to term with the assertive grip of ‘destiny’. Kagura questions if it’s acceptable to kill the possessed corpses who still look human. The protagonist’s vacillation is the girl’s tragic flaw that inevitably leads her to the footsteps of the stunning conclusion. Admirably maturing Kagura through the twelve episodes from vulnerability to independence, Ga Rei: Zero executes an effective coming of age tale.

Yomi acts as a foil to Kagura’s growth. As the story progresses, she becomes less and less grounded in reality. It’s disheartening to watch her mentally unravel, her transformation is perversely beautiful as the once a supportive guide becomes the antagonists.

Sadly, the supporting characters are an expendable commodity in this production. The audience is introduced to a whole platoon of faces, from those in the Minstry of Defense, to those in the Agency. The program has no shame, liberally murdering likable persona throughout the installments.

Taking a simple formula of mixing Ghostbusters, Men In Black, and a bit of high school drama, Ga Rei became a wildly popular manga in Japan. Ga Rei: Zero serves as a prequel to the drawn word, focusing on the relationship of Kagura and her adoptive sister Yomi. Narratives of this nature raise a few questions: Is it accessible to those who are not familiar with franchise? If so, does the program offer anything to those foreign to the series?

The answer to both is an emphatic yes. Ga Rei: Zero serves a powerful story, wrought with impact, memorable characters and excellent production value. Not only does it reinforce the happenings of the main storyline, it seduces you into the dark embrace of Kagura’s world, imploring that you give the manga at least a passing glance.

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Comments and Constructive Criticism is Welcome
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Story
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I was in search for breasts. I know… I know… Ecchi anime doesn’t usually leave a pleasant taste in the mouth, but I’m a man, and I live in the now! No one can tell me that alien crime fighters with swelling bosoms aren’t quality entertainment. So I sat there, legs crossed, pondering what I could watch. I took the necessary steps, asked a few of my friends who lurked in the dank recesses of their mother’s basement, desperate carnal housewives and of course, the internet. To my surprise the vast archives ... Google unfurled the arms of its vast archives to reveal Birdy: a futuristic Venus, flecked tresses and state-of-the-art thong. Was she who I was looking for?

It’s easy to see the lead’s character model in the opening few minutes of Birdy the Mighty: Decode and inaccurately assume that this show aims for sensuality instead of substance. On the contrary, it’s a blend: a large helping of action and science fiction, a few doses of political struggle and a shot of comedy some zest of romance thrown in for good measure. These elements play friendly enough together, but this is where the series falters; the plot strands tangle themselves into a distracted wreck.

It starts modestly enough; Birdy has come to Earth from Altaria to investigate Geega, a smuggler who nabbed an unknown alien artifact. Her pursuit leads her to the abandoned hollows of an abandoned warehouse, where Tsutomo becomes ensnared in the ensuing melee between the two extraterrestrials. The experience leaves him a mangled mess of crimson pools and crippled limbs. The solution: our heroine decides to house the boy’s conscious in her own body while his carcass is shipped off for reconstruction.

The narrative is driven by the quarrels between the two, both trying to reconcile the fact their lives aren’t their own anymore. As Tsutomo tries to get back on the rails of reality, Birdy struggles for control, trying to maintain some job security as an intergalactic investigator. My interest in their back and forth was slender at best, most of the dialogue slanting towards comedy punctuated by tender moments of little depth. A simple remedy would be to focus on the potential of the relationship and expanding it, but as I said before the plot pieces on so many factors they can’t fit into the 13 episodes.

The scenarios begin to thicken with the introduction of the Fedearition and the Union, two large interplanetary governments that are vying to annex the neutral territories that separate them and suppress conflict. After taking front stage and center for a few installments it disappears into the background, nonchalantly hinted at in the last two sections. The product of this bureaucratic boxing and science fiction setting establish frames for some intense action, which fade when the writers decided to blanket the storyline with a romance.

Tsutomo begins to mingle with a classmate, Sawaka, which eventually blossoms into the wholesome love of youth. It’s a touching affair, choreographed dances of awkwardness and naivety. It might be the strongest aspect the entire series, as it burgeons into a memorable peak. It would have left a palatable taste in my mouth if it weren’t for the wrap up in the final episode.

The pulp of Birdy the Might Decode is disemboweled from the fruit and tossed out in it’s a final moments. The climax is rendered to meaninglessness and the courtship of the two children is scrapped. I thought to myself, “What the hell was all this for then?” Backtracking, I revaluated my final impressions, “Well this is a sequel, and perhaps there is hope.” The program is unsatisfying, yet it benefits from having a future; that maybe space-cop and I can kiss and make up.

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Art
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Amazing. Few shows can match the quality of animation in Birdy the Mighty Decode, being beat out by productions such as X’amd: The Lost Memories. The world vibrates with color, accented with unpretentious cell shaded CGI. The alien set-pieces favor using natural curves, their technology giving living and breathing impression. The character designs reflect the form, sleek lines and bold hues. They look at their best in action, moving gracefully over building rooftops, theatrical sets and extraterrestrial arenas. Watching them being reduced to rubble by otherworldly brouhaha is a feast for the eyes.

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Sound
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The sound does not match the ‘amazing’ of the animation but holds it’s own. The voice actors earn their salaries, but don’t go over and above the call of duty. The opening is a sprightly J-pop tune that follows the vivid palette. The rest of the soundtrack is a mesh drawing from both techno-pop and classical instruments mirroring the clash between the hi-tech Altarians and the underdeveloped earthlings. It’s a decent package rounded out by the happy-go-lucky ED that annoys with it’s extensive use of Japlish. I guess it could be considered cute… but broken English doesn’t sit well with my ears.

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Characters
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It’s fitting the Tsutomo and Birdy share a body, each being so meager in depth that you could fit it into one frame. More so the former than the latter, as he proves to have an uncompromised sense of a justice and gawky handling of the female species typical of middle-school aged males. Scenes of Birdy’s past are shaded in, indicating she wasn’t always the goody two shoed defender of the galaxy she is now. It’s paltry, but at least its something.

The supporting cast doesn’t offer much either, the fair face Sawaka being the most delectable of the group. Her balancing act is impressive, teetering from pubescent teen to tortured soul to the sterling daughter of a tycoon. The other notable character is the antagonist, Shyamalan, who give no rhyme of reason as to why he is the bad guy. He ends up coming off as a Global Neo-Nazi Facist with a fetish for Darwinian lingo. An improvement in character development would have helped prop up and even suppress some of the disorientation of the plot, but instead just adds to it.

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Overall
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It’s hard to recommend Birdy the Might Decode because of its wayward storytelling and cardboard characters. But it does offer entertainment, a slick production and engaging combat all within thirteen episodes. It’s a short series that pledges a sequel, a continuation that hopefully unlocks the promising aspects of the series while maintaining it strengths. It wasn’t the hi-tech ecchi series I was looking for, but the results were the same, the insipid relish left lingering on my tongue.

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Story
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“And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
-Khalil Gibran

The sheets of rain curtained onto the barren streets, while a single boy runs for shelter into a bus stop. He looked skinnier than usual, as the white fabric clung to his pale flesh and the shadows plastered to his features. Sliding onto the bench, he slipped out his cellphone, fiddling with it for a bit before the screen came chirping to life. The beep ricocheted through his heart like a jolt of electricity, bringing his attention to the email he received. He had waited ... a year to see her name typed, “From: Mikako”.

Voices of a Distant Star doesn’t have ambitions to be some theatrical space opera or intergalactic epic of Star Wars-like proportions. It’s a romantic heart dressed in a science-fiction dress, trimmed with mecha and aliens that seek to destroy all of mankind. Exciting isn’t it? But we all know love is about personality, not the looks. Through the smokescreen of whirring missiles and the winding tentacles of Tassarian battleships lies a tale of two star-crossed lovers torn apart by deep-space combat.

Makoto Shinkai debut effort sets the motif that threads together his future work, two lovers sundered by the realities of society, its framework and how love’s pale fingers can stretch to the limitless boundaries of remoteness. It’s a microscopic mirror into the mind of Shinkai, who develops these themes in much greater depth in 5 Centimeters per Second and The Place Promised in Our Early Days, but the sense of separation between these particular characters feels the most immense, caulked by vacuum of the heavens. His two actors, Mikako and Nobura, are middle school students that fancy spending high school together, trading dreams of Kendo club and buying ice cream at the local convenience store. These daytime reveries shatter when Mikako reveals she will be a pilot, helming a mech to combat a threat to humanity.

The narrative hinges on the emails exchanged by the two friends, as the dividing light-years cause their messages to take longer and longer to deliver. Minutes and hours quickly precipitate into months and years. As the breadth of day grow, Mikako’s gloom and isolation become palpable as she flounders in her heartache. Her outcast from the account of earthly time is distressing to watch, frozen in her fifteen-year-old frame as Noboru ages across an eternity. The exchanges delicately nurture the climax, Nobura receiving a wandering text many years later, as the layers of melancholy and rejection sweep over the viewer. It’s bittersweet, but that’s how I take my chocolate.

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Animation
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The frames of Voices from a Distant Star are torn from the pages of a sketchbook. Frayed lines crisscross one another, actualized into shape by a wash of pastel watercolors. It’s breathtaking, yet curiously unassuming, asking the audience to focus on the interaction of the characters instead of the hushed hallows of ‘Random Japanse Suburb 1’.

The placid humdrum of the town is broken up by hyper technological CGI sequences involving giant robots, deviant aliens, and a mobiles of heavenly bodies. The sections seem obtrusive, jarring even, compared to the tranquil hues of earth. Reason being, the 3D sections are of amateur quality, textures are grainy and the rendering is poorly aliased, caked up in overembellished lighting effects. The animation is comparatively clunky, as the steel clad titans stumble through each scene. My homesickness quickly dissipated when the camera traveled back to the dulcet foyers of ‘Random Japanese Suburb 1’.

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Sound
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A companionless piano is kept by a metronome’s heartache, as its solitary steps pave an upsetting chant. The instrument stands on it’s feeble as it’s chord echo Mikako’s alienation and Noburo’s fortitude. It’s the glue that holds together the collages Shinkai assembles with his imagery and dialogue, which at times falls flat. Shinkai and his fiancé in the original did the voices of the leads, and professional seiyuu were employed for the mass distributed version. In either, Mikako’s voice is a monotone murmur, absent of any sort of emotional inflection till the very end. Noburo suffers from a similar affliction, but atleast his voice is audible. Like the Animation, the sound and music stands on uneven footing, faltering from time to time.

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Characters
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Both protagonists don’t have much bulk to them, reflected by their flip-book style of artwork. Most of what we know comes from the events that unfold within the twenty-three minutes, back story ignored. Most of the character development is driven by the communication between the two students and how it fuels their catharsis in the final moments. I couldn’t ask for more from a short film, and was surprised at the magnitude of effect their romance had on me.

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Overall
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I’ve had these feelings before, sitting at the airport as my girlfriend kissed me on the apple of cheek instead of saying goodbye. I thought about how the Rockies, the desert, the Great Plains, and Wisconsin separated us. My heart pelted against my chest as I as the final few seconds wound down from the Quicktime counter. Voices of a Distant Star is a powerful work of art and a stunning display of storytelling which I highly recommend.

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Story
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“In the sky, there is no distinction of east and west; people create distinctions out of their own minds and then believe them to be true.”
-Buddah

The audience opens their eyes to a set of wrought iron stairs, coiling about a brilliant pillar of golden light. It illuminates the dreary recesses of this world, the rusting iron, the sluggish gait of the excavators leaving their cubicles. This is the fate of mankind, stuffed into the interiors of the planet because the surface has rotted away from overpopulation. At least it’s not global warming that dooms us, Pale Cacoon predicts it’s a lack of protection. ...

My fascination was pulled into the dank crypt of Ura and Riko, the two leads, as Pale Cocoon toys with many concepts. Environmentalism and population pollution are obvious themes but only scratch the surface. More interestingly, the narrative asks whether the past is on any use when there is no escape from your present? The theme is expanded as the characters are asked to question their reality and prove to themselves the sky of once-upon-a-time is truly gone. It’s ambitious, aiming for annals of philosophical abstraction even with its twenty-three minute scope. It’s grand but it has a humble foundation; Most of the story is driven by the interaction of Ura and Riko and their diverging opinions on the archaeology of history. Their friendship is both unnatural and snug, a love-hate push and pull that’s intriguing and advances the plot. It’s the small nuances of this relationship that make Pale Cocoon a moving experience, and the revelations of the final minutes that make it phenomenal.

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Art
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Dilapidated never looked so pretty. Seamlessly integrated CGI and artwork come together to form a visual masterpiece. Lines are clear and crisp, serving as frames for the cell shaded images. These set pieces are filled in with an appropriately post-apocalyptic palette. Soiled browns and sooty grays swathed in the pale light of computer screens. Swashes of neon green burn dimly in the underground bunkers as the workers return with their zombie-like strut. It’s a mechanical world that inspires both sadness from its poor condition and awe from the technical beauty the artist took effort in creating.

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Sound
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Both grand and haunting, the soundtrack for Pale Cocoon is exceptional. It draws from different genres, a classical back bone of pianos and violins, layered by electronic horns. It even delves into Pop, a guest appearance by Little Moa, who solos a powerful ballad. The voice acting is just as impressive; Ura’s delivery devoid of most emotion while Kiko’s inflections delivers insight into her sorrow. Like the rest of the film the sound is handled spectacularly.

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Characters
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From such a short film you can’t expect much development, but the two leads Ura and Kiko have surprising depth. Ura is an excavator, swimming through seas of binary code day by day to figure out the world that was. He’s passionate, teetering on the edge of obsession when it comes to the past, tirelessly trudging through the 0s and 1s, saving what he finds interesting. But he is curiously detached from Riko, the analyzer, a friend of his. Riko has stopped showing up to work favoring the bleak company of emptied stairs. She sprawls herself across the grate looking up into the dark retreat, pondering. The anagnorisis of both characters not only speaks volumes about each of them but the world they are living in. In the brief time we see their conceptions of the world change, Ura finally maturing and Kiko gaining a bit of optimism.

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Overall.
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Pale Cocoon brings together excellent storytelling and production to create a miniature gem. Its easy to get lost and not realize that the program is over. It deserves a watch by any fan that believes anime should be more than entertainment but art. Pale Cocoon does what most animation doesn’t: provoke my imagination. Just as Riko gazed up into shadows I was left contemplating my dimmed screen.

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Shadows on a Black Road
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At the horizon of a bleak world stands an ominous wall, ‘Hell’s Gate’, it’s steel and cement arms spreading across the Tokyo skyline. The city itself is filled with curious characters borne with the Gate, Contractors and Dolls. Contractors are those that have gained supernatural abilities for a price, a penance they must pay for using their skills. Some have to overturn the shoes of their victims, smoke cigarettes or even drink the blood of young children. Dolls on the other hand are soulless mediums, who use various surfaces to track the ongoing of the city. Presented is a dark world ... painted in shadows and ambiguity, a backdrop against which Darker than Black[DtB] succeeds, a few shades short of greatness.

The premise is vague: ten years ago, Hell’s Gate emerged along with Contractors and Dolls, humans granted paranormal abilities. The smoke doesn’t really clear up much as series progresses, failing to provide answers to how or why the Gate was created in the first place. Instead, Darker than Black drags you through a tale rife with political head butting and philosophical dilemmas while attempting to pluck a few heartstrings along the way. Sometimes it feels the plot is trying to do too much, pushing character development while layering bureaucratic maneuverings atop of a monologue about the nature of the human soul. The tale is ambitious, but some of these elements just fall short. There’s also the little issue of leaps of faith across little plot holes. You won’t enjoy Darker Than Black very much if you don’t buy into the logic. Some shows abuse this, such as Code Geass R2, but DtB never exploits its own narrative to that extent.

The climax serves as a stage focusing on the main character’s personal journey instead of the large conflict that had nurtured in the final few installments. The effect was underwhelming, both could have been featured and the latter did not have to be shoved to the final few minutes to be resolved. The ending didn’t tie together all the loose ends but I expect the sequel to fulfill the unrequited promises of the first.

The characters were exceptional in Darker than Black. Hei, a polarized hero, wears an icy mask on his missions, while off duty he’s reserved, clumsy and for a lack of a better word, ‘cute’. He’s supported by the silent and morose Yin, and the level-headed Huang. The cast is given some vibrancy by Mao, the cautious if somewhat paranoid talking cat. The leads are likable but their development is allocated to specific arcs, their growth stunted outside these small windows. Hei can be seen as an exception, his past penciled in throughout. From a beer chugging secret agent, a cop with a stoic sense of justice to a sock-sniffing sociopath, the supporting cast is spectacular, filled with interesting figures. Kurosawa Gai brings relief to the tense, often brooding, atmosphere, with his perky pink-haired partner Kiko. Close to the middle of the series we see an erosion of Hei’s stony visage, seeing it completely shatter in the last few moments. The revelations make Hei endearing but somewhat forgettable. We’ve seen this type of hero, a cut and paste history pulled from many popular stories.

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Production
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The art in Darker than Black is exceptional, the Bones name branded onto every frame. A dark palette is favored to fill in the vacant allies, while vibrancy bubbles in Shinjuku’s flashing lights. The style is outlined in dark strokes, as the action unfolds before your eyes. The scuffles between the Contractors highlight the fluidity of the animation, powers vibrating with force, sizzling with electricity or rippling with strength. Hei invokes the spirit of Spider-man as he zips around and about buildings with his grappling hooks for an impressive effect. A slight amount of CGI is used to animate cars, Bones opting for a more cell-shaded look to let them drive about seamlessly in the world.

Character designs work well, each unique enough to give a distinct personality. Hei’s pupils are not drawn in, creating an eerie effect, making him seem almost soulless. Facial animations are spot on, most impressively seen in Yin, her eyes betraying small fragments of feeling that she had supposedly forgotten.

The sound is decent, not up to par of the visuals. The supporting cast surprisingly delivers excellent performances, their short roles reprised excellently. It’s the main cast I felt was a bit weaker, feeling a bit forced. Huang is best when asked to treat his comrades like shit, his compassion coming off as fake. The soundtrack is varied; composed of more traditional tracks featuring bellowing pianos and whining violins, to more electro-pop influenced tracks like the opening. They interweaved the two styles well enough, rendering a pleasant soundscape fitting of Tokyo’s dreary future.

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Watchability and Enjoyment
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At moments I had ‘WTF’ feelings shock my system. I didn’t know exactly what was going on why certain plot points were unfolding the way they were. The story led me one way, then the plot would stretch itself thin to move in another direction. It’s a bit disorienting, but the complex forces at work in the show eventually boil down to a simple ‘us versus them’ scenario with Hei at the center of it all. The intricacy might be a turn off to some viewers, but I appreciated that the show saw the viewer as an intellect and did not spoon-feed the entire story to me.

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Closing Thoughts
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Darker than Black is a welcome in a sea of mediocrity. It attempts to touch the horizon, to realize its own epic ambitions. There are a lot of loose strings, holes in the story that have to be reconciled in the second season for this program to reach hallowed annals of Anime prominence. The twenty-five installments created are excellent, the potential is there, but Darker than Black is an incomplete work.

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Pre-Review Notes
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I'm going to be using a more freeform style for Movie reviews, as they are much smaller and I can describe my feelings for the movie in a much clearer fashion.


Studio 4°C’s anime transcends the borders of Japan. From Linkin Park's "Breaking the Habit", to the Animatrix, and even to the Gotham Knight, their portfolio is varied and extensive. First Squad, their latest effort, is a collaboration between two Russian directors and 4°C, crossing the sea once again to create international anime. I had high hopes for First Squad, as the Studio's last movie, Tekkon Kinkreet, was excellent. However, the bullets of the ... collaboration were quick to puncture my hopes; after an hour and thirteen minutes they looked like swiss cheese.

The story of First Squad is told in a unique fashion: meshing live action documentary with more traditional animation. There is an interesting interplay, as Russian scholars and veterans ground the fantastical story into reality. First Squad could be commended on this approach if the story itself were not so weak. The plot is predictable; the Nazi's are beckoning vengeful spirits from the other realm, and the Russian's need to stop them. The characters don't do much to salvage the poor tale. The pacing is erratic and disjointed, jumping from scene to scene with little sense of cohesion. The movie's namesake, the First Squad, is a poorly developed cast, with only slivers of background ever filled in. Nadya, the main antagonist, is drawn from clichés –an amnesiac psychic who would give life and limb for country.

The voice acting didn't help prop up the narrative. The Russian voice actors sound deflated, their flat voices conveying plastic emotion. The music was passable, a boisterous overture in the opening that harkens to any military film. The rest of the score is appropriate, weaving melodies from low growling organs with the rhythmic hum of violins.

Studio 4°C does deliver the goods on the art. A muted palette washes over the snowy seas of the Eastern Front. Moscow’s majesty is quiet from the war-torn world, a stark contrast to the Gloom World, a twisted realm where fallen warriors continue to tear at one another. Russia is a feast to look at. Excellent CGI is threaded together with top-notch animation. Artists made a successful effort in modeling the characters, drawn to have a distinctive Caucasian look.

First Squad, to say the least, disappointed me. Despite the pretty little black dress it wears, what is inside does not satisfy. The story is forgettable, the characters are paper-thin, and the voice acting isn’t exactly inspiring. I praise Studio 4°C for attempting to blend two styles –documentary and anime. Hopefully this method of storytelling won’t be thrown to the wayside, and will be used to create a much more engaging and entertaining experience.

A Somewhat Unlucky Boy

Academy City, the Mecca of Science, is where most of it's denizens are student that have been scientifically engineered to be espers, or wielders of certain unique abilities: manipulating electricity, teleportation and controlling natural forces.

Touma is a student in the Esper Development Program, with very unique skill, the ability to negate supernatural powers, like the ones manifested by other Espers. This, of course, nullifies his good fortune as well: vending machines devour his yen, his cellphone crushed into silicon fragments by his foot, and he has to attend extra classes during the summer.

But fate isn't done with Touma, ready to twist ... the string of his destiny around it's cold slender fingers. Enter Index, hanging to dry from Touma's balcony, a church sister being hunted by... magicians. The plot has an interesting hook, the conflict between science and magic. The first four episodes prove to be interesting, serving as a prelude to what would be a plot line epic in proportions. But Toaru Majutsu no Index [no Index] quickly shifts gears, abandoning an expansive story, for smaller three to four episode arcs surrounding the various characters. It's amusing but for the most part leaves you asking: Why does this matter?. Though the last episode does give some hope, hinting at a conflict between science and magic, that's about to build, brim and explode.

The characters are likable, if somewhat cliched. Touma is the can-do hero that attempts to save 'everyone'. Misaka is a shining star in somewhat average cast. Her love/hate relationships with both the lead and her friend Kuroko coupled with her superiority complex is amusing. One of the plots faults is the harem that is accidentally formed. Harems cause symptoms of shallow character interaction and plots driven by mindless love polygons. Shades of these indicators are found in no Index, but hopefully the 'harem factor' won’t be a crutch for the plot in the future.

Production

The animation and the art is excellent. The palette is bright and vibrant, painting Academy City alive. Cool silvers and grays are layered on the natural colors woven in between the streets. Action scenes are fluid and are filled with some intense scenes on this backdrop. Character models are drawn well, the magician's being the most interesting of the bunch. Kiori and Stiyl seem otherworldly in their outlandish clothing. There were irritating bits of fanservice unappealing because the heroines, for the most part, were flat chested.

The music was engaging, a techno flare that fit the whole scientific motif. Neither opening was exceptional, their upbeat chords danced about, setting the appropriate mood. The voice acting wasn't noteworthy, though some of the voices became grating. Index's voice had an annoying timbre that scratched at the senses.

Watchability and Enjoyment

The structure of the show made my enjoyment of the program, mixed. Some of the chapters were splendid, balancing humor, drama, and action while others made me want to drop the program all together. I have hope for the second season, which promises a return to the whole conflict between magic and science, which intrigued me in the first few episodes.

Closing Thoughts

The ambition of the plot quickly disappears and what remains is a cast of likable characters, great art, and a promise. Hopefully Toaru Majutsu no Index will deliver on that promise. The small gems of story telling give me confidence that there is still hope for the exploration of the main theme presented. We can only hope.

We Are Ghosts, Meant for the Shadows

The Phantom returns. What you didn't know that there was a Phantom series before this? Phantom the Animation moved in and out from the anime conscious like a ghost. Phantom: Requiem for a Phantom [Phantom] is supposed to be a remake for that tragic three part OVA, as well as extending the story. It greatly improves upon the original, but does it succeed on its own?

Phantom welcomes you to the underworld, where gang families trade dollar bills and bullets, the players run the game and the game plays with their lives. Inferno, an upstart organization, backed by mysterious Mr.Mcguire, ... has only one objective: to unite the underworld. It's an interesting premise but not the focus of Phantom. It's sniper scope focuses on two character's Ein and Zwei, the brainwashed assassins of Scythe Master, a scientist for Inferno.

The story is interesting at first, as Zwei try to come to terms with his existence and amnesia. He struggles with the idea of killing a person against surviving himself, afraid of losing his true nature in a bloodbath. It's hard for him accept the assassin credo: Kill or be killed. Ein is a desolate voice, a melancholic mentor to Zwei in the shadowy world. She has a resigned view of the world, death being the only thing defining her life.

The plot is compelling , the character interaction fascinating on many levels, from the understated to romance between the leads to the slave/master relationship between Ein and her creator Scythe. It is up until the halfway point that its when the tight seams start to loosen and the edges begin to fray. The action is pushed forward with jarring plot twists and a piles of grating melodrama. Around Episode sixteen, I was concerned that the show hadn't ended after Episode 10. But I am glad I continued, as the ending was deeply satisfying, giving closure to the characters I had fallen in love with in the first half of the series.

Production

There are two halves to the art in Phantom, as excellence soon becomes underwhelming. The dark and muted palette is abandoned for brighter colors. The excellent cinematography, which contained dynamic cuts, camera angles, and used liberal shot framing from compelling viewpoints to push the unearthly atmosphere, is regrettably simplified in the second half. The character models were well made, each actor being unique, designed interestingly, and their clothes personifying their identities. That's how models should be, a reflection of the person's soul.

The music was hit or miss. The first opening was perfect, dark and brooding, the vocals strong and filled with yearning. The second one was upbeat, almost frantic in it's execution. The best piece was the second ending theme, "Transparent", a haunting tune that sent chills down the spine. The voice acting was sharp, though many of the seiyuu performances are strained in the second half, as the script aims to be overly dramatic.

Watchability and Enjoyment

As I said before, the show is split into two halves. The first 10 episodes are engaging and will keep you hooked. From there, the show's quality decides to drive off a cliff. Its surprising to see how noticeable it is, the craftsmanship is compromised after the time lapse. But I kept watching, consumed with the desire to know how it all ended. I fell in love with Ein and Zwei and the nuggets of their interaction threaded throughout the other half pulled me along. Sticking with it, rewarded me with a great ending that returned to the style of the first few episodes, the use of atmosphere and interaction to create an emotional effect.

Closing Thoughts

Phantom is a mixed bag. It has a good start, but the trail becomes rough. At times I felt the series was too long, and would have been better off had it run a shorter schedule like Jyu-oh-sei or Shingetsutan Tsukihime, both of which paced out beautiful stories in a small amount of time. Overall, I can recommend it because of a strong beginning and finale.