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Note: I suggest watching Chuunibyou before reading this review. While there aren't any major spoilers involved, the context is pivotal to understanding where I'm coming from.

To begin with, I’d like to note that Kyoto Animation is a studio that has a distinct colour palette that differs between their shows, and it’s usually based on the thematic goals of the anime. I, for one, do not think that Chuunibyou follows that visual pattern, and for good reason. There are times where the characters might suddenly become outlined in a dark-brown to unconventionally convey tension in the atmosphere, and even the scenery manipulates emotion on the ... most erratic, yet harmonious levels solely due to the myriad of colours involved in each frame. Very rarely does the art direction feel flat due to the diversity of these stylistic choices.

And I think that this reflects facets of a core theme in Chuunibyou—growing up and constantly expanding the way you perceive the world around you. Rikka may never leave her Chuuni tendencies behind, but she’s always finding more and more value in the relationships that she’s created throughout the series. She’s interacting with the world around her and the people that inhabit it, but like many people who reject reality, she doesn’t realize that her worldview is being enriched with every joke, every frivolous pose, and with every second that she feels the sudden urge to hold Yuuta’s hand. She’s ostensibly seeing the world the same way, but by the end of the series, her vision is enriched by the countless shades of life that many characters of her type find hard to appreciate —an insightful vision involving a myriad of colours.

But it doesn’t end there. In fact, almost every character in this series is a manifestation of common flaws in people, and thus actually commentates on the nature of social outcasts rather than merely depicting them. Yuuta may be the biggest realist of all, but at the same time, he struggles to accept his hypocrisy when Rikka starts forcing herself to act normal in response to his crusade to pursue reality. Dekomori, while she may appear overly comical, is similar in how she also symbolizes rejection of the truth by indulging in her delusions despite admitting to having fabricated them. So, in a way, Rikka is an amalgamation of sorts between Yuuta’s realist attitude and Dekomori’s penchant for ostentatious fads. Upon realizing that she might need to fit into Yuuta’s “ideal” in order to pursue a deeper relationship with him, Rikka half-heartedly strays from her Chuuni tendencies. However, for Rikka, the heartache of living superficially is poignant in its own way. You can see the hesitation in her eyes the moment she forgets to adjust her prose when Dekomori unexpectedly addresses her as “master”. You can notice that the colours feel inorganically monotonous whenever Rikka is on-screen, and that her expression’s lifelessness reflects this. She’s waiting for somebody to save her.

And in the end, it is precisely when both Yuuta and Rikka accept their own idiosyncrasies and personal differences where their relationship feels authentic. Biking endlessly towards the moonlit horizon at midnight might be absurd, and I’m sure both Rikka and Yuuta acknowledged that, but it made them happy. In essence, pursuing your beliefs to an excessive extent might run you into walls wherein you’re forced to face your hypocrisy eventually, but not knowing what your beliefs are is even worse. It leaves you like the Rikka who wants to melt in admiration for Dekomori’s newest discovery, but who can’t because of the self-conflict with her values.

Suffice to say, the characters in this series are amongst one of the most diverse, quirky and most importantly of all—heartbreakingly human within their narrative context. Not only does Chuunibyou make believable characters in order to give both a visual and psychological presentation of being humanly-flawed—it actually makes meaning out of the relationships that result from their awkward communication. That is what makes Chuunibyou a work of art.

*This is not a review of Madoka Magica analyzing its "goodness", any further than how it changed my life. Needless to say, it's fairly personal.

Throughout my life, I’ve had a fairly ironclad set of self-serving ideals that drove me to tread one vapid path. Looking back, I can’t quite put my finger on what separated me from the individuals with a lack of conscience and mindfulness, whom I despise today. What changed me? I can’t express it in words alone, and maybe it’s best that way. However, perhaps It could have been fate, or just plain luck for me to eventually stumble upon Japanese ... script writer “Gen Urobuchi”s heartfelt anime series “Puella Magi Madoka Magica” (Madoka Magica for reduce), after experiencing the darker periods of my life.

Years ago, I watched the first half of Madoka Magica, though was quick to drop it because of how conceptually bland it felt at first. Simply put, I thought it was generic, or even as a substantial part of what inhibited the anime industry from being the colossal titan it could eventually become. Fast forward two bittersweet years of my life, and I decided to give it another chance. Needless to say, I began rewatching the series with low expectations.

To begin with, I re-evaluated the opening sequence that I had formerly considered an embellished “sample” of life itself. The music was far too upbeat for my liking, and lacked consistency in tempo. Its art-style was too pretentious for me to appreciate. Surprisingly, however, my second viewing of it portrayed stellar visuals, with vocalists “ClariS” clearly speaking to my heart. Even though the vocals were upbeat, they still managed to convey this interwoven sentiment of despair and misfortune. Even though its tempo was erratic, it coincided perfectly with the intricacy of the series itself. I refused to let anyone call my description of the song an exaggeration, though that’s still true, even now.

After having my view shifted by the opening sequence, I was perplexingly conflicted when thinking about what the story would be like. To my surprise, the latter half of the series took a dark, death-filled turn, with main characters leaving the spotlight left and right. It was then that I became fully immersed in the fictional world of Madoka Magica.

At some point, there was a heartbreaking moment where character “Homura” revealed that she had made use of time travel, using the concept of “world lines”, in attempts to prevent the protagonist’s recurring death. After many time loops without success, I legitimately felt as if there was no way for the tragic status quo to be reversed; similar was mindset of the nearly-dead Homura. Time had then really stopped in reality, as the protagonist whispered; as if directed to me, saying “If someone ever tells me it's a mistake to have hope, well, then, I'll just tell them they're wrong. And I'll keep telling them 'til they believe! No matter how many times it takes." To cloak hopeless and despair under the facade of hope was beautiful in and of itself, and I can’t forget that feeling upon realization of this.

At that point, it was difficult for me to hold back my tears. I questioned why I made such a big deal out of something that was fictitious. Finally, I realized that though characters may be concepts, the emotions they convey are real. Never before had I felt this strongly about something. My tears whispered to me in similar fashion to the characters that I had come to love. I could see that my fixed ideals and cynical outlook did not separate me from others, where I previously had thought that those traits made me “objectively better”. My past self was washed before my eyes, and it felt entangling to lie in between the bewildering rift of the past and present.

Ultimately, perspective can really change after a few years. Because of how I had yet to feel connected to a person enough to evoke an emotional reaction, I had stayed cynical and uninspired to understand the way others thought and felt. I'm glad that Madoka Magica was the first to do this for me. It's not something that can be analyzed further than the morals that it instills in viewers. But it's not a show for everyone. Now, my ambitions have become clear, perhaps translucent. I aspire to be a writer in order to illustrate my understanding of people, pulling my viewer’s heartstrings at every turn. And trust me, if anything, the Urobutcher does that time and time again with this series.

May contain light spoilers, trying my best to keep spoiler-free. Also, recommended to read synopsis before reading this review to get context.

Memories are a concept that get explored with vast array in anime, most notably establishing that point in the story that gets bundled with shock factor. Whether used as a way to show contrast between scenarios and characters like in “Isshukaan Friends”, or as a heartbreaking turning point in "Steins;Gate", their appeal often comes from the induced literary devices such as dramatic irony. But what happens when you take the more audacious approach, instituting the fact that all memories (of a main character) ... will be lost within the next two months? And this is just the second episode.

Story 6/10:

To begin with, Plastic Memories is an anime that really lacks any semblance of direction. While the plot progresses in a coherent and linear fashion, it really does not establish itself fully as per usual, aside from setting up for the the glorious, "feel"-filled finale. To illustrate, around 1/3rd of the show is spent on the characters' jobs at the Terminal Service. The main cast retrieves the widely distributed "Giftia" from their respective owners, and each arc often ends on a bittersweet note, specifically because all Giftia inevitably share the same fate as Isla; the main love interest whose memories will eventually disappear. My main issue with this is the fact that these scenarios rely a lot on flashbacks, making it feel as if plot elements are repeatedly being introduced rather than being fully developed and fleshed out.

In the case that the characters are not focused on their jobs, the atmosphere is fickle; generally starting the episode off with comedic segments, later making transitions into a more melancholic and cute stage between the two main characters. One other thing to take note of is that near the end of the series, almost every episode features unnecessary drama in its latter half. To me, Plastic Memories is at its best, spending time on fleshing out the two main characters in a realistic fashion (i.e. a fun trip to the amusement park). Unfortunately, the drama in every episode, excluding the finale, falls flat on its face because the build up prior to each moment is simply insufficient. In short, retrievals of the Giftia side characters are what I'd like to call "pseudo character development". The reason why I say this is because; in almost any production, drama is at its best when the emotions are authentic. In stark contrast, the retrievals of Giftia make it seem more like a preview of the world, with emotions being less conspicuous and more contrived, when compared to dialogue and monologues among our main cast.

Overall, the story wasn’t abysmal or unsightly, but its potential could have been fully salvaged, had the side characters made their presence fully realized.

Characters 5/10: In such a revolutionary and distant world, it would be best for the characters to be realistic, serving as a link between the viewer’s ordinary perception of the world, and the sentiments introduced throughout. The problem is not that the side characters receive null screen time. In fact, they get a similar amount to the two main characters. This may be a bit of a tangent on my part; however, if anything, the idea of Plastic Memories is again, to leave viewers dazed in recollection at the end. You know exactly what’s in store for the finale from episode two. Without constant interaction between Isla and Tsukasa, the ending would inevitably be unacceptable.

Here’s where the branch between the way the plot develops and the side characters comes in to play. Half of the characters really do not feel like sentient beings, because of how downright bland and dull their designs are. There is the seemingly cold hearted-senpai, the flirt who is the laughing gag, and lastly the Tsundere that refuses to condone Isla’s relationship with Tsukasa, despite the fact fact that it’s not like she likes him or anything… BAKA. Moreover, it seems as if the writers did not really know what type of role the side characters should have played. Are they supposed to be fully developed and reliable bros that we can relate to? Or are they just there are plot devices and meant to forward the comedic twists? The writers can’t decide. Simply put, they are half-baked, and act as a jury, reacting to everything the plot throws at them. Perhaps it might have even been best if there weren’t such a focus on the side characters in the first place, but that’s much up to their likability, which will differ between us individuals. It would lead to some amazing extra screen time for our main cast though.

As for the two main characters; Isla and Tsukasa, they are bland conceptually, but luckily develop a great deal. At times it feels forced, but the story is only 13 episodes, so it’s to be expected. Regardless of the fact that the development they receive is more than sufficient to like them individually and as a collective entity, it does feel a bit odd that they grow to like each other so early on in the story. You could attribute this to the lack of chemistry between the two by default, because they aren’t exactly your standard Romeo and Juliet. Isla is the quiet type without much understanding of the way humans interact and lacks depth at first. She does not have many established eccentricities and desires because the story is set within the scope of her two months to live. But if you’re in it for that quiet, clumsy kuudere, she’s perfect. There isn’t much to be said for Tsukasa aside from putting up an overly positive front and burning passion to help Isla.

Luckily, despite flaws in characters, the above average sound is still a great accompaniment to the growth of the two main characters.

Sound 7/10: The sound in Plastic Memories is great, namely the opening sequence. The contrast between the upbeat parts and ballad-like vocals really do reflect the nature of Plastic Memories well; a bittersweet lullaby, as well as a roller coaster of emotions for some. I have no complaints against the chosen seiyuus, but they aren’t exceptional, hence meriting 7 points out of 10. Ranging from a melancholic piano arrangement, or to more lighthearted pieces, BGMs are played are the right opportunities and can be a heartfelt experience when bundled with the stellar visuals. One thing to note however, is that more often than not, there is no soundtrack playing in the background during the more emotional moments. For what it’s worth, more is less. And for such a cute show, it works wonders.

Fun fact: The last few frames of the opening sequence changes every time. They depict Isla’s emotions differently with each coming episode, another reason as to why the opening is amongst the best of the best for me.

Art 7/10: There is a lack of colour to those who are going into this show expecting vibrant, artistically well-thought out visuals. Regardless, it works well with the show because the setting and unconventional world really do feel like “plastic” and two-dimensional at times. However, this changes as the story progresses, looking a lot more picturesque and realistic in comparison.

Lastly, the animation is rather inconsistent. In one episode it might be fluid throughout, and on other occasions, it’s sloppy. Fortunately, it is not anything that will make or break this show, even for those with a perceptive eye for animation. And then there are the character designs, which I LOVE. Sure, it is not outlined in red like a show such as “No Game No Life”, but it’s kept simple which I feel a lot of anime these days need to learn from. *cough shaft*

Overall: 6/10: Whether you enjoy this show is up to whether you rate objectively or subjectively.

But be warned that it’s no masterpiece, especially if you’ve delved too far into an objective mindset. If that's the case, then maybe it really is no more than the unauthentic plastic the anime industry doesn't need.

Can you rekindle what has already been reduced to ash?

In the anime industry, there tends to be a great production team behind each and every work these days. However, writers of outstanding merit are scarce. This notion is similar in a sense to a stroll in the park. Sometimes you find novelties that surprisingly evoke eccentric sentiments; but unfortunately there are times where the camera pans out, and you find yourself treading in congested crap. Unfortunately, I'm writing about the latter scenario, as Studio Pierrot brings us yet another adaptation of the renown manga: Tokyo ghoul.

The majority of people will tell you that ... the story is just a butchering of the manga; and quite frankly, I can wholeheartedly agree. A show with so incoherent a plot as Route A has must be a distorted variant of the manga-writers script, right?

Story 3/10:

An obvious deus ex machina moment was present prior to the events of this sequel, and surprise! They don't end there, but at the very least; they’ve learned to hide in plain sight. Furthermore, there is an inadequate amount of overarching world-building. Therefore, there are even characters that are supposedly relevant to the plot; yet they don't get enough screen time to fulfill their respective roles in the plot (I'm looking at you, Arima). As a whole, this atrocious portion of the anime leaves me speechless, and as such, I'll just leave the critique of the core narrative elements with that.

Now, given that the greatest merit of horror is the shock factor that elicits a suspenseful response or atmospheric change from the viewer, it is rather unfortunate that the execution of "Tokyo Ghoul Route A" has the inability to incorporate either of the above mentioned elements. In brief, one reason for this is because of the full-fledged war between the investigators and ghouls. They essentially stand on equal footings, which is rather underwhelming in a to say the least (especially when these supernatural entities are allied on one side), and definitely does not complement the horror/tragic narrative that is tries to be. Using such means to create a collective piece of writing forgoes the process of writing fully-fleshed out characters (more on that later) and keeping the plot coherent/cohesive. As a result, what we get is a half-baked product, of which is essentially sitting on the fence between a psychological enigma and your average "5deep3me" tragedies. Even worse, the problem lies in the accord to congest this over the mere span of 12 episodes, and as such, amounts to nothing more than convoluted scribe.

However, despite me seemingly chastising the anime's plot completely, I have to admit that there are redeeming qualities associated with the direction that Studio Pierrot decided to take the show. The way the show portrays itself is intrinsically abstract, given how the entirety of the second season is a manifestation of Kaneki's introspection, following the questionable events of season one. To illustrate, when Kaneki was reunited with Hide near the end, the scene was so beautifully done and opportune, given the whole "childhood friend accepting who you are now " effect. Despite this it was hard to keep my composure, given the lack of direction and plot holes in the story, not to mention the fact that the two literally had null screen time together.

Characters 4/10:

If you're an avid anime watcher, then you've probably already seen all of the troupes this show has to offer: the hard-at-work protagonist, the tsundere tryhard female lead, the generic childhood friend who has little to no relevance to the plot whatsoever, and I could just go on and on... The antagonists are similar in a sense; being generic to an extent where their motives are either completely obscure, or are limited to irrational prejudice toward the ghouls as a whole.

As for the character development; this is arguably the most pivotal part of what limits the show from consolidating its relation between character and plot. Expectantly, a wide scope is used to depict an abundant number of perspectives. By the same token, the diversity of the cast is sizable enough to attribute the lack of development to a sheer shortage of screentime. *Warning spoiler* A perfect example of this is Yukinori Shinohara, who is Juuzou’s senior investigator (If I’ve mixed people up, I apologise; it’s just too tall a task to remember names with the way the characters are portrayed). Nearing the end of the season, he succumbs to Eto’s wrath after a valiant attempt to protect others. In effect, Juuzou mourns his death, but the scene lacked poignancy and emotion because their relation had yet to be established to the extent where you would actually care for either of them.

In a similar fashion to the plot, the indecisiveness of the writers is manifested by the lousy way they experiment with each demographic of characters (The respective representatives of both investigators and ghouls). At various points in the anime, characters react in ways that one would never expect, given the previous actions they have already taken in the anime. Simply put, their personas inconsistent and are extremely lazily written.

In essence, each character has a does have a definitive place in the story, however, they are never given the opportunity to develop. This is because their goals, morals, and ideals are latent and leave the watchers wondering what they value in relation to the story. By simply dedicating one episode to outlining each of the chief characters’ back stories and ambitions, perhaps this mishap of mingled personalities could have been avoided altogether.

Art + Animation 7/10:

The animation in the entire Toyko Ghoul TV series can be summed up in one word. Inconsistent. There are times where the fights are dazzling and perhaps even amongst the best of our time. However, for whatever reason, there are episodes where everything goes downhill and we are left with sloppy animations that can be compared to panning images encapsulated onto our screens. Overall, nothing particularly spectacular, although definitely not dreadful.

The show takes on a very modern art style, which may not have been the best idea, given the atmospheric conditions of the anime, but that’s just personal preference. Also, I was pleasantly surprised by the change in art in each ED sequence, and definitely something to take note of.

Suffice to say, there are many potential metaphors and ways that Studio Pierrot make what you are looking at simple eye-candy. To illustrate this notion, the secret base Anteiku doesn't symbolize much per se, but the studio makes very good use of its poignance as a place in respect to both the themes of the show and the ostensibly prestigious cast. At best, you could call these moments the epitome of hype for this show, easily because they evoke great sentiment despite the poor writing of the said scenes.

Sound 8/10:

The ED and OP are phenomenal, but not pieces that the average person would listen to on their own time. Regardless, they are superb lyrically and sentimentally when situated in the dark thriller that they are associated with.

As for the OST, it’s hard to say whether it really complements the scenes themselves or simply diverges the audience’s attention to the more beautiful tracks coupled in the OST. Genres vary from acoustic arrangements to electronic/dubstep, and I honestly cannot agree with every single piece’s usage in the anime. However, one thing that I commend the studio for doing is for not straying away from pieces with lyrical accompaniment, and it honestly makes me wonder why studios seldom use such pieces.

In short, the pieces themselves are edifying, but can occasionally be misused at times where their presence is not ideal.

Enjoyment 5/10:

Personally, I cannot stand shows with bad writing. Therefore, the enjoyment I got from the show was very poor. However, I can see why people love this show, considering how simply abstract it is by nature.

Also, if you like dissecting a show just to see how bad it can get, this grandiose work of art is meant for you.

Overall 6/10

If you are looking for a show that you that you can take seriously one-hundred percent of the time, I advise you to stay away from this sequel; although in that case, it piques my interest that you didn't drop its prequel. That being said, it does fortunately have an abysmal list of redeeming qualities for the casual viewer. Perhaps, I’m just a deranged critic and in that case, this blasphemous show is worth watching upon your personal whim. But beware, or you might find yourself binge eating it.