- Last Online32 minutes ago
- GenderMale
- BirthdayJun 28, 1992
- LocationWhere the buffalo roam
- JoinedOct 1, 2013
RSS Feeds
|
![]()
Sep 28, 2015
Let's be straight: this series has "NTR" in the title. How much more straightforward can one get? NTR is the animanga community's most controversial genre for a reason. If you hate NTR, the only thing that might make this worth a chance for you is the fact that the "alternate partner" is a girl: our thickheaded protagonist Yuma is seduced by her childhood best friend and neighbor Hotaru. The catch is that they both have boyfriends. I stumbled upon this and decided to read it exclusively because I was interested in how an NTR series would play out when the partner in adultery is of
...
the same sex as the silly degenerate.
Well, unfortunately, Netsuzou Trap has yet to explore the elements unique to such a relationship. Honestly, Hotaru could have been a male instead and the plot development wouldn't have changed much. The only part of the same-sex aspect of Yuma and Hotaru's illicit relationship this series has so far taken advantage of is using the gender excuse for Yuma to be either ignorant, delusional, or both; Yuma convinces herself Hotaru's actions are within the realm of comfort because they're both girls, insisting that Hotaru is being "weird" but there's nothing explicitly corrupt about their relationship. Aside from that, nothing. This could be due to the age of the characters; this is, after all, a high school series, and it is a common attitude within Japanese culture that females having a same-sex attraction is simply a "phase," they'll grow out of it, and it's nothing to think much about.
Netsuzou Trap does narrowly avoid the most glaring pitfall one would associate with a series that has such a premise in that it has thus far steered away from the otaku pandering route. While it could have easily settled into being a basic yuri series with the sole purpose of seeing girls making out, throwing the NTR element in just to make it feel "fresh" (and strangely appease the minority of people who have this fetish), and consequently lacking anything in the form of substance, it has instead played out more like a "daytime soap opera" (as the mangaka herself compares it to) with an emphasis on drama and character relations. That said, there's still plenty dashes of ecchi to satisfy the perverted crowd, while Yuma and Hotaru get "intimate" enough to please the traditional yuri lovers who might check out this series for that reason alone. Okay, maybe this is simple otaku pandering after all, but at the very least it does a fine job of portraying itself as something respectable.
The characters are rudimentary thus far and essentially fill out the mandatory roles for the story. Yuma is a dunce, and Yuma's boyfriend is innocent, gentle, and being played for a fool by Hotaru, who is manipulative, detached, and has a boyfriend as suspicious as she is. Nonetheless, they maintain the potential for growth and developing into a standout cast depending on how they are handled. They all have a number of problems and complicated relationships sure to influence how they develop here on out.
The art is standard for a school series. The backgrounds are mostly of basic school environments, and, in typical fashion, there are numerous panels that feature characters on pure white backgrounds. It is well drawn, clear, and defined, but in this state of the industry it would be much more unusual if the art couldn't be attached with these descriptors. The characters, both male and female, also look like basic school manga characters, but they are quite attractive. Yuma and Hotaru are especially attractive, which is essentially a prerequisite considering the nature of this story and the fact one of its selling points is the intimate interactions between the two girls. On that note, the more amatory scenes are quite... alluring. A couple moments succeeded in exciting even someone like me who is quite apathetic towards yuri. There is most certainly nothing to complain about there.
All in all, Netsuzou Trap is exactly as it promises: a cross between a yuri and an NTR, and it plays to the benefits of both (despite failing to play to the benefits of crossing the two). The drama is gripping, there has already been a couple of intense moments, the sensual scenes are attractive, and girls kiss. So why only a six, then? Mostly because the series is still more-or-less in its introductory phase. The story is barely starting to develop, the characters haven't really developed at all, and, in short, there just isn't yet much to it. The pieces are there for a fantastic psychological drama about depravity and sensuality, but it has a little while to go before it reaches that level. I certainly anticipate seeing how this develops.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
What did you think of this review?
Nice
 0
Love it
 0
Funny
 0
Confusing
 0
Well-written
 0
Creative
 0Show all
![]()
Sep 26, 2015
ambivalence.
Key is a household name for any anime connoisseur. Even those with a mere passive interest in the medium as a whole are probably familiar with at least one of Key’s titles—a close friend of mine whose anime experience mostly encompasses Naruto knows Clannad as “that anime which gives people the sads” and subsequently won’t watch it because “it’ll give me the sads.” Clannad: After Story has permanently lodged itself within MAL’s top 10, several other Key titles (such as Angel Beats! and Kanon) receive a lot of love around here, and multiple Key visual novels have received wide acclaim, with Clannad, Little Busters, and
...
Rewrite all ranking within vndb’s top 15. In short, people love Key, and when a new anime fronted by Key or Key’s figurehead and principal writer Jun Maeda rolls around, people pay attention. It could be because you’re excited for a new anime from your favorite writer, it could be because you’re one of the director’s many critics and you can’t wait to see their new trainwreck, or you could just be interested in the hype the new series delivers as a passive observer; whatever the case, interest is generated. Naturally, Charlotte, being the newest title in Jun Maeda’s impressive résumé, was met with a tidal wave of hype. Does Charlotte match the standards expected by a Key title? Well, yes and no.
The first six episodes are a testament to all things Jun Maeda, a near complete collection of tropes anybody familiar with his work probably knows intimately by now: food jokes, baseball, school hi-jinks, and tinges of supernatural melodrama, among others. Frankly, these episodes are riddled with so many KeyTropes™ that one might think they were purposely constructed as a parody of everything Maeda is known for. By episode 4, all except the most rabid of Key fans will be more than a little tired with the barrage of shenanigans pressed upon us. The problem isn’t so much that Maeda uses his traditional writing style, it’s that the execution of his ideas are simply too familiar. “Yeah, I’ve seen this before, and I’ve seen it done better than this.” His writing is almost a caricature of itself at this point. As a fan of Maeda’s writing style, I found myself chuckling a number of times and invested in “The Everyday Adventures of Tomori and Friends” more than I retrospectively can understand, but I doubt the average viewer is going to empathize with these feelings. Then, against all odds, Charlotte turned 180 in potentially one of the most contrasting shattering of tropes and clichés I’ve ever witnessed in an anime: episode seven.
The 7th episode of Charlotte is without question one of Key’s finest episodes, sitting in pleasant company with the 18th episode of Clanand: After Story, the 10th episode of Kanon, and the finale of Angel Beats. For probably the second time in his career, Maeda wrote a dramatic story earthed in realism and believability that does not rely on emotional oversensitivity. Filled with flawless progression, powerful character development, and tight writing, Maeda proved he has a grasp on human emotions and Charlotte is not just another show aimed at appealing to the viewer’s appreciation for zany comedy and “feels.” It even successfully implements Maeda’s traditional appreciation for sensationalism and does so with class. From episode seven onwards, Charlotte catapults through a number of plot twists and thrills with a sense of maturity foreign to Key’s works, only ever devolving back to its handbook of clichés to lighten the atmosphere and strengthen the execution rather than relying on them to even catch interest. However, herein lies Charlotte’s largest fault (no, it’s not the pizza sauce jokes): resolution.
Perhaps a testimony to the fact a Key story can’t be told with finesse in a mere 13 episodes, Charlotte’s single most fatal flaw is its pacing and the means by which its drama is resolved. Character development is curbed for the sake of bringing a close to each individual obstacle in a single episode and, in the best of cases, two episodes. The drama of the early episodes is ruined by the absence of build-up and negligence of expansion, and the drama of the latter episodes is diminished by the constraints of its run time that force a harried resolution without thoroughly exploring the events and before viewers are given the chance to even register what’s going on, let alone sink into our protagonist’s emotions… which brings us to the characters.
If Charlotte’s pacing is the gaping wound to the series, then its characters would be the taut string that attempts to cease the blood loss. Each member of our four-character primary cast is loveable and amusing, and a lot of Charlotte’s idiosyncratic humor would utterly fail without its characters to support it. Yuu Otosaka, accurately dubbed “mini-Lelouch,” is sly and selfish yet charismatic and… loves his sister. Nao Tomori is a stoic, responsible, and sweet girl that maneuvers skillfully across the tsundere rope, the one Key girls often do, striking a delicate balance between casually hostile and apprehensively caring. This gives her a believable emotional distance, especially taking into consideration the struggles pressed upon her, far removed from the cringe-inducing display of many of the anime community’s beloved tsunderes (Taiga is shit). Joujirou Takajo and Yusa “Yusarin” Kurobane kind of play second fiddle to our protagonists and would have benefited greatly from more development (Takajo especially; Kurobane received her share of development, but its execution was disappointing at best—more on that in a minute), but between Takajo’s presence as the butt of Charlotte’s many jokes and Yusarin’s dualistic personality, I couldn’t help but admire both of them anyway. There are a number of side characters which play an important role later in the story; speaking much of them would spoil several important events, but it’s worth noting that they are all likeable characters as well.
Unfortunately, Charlotte’s fatal ailment to some extent succeeded in demolishing its characters as well. As mentioned previously, the pacing of the series consistently stifles character development. Some of Yuu’s actions come out of left field, Tomori winds up a side character by the end, and the bits of development the other characters get is crammed into a time allotment so tightly controlled it just seems forced—Kurobane’s ultimate resolution is literally compacted into less than 5 minutes of a single episode. Charlotte nearly completely sacrifices the important element of build-up in the execution of its drama, and without that build-up it’s difficult for the audience to really care about what’s going on. Episode 7 is the single moment in the series that remembers that importance, and, to no surprise, it focuses on Yuu. As the protagonist, all of the genuine development in the series is heaped at Yuu. Even the events seemingly intended to develop the side characters commonly, ultimately serves the purpose of developing Yuu. It is for this reason that, despite some misgivings, Yuu is a well-rounded, well-developed character and certainly among the best of Key’s protagonists.
While I have no specific comments about the standard sound direction—the BGM is certainly not as noteworthy as that of Key’s holy trinity (Clannad, Kanon, Air)—praise should be directed towards the stellar voice work of Kouki Uchiyama for Yuu Otosaka and Ayane Sakura for Nao Tomori. Yuu’s voice work is theatrical and lively, perfectly complimenting his character, yet apprehensive and dejected when required. Nao’s voice in contrast is some combination of subdued, stern, and alluring; and, truthfully, Ayane Sakura’s voice is so charming I could’ve turned off the subtitles and just appreciate the beauty of her voice work.
I opened this review up with the word “ambivalence” to set an atmosphere for my general impression of the series. While the first half of the series is an enjoyable yet basic collage of slice-of-life shenanigans, the second half swiftly swings into motion reminding me why I love Key’s works, yet ultimately leaving me with mixed feelings because its unfortunate pacing restrains its overflowing potential. The resulting product is a vaguely impressive series that falls short of its fathers. And, disappointing as it is, it could have matched them with a handful more episodes, just a bit more time to expand its events and characters, to cover its plot holes. I hope this serves a lesson for any hypothetical future projects: Maeda, please make it two cour.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
What did you think of this review?
Nice
0
Love it
0
Funny
0
Confusing
0
Well-written
0
Creative
0Show all
![]()
Aug 22, 2015
Yuri Kuma Arashi is to me the anime version of 2001: A Space Odyssey. That may seem to be a completely bizarre, nonsensical comparison, but there is one shared trait between the two that supersedes in value every single trait they don't share: each story is written by a director who is clearly creative, intelligent, and has a lot of talent and great ideas but is so absorbed in delivering some metaphysical message or lump of symbolism he forgets the prime element of storytelling is... *gasp* the story! (Shock! Kuma shock!) Due to the radical focus on the message, the actual execution is so wildly
...
insipid it bored the ever-living hell out of me.
Honestly, I hated this. There're a lot of things I appreciate about the show: the soundtrack is uniquely composed, enjoyable, and fits the tone of the series; "Ano Mori de Matteru" is arguably the greatest anime opening I'll ever witness and even the ending theme is catchy; the art direction is outlandish and nearly surreal yet creative and pleasing; the mantra-like dialogue is so quotable (perhaps for ironic reasons) it's meme-worthy (shabadadoo); episode 4 contained a genuinely great mini-story; and the series wrapped up nicely—I was still bored out of my skull for a large portion of the finale, but I nonetheless appreciate how it ended. The problem is the narrative itself removed from its theme is so uninspired, bland and poorly executed I could hardly stand to watch 85% of the series due to how ridiculously monotonous and tired it is; by relying heavily on its flamboyant, eccentric style, it attempts to disguise the fact the plot bears no substance (pun intended), but this only highlights what a pretentious mess this series is.
It doesn't help that I literally could not give a fuck less about a single one of the characters (except Life Sexy maybe because lulz). Seriously, every single character and story element in this bloody show exists as a pillar to support its message or symbolism. With characters in particular, it is important to give them life, not just let them exist as devices to accomplish a greater deed. These characters have no life. They are cardboard themes and nothing more.
Maybe if I remotely cared about the message it's attempting to convey (I don't), the fact that this show has no real story or characters wouldn't have mattered to me and I still could've been absorbed in tearing off the mundane superficial cover and feast upon its more elaborate innards. Unfortunately, I still watch anime for its plot and characters, not for social justice propaganda.
Reviewer’s Rating: 3
What did you think of this review?
Nice
0
Love it
0
Funny
0
Confusing
0
Well-written
0
Creative
0Show all
|
