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Trotting down a dimly lit stairway lost in worries, walking hurriedly along a corridor seemingly without end, you come across a painting - a feast of colours and of animals frolicking, the flickering of faint candlelight casting on it a breath of life. Such a contrast it is to the pale grey walls, such bewildering emotions it instils, so incongruous with the world it’s in; such is Kyousougiga. Set in the Mirror Capital of Kyoto, an amalgam city of old and new, a world where the boundary between man and god is blurred, is a story of a family coming into terms with each ... other. It is the tale of lives imbued with untamed strokes and vivid hues.

It starts with the departure of Myoue and Koto, father and mother, to a realm unknown, leaving their children with a promise to one day return with the beginning and the end in tow. The once idyllic family life is torn apart, and thus begins the magical story of Kyousougiga.

The heart of Kyousougiga is family values, a return to the simpler joys in face of the looming anxieties of life. We are all brought up to face the responsibilities and demands of reality, to bust our bubble of idealism and to be bereft of innocence. Indeed, didn’t we all face the woes our protagonist Koto does, when we were slowly piled under duties and expectations without understanding them, when we only wanted to live a simple and joyous life? Kyousougiga is a reaction against the industrialized society in which so many are weighed down by utilitarian worries and the monotony of working life.

As if a direct contrast to the grey high-rises and symmetry which lines our streets, the world of Kyousougiga is filled with various architectural styles and imagery. The environment is based primarily on old Japan, but anachronistic elements like western castles, futuristic technology, and even arcane ribbons fluttering in the sky, infuse this world with a dreamlike vivacity unlike anything else. The art is drawn with wild strokes and vibrant colours, movements with fluidity and reckless rapidity, and facial expressions with unrestrained expressiveness. The lively world of Kyousougiga and the ebullient tone of the series is an antithesis to our excessive rationality; it is a reflection of our imagination which was once so unbridled and unconforming.

Yet, all of us are bound to face the pressures of reality. Myoue’s and Koto’s departure were inevitable, and the siblings each find their own ways to cope with this loss. Yase, half demon, half a spoiled princess, consoles herself in reminiscence and nostalgia. Devastated by her loss, she can only accept and mourn in this fate. Sifting through old memories of her mother, she longs for times long past, reaching ever further for the beginning. Kurama, the eldest sibling, prodigy and visionary, sets his sights on the future. Following his father’s will, he innovates new technology and organizes Kyoto with hopes to one day find a means to break out of it, to grasp the end. Young Myoue, heir of his father, deals with their departure through indolence and indulgence. Utterly dejected yet unwilling to admit it, he spends his days in denial of his grief and in escape from his duties. Thus lives this melancholy triad in their unassuming bubble, disunited and unable to fill the emptiness of their heart.

Then there is our protagonist Koto, youngest of the siblings and a headstrong fool of a girl. Alienated by her surroundings and unsure of her identity, yet never willing to display her vulnerabilities and always bursting with energy, she ventures into the mirror capital with the mission of finding her mother. Down the rabbit hole she falls, and she shall experience the full extent of the joys and sorrows of growing up, of the mounting pressures and of expectations unfulfilled.

Through all this turmoil Koto remains strong; her constant smile and foolhardy attitude disturbs as much as it inspires those around her. She is unconcerned with the past or future and lives the present to the fullest, be it helping others or making unreasonable demands. With hammer in hand, she smashes the boundary of worlds and confronts the parents who deserted them. Kyousougiga is about living in the present; to confront reality, stare into it eyes, and see the all colours about you. It is about reconciling the bubbles of our wistful imagination with the harsh world around it through the help of those around you. Myoue and mother Koto love their children immensely; they scramble all their resources and some more to give their children love, care, and a world where they are provided all that they need. Yet, they neglect their foremost duty as so many parents nowadays do – to always be there for their children.

Indeed, “Coming home five minutes earlier than usual,” says Koto as she plants her forgiving fist into her father’s cheeks, “that sort of thing is love!” Kyousougiga is not just lively in tone, its very essence is one which breathes life into the viewers. It is a fairytale of vibrant colours and simple joys, of familial troubles and love likewise. It truly is that brilliant painting of which a fleeting glimpse you catch, but an enduring impression you get.

Harem-ridden and trope-driven as anime nowadays is, many a disillusioned fan don’t hesitate to call out the medium as fallen. Indeed, though Miyazaki may not actually have uttered the words “anime was a mistake.” (only not in public, mind you) the wide circulation of the phrase is nonetheless a reflection of the sentiments of our oh-so-critical generation. Along comes Saekano, or How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend, the latest entry of the harem genre’s self-critique and introspection.

Tomoya is, well, your ordinary harem lead who is seemingly unremarkable but whose charm is so irresistible yet so subtle, that the girls around him cannot but fall ... for him, much to the frustration of some viewers who cannot see any logic to these affections (as they’ve surely through logic and reasoning discerned the inner workings of love, but I digress). By means of insistence and unconscious emotional manipulation, he has gathered a crew of contrastingly remarkable people to develop a dating sim. There’s Utaha the prodigy writer who has written several acclaimed novels, the famed doujin artist Eriri, and Katou who’s, uh, not particularly special save for being kind of cute and somehow managing to seduce our protagonist on first his first sight of her.

Huh? But she’s a perfectly normal person no matter which way you look at it; where are the special traits or encounters which should precede such an affection? There needs be none, Saekano tries to tell us; love is a complex and illogical phenomenon which requires no extrinsic justification. Isn’t the very engendering of this sensation, among the flames and naiveté of youth, reason enough to love?

Saekano is a self-aware and self-referencing work. It points out the flaws and implausibilities which often plague its genre, yet offers no alternative. Instead, it toys around with harem tropes subverts it its usual formula using Katou who acts completely normally to foil the others. There is an inherent absurdity in having one ordinary girl among a cast of characters who are necessarily quirky a la harem shows. Katou is paradoxically special simply because she's a normal girl among sexy prodigies. Though criticized for conforming to its genre without innovation, composing the rest of the cast with typical harem characters is essential in achieving what Saekano wants to do. While it does highlight the unrealistic characters and tropes of harems, it also serves to illustrate the irrationality of passion and infatuation, which is shown in Katou’s and Tomaya’s feelings for each other but reflective of the other characters as well. In contrast to most similar commentaries, Saekano simultaneously subverts and justifies the harem genre, without ever stepping out of its boundaries.

Being cast of game producers, the characters elucidate the conflicts of aestheticism behind the creation of such works. The team is aware of the flaws and tropes in their work, but artistic integrity has to be weighed against the harsh market. Even so, no creator wishes to make hollow trash like “critics” so often may think. Behind these stories are genuine emotions, far more so than half-assed criticisms by blind followers of objectivism. The creators of Saekano, and the characters in Saekano, all put great effort into making human beings with deeply personal motivations despite their being in a necessarily trope-ridden show. Eririri’s falling out with Tomoya isn’t simply a release of her repressed exasperations or an expression of her individuality and desire for attention; she is a window through which we see the creators’ wish to move their audience, as well as frustrations at the vessels of these emotions being ignored or enjoyed as “low art”.

A veritable work of its time, Saekano is an author’s input on the contemporary attitude so critical of harems that they’re often not given a chance at all. Yet, much of its commentary is perhaps too implicit and overshadowed by its overt remarks on the genre which may be brushed off as unsubstantial. For the actively dismissive (or consciously undiscerning, if I may) it will hardly make much of an impression other than being an ordinary harem with a cheap attempt at critiquing the harem genre. For others with willing ears and eyes to match, it can be a novel take on the values and motivations surrounding the genre.

Do you truly know the people around you? Do you notice the chirping canaries that fly by your side?

Psychiatry deals with grave issues; perhaps triggered by a past trauma, perhaps by an insufferable present; patients find themselves struggling to cope with their daily lives. This gravity is what makes the eccentric Irabu Ichiro, certified psychiatrist, so bewildering a character. Accompanied by his seductive nurse Mayumi, he runs a psychiatric ward offering consultation and treatment for people suffering from various mental disorders. The deceptively simple premise of Kuuchuu Buranko lays the groundwork for an extraordinary exploration of human mind and society.

The first thing in Kuuchuu Buranko ... to catch people’s eyes is often its distinctive artistic style which utilizes a combination of animation, live-action, and rotoscopy. The colours are vibrant and lively; patterns inspired by pop art overlays various background objects, and work in conjunction with the vivid palette to surround the viewers in a psychedelic ambience. The atmosphere straddles the line between real and surreal. Far from a superficial attempt establishing a psychological tone, the unique style is appropriate for an investigation of the human psyche where reality intersects perception and imagination. The bizarreness does not move out of line: the lifelike character designs and the sincerity of the stories both serve to ground the show in reality. The human mind can be an alien place, but the problems it may cause are nonetheless real.

Being an episodic anime, each episode deals with a new patient and his disorder. Though those who consult doctor Irabu may display exaggerated traits or disorders, these are reflective of universal problems present in the general public. Insight into the viewer’s mind follows alongside the development and unravelling of the characters’ stories. Kuuchuu Buranko does not take the disorders lightly; they can lead to severe difficulties as they do in reality. Yet, the comical depiction of the disorders give the viewers a laid-back and sometimes ironic view of the traits that they themselves likely display to a milder degree. The seemingly detached standpoint on the veritably personal problems stresses the importance of perspective in psychiatry. Each episode ends on an uplifting note, but is not blindly optimistic as the disorders are not always cured. It is rather the outlook on the problems that change by the end of each episode. The psyche is shown as the dynamic and flexible being that it is

Much of the themes of Kuuchuu Buranko are best embodied by Dr Irabu himself, who sporadically transforms between a patched-up teddybear, a young adult, and a child. At times indifferent and other times caring, each persona is marked by a distinctive personality. He is seemingly unbound by physical limitations as he appears at any place and time as he wills. Being the only character without a live-action face, Dr Irabu embodies a concept which drives forward the patients and the show’s messages rather than appearing as a realistic character. In psychiatry the source of the cure is always the patient, whereas doctors and drugs merely facilitate the patient’s self-discovery. Operating completely at his own whims and without regard to traditional medical ethics and practice, Irabu illustrates the importance of personalized and adaptive care instead of systematic approaches on patient treatment.

Often understated in importance is the nurse, whose explicit fanservice scenes may overshadow her comparatively minimal characterization. Shown simply as eye-candy in the first few episodes, her humane side is gradually revealed as time goes on. Through subtle gestures and short remarks, she establishes herself as perhaps the most human of all the characters, in contrast to Dr Irabu. Animated entirely using live-action techniques, she acts as a foil to the doctor and emphasizes the importance of caring for those around you. We are all human being with our own feelings and motives behind each action. She, just like everyone else, quietly and subtly supports others in her own way from the background.

Whereas the doctor and the nurse are both entertaining and thematically dense, the real highlight of Kuuchuu Buranko is the rest of its cast. With focus on characterization rather than plot progression, the patients show significant depth and development despite each being cast in only a single episode. Each episode condenses a widespread problem into a character’s mental disorder, slowly provides perspective and insight into the problem, and ends on a satisfying manner be it conclusive or not. Take episode ten for example, in which a sentimental businessman struggles to relive his youth through his sense of duty and patriotism. Rather than dealing solely with the often deceptive notion of youth, pride and strength, it also discusses the mismatch between the self we conceive and others’ conception of us. The issues dealt with are usually far broader than is apparent but do not suffer from the superficiality commonly resulting from broadness, due to the depth and effectiveness with which the specific issues are tackled and developed. Kuuchuu Buranko is powerful because it knows us.

Others don’t see the world as you do; each person has his or her own struggles and imperfections. Without trying to truly understand and empathise with those around us, we will never see beyond face value. Kuuchuu Buranko is not just a story about psychiatric professionals and patients; it’s a story about each of us struggling with our mind and coming into terms with the world surrounding it. Do you, my friend, notice the chirping canaries that fly by your side?

Being the first animated hentai series, Lolita Anime is perhaps most often watched nowadays for its historic value. Those venturing into this series expecting an unrefined mess full of out outdated visuals and archaic techniques, however, have much to be pleasantly surprised by.

Lolita Anime consists of three separate stories which, while sexual in nature, are far from being solely pornography as contemporary hentai often is. Repetitive single-motion scenes do not clog up its duration. In Lolita Anime there is not merely the desire to animate sex or to tell stories, but also one to make art.

Potential viewers should not be put off by the ... simple and unimaginative title; anthologies are difficult to name, and the first story is so reminiscent of Nabokov’s Lolita that it’s plausible for the title to be an allusion to it. There is the same pursuit for beauty, in part to veil the underlying filth, but also stemming from an inner desire for the sublime. Each story considers a different convergence of the beautiful and the terrible: the first story of pedophilia, the second of a maturing body and mind, and the third of the duality of drugs or possibly insanity as it is never overtly revealed. Although occasionally nonsensical and gratuitously pornographic, it would be wrong to judge Lolita Anime on its face value alone.

Over the years, depiction of lolis in animated pornography has become increasingly commonplace and acceptable among the groups concerned. Whereas some writers and producers aren’t bothered by the ethical dilemma and simply make loli porn for money, other writers and producers have even attempted to bring (usually laughable) moral justification to sex with children. Lolita Anime doesn’t belong in either category, and takes a cynical stance on pedophilia and the sexual depiction of minors. There’s no blatant argument for either side, instead it lets the viewers experience the different facets through its aforementioned contrasts of beauty and filth so that they may draw their own conclusions.

Despite being the first hentai to be animated, Lolita Anime boasts impressive production values superior to many contemporary hentai animation. Backgrounds are usually simplistic, but feel organic and naturally envelopes the characters equally simplistic in design. Unlike modern hentai character designs which are streamlined to archetypical norms, the girls in Lolita Anime feature bodies which are decently natural for their age. The breasts, however, are still larger than they would realistically be in contrast to the complete flatness commonly seen on lolis nowadays. Also deserving of mention is the background music consisting mostly of classical western scores, which, in addition to being pleasing to the ears blend naturally into the western settings of the series.

Lolita Anime is far more than the piece of pornography it may seem at first glance. Indeed, viewers looking for prompt gratification may be disheartened to know that they will not get it here. Instead, it takes a nuanced look at sexual depictions of lolis, and rewards those who dare venture with a wildly imaginative and occasionally disturbing journey.

What would you do if the one, uh, I mean, two things you hold most dearly are threatened to be taken away? This is no question for our protagonist and fellow twintails connoisseur Mitsuka Souji: of course you defend it with all your might! Plz stop deleting my reviews ok it makes me platinum mad.

Souji has just begun his first day in high school. Unmatched in his passion for twintails, he can only revel in the grandeur of all the damsels sporting his favorite hairstyle, much to the dismay of Tsube Aika whose affection for him goes beyond that of an ordinary childhood friend. Their ... peaceful days, however, comes to an end as the world faces unprecedented danger in an invasion from an alien species that lives off the power of passion, love, twintails, and fetishes. Souji won’t allow none of that, mind you; after being approached by the mysterious big-bust Twoearle he was granted the power to transform into cutiegirl Tailred with the best twintails in town if not literally the universe. Incidentally, his cutie form possesses power overwhelming enough to fend off the invaders and defend the world from these twintails-eating abominations.

Some may recall Kenzen Robo Daimidaler from earlier 2014 which plays on a similarly ridiculous premise but with mecha instead of mahou shoujo and sex drive instead of twintails power. Whereas Daimidaler abuses its premise for blatant fanservice and a few repetitive gags, Twintails employs comparably minimal fanservice and focuses on being consistently entertaining through creative jokes and sound plot progression. While intentionally absurd, it is not altogether void of essence as it may seem at a glance.

I Want to be the Twintails is a story about identity. It’s about standing up for who you are and what you love in the face of your worst adversaries. The protagonists and antagonists alike proudly parade their dubious interests in the heat of battle, for therein lies the source of their might. With zeal far beyond ridicule and shame, it is during these moments of peril they engrave their ephemeral existence into eternity. Souji fends off not only the alien invaders, he needs to constantly resist Twoearle’s and Aika’s attempts at wooing him as well as Mother’s insistence on his concession to sexual desires. But not once did Souji falter as he embraces a more refined pleasure by locking herself up and fingering herself in the twintails. This review is a ruse; I just really like Tailred. In contrast, student council president Shindou Erina finds strength through the release of her repressed sexuality. Twintails is about being honest with yourself and freeing your real you that is repressed in fear going against social expectations. The theme is a common one, but Twintails handles it with a touch of novelty and never strays from its original intent of entertainment.

Incidentally, there are two sides to all coins of the dual-faceted type. Even Souji is capable of viewing his love for twintails through a lens of irony. He acknowledges it as an irrational infatuation because such is the nature of passion. As much as it is a bliss for him, he realizes that it is not an ideal to be forced upon others. In her own words, “Twintails can only come to be on the hair on either side of the head that supports them!”. Despite this, he never rejects this infatuation even when his life is being threatened, not because he is senseless but because next to his love for twintails is his will to protect the world and battle alongside his friends.

I Want to be the Twintails is not about a hairstyle as much as it’s about being conscious of who you are and daring to be different. You know this show does. I think I’ll also grow a pair and play with them in the bathroom.

Oh woe is Jun - victim of cruel fate, poet of lost love. The tantalizing fruits of love are reaped yet never consumed. Poor Jun is left with naught, but to hunger evermore.

It's not easy to work up the courage to confess one's love, even less so for an kindergarten boy who believes himself unworthy of her reciprocal affection. To Kouno Jun's intense bewilderment, however, she requites his feelings in full measure. With a radiant smile and her pinky extended, Hasebe Rino asks for Jun's eternal love. Yet, as the promise is made, she vanishes into thin air without a trace. Fast forward to ... middle school, another Hasebe Rino appears but with no recollection of Jun. Call him committed or call him crazy, but Jun manages to woo this Hasebe too through sheer force of will. But alas, she too disappears from this world the instant their hearts connect, the cycle set to repeat itself once more.

The lion's share of Undead Lovers is simply episodic stories of Jun meeting and winning the hearts of different incarnations of Hasebe until the imminent moment of elation and subsequent sorrow strikes. Herein lies the greatest strength of the manga - Undead Lovers thrives on these episodic stories which the rather unique premise has enabled. The opportunity to start numerous relationships afresh is used to great effect: each Hasebe, in addition to varying in personality from one another, is accompanied by wildly different circumstances. This places the protagonist in interesting situations in which his indomitable commitment is put to the test. One chapter sees Hasebe as an elementary-schooler troubled in preparations of a school play, another stars her as a middle-schooler in love with a university student whom she can only admire on the morning trains. Hasebe never concedes her love to Jun easily; each story is served with its dose of comedy, tension and drama, and as such never fails in delivering entertainment. As there is usually only one chapter to depict the unfolding of each relationship, much unnecessary chatter is filtered away. Arguably, the constraints in space forces each story to advance at an unnatural pace, but the fast-fire approach to the narrative also augments its energetic style.

The problem, however, becomes apparent as the stories go on without any disclosure as to why Hasebe disappears. Throughout the course of its 11 chapters, there are minimal advancements in the main plot, and the story concludes without any resolution whatsoever. Although the clarification will indeed arrive in later parts which have yet to be released, the existing portion already suffers from its episodic structure. Little distinguishes the individual stories from other more elaborate pieces of fiction, and the constant presence of Jun gives the story a degree of repetitiveness despite interesting scenarios. People reading in hopes of a conclusive tale will be disappointed.

Speaking of disappointment: there are no zombies in Undead Lovers. Rather, the "Undead" refers to Jun and Hasebe's undying love through each reboot. The manga depicts love as an almighty force which encompasses one's entire being and transcends time or logic. This idea is presented convincingly as Jun overcomes all barriers between him and Hasebe, paying no heed to his pride, decorum, age differences, and its likes. "I love you" as his catchphrase, Jun spares no means to show just how raw and powerful his feelings are. His unwavering dedication in spite of adversities and his bitter position leads to many genuinely heart-felt moments where transient bliss mingles with melancholy and despair. The irony in this is that despite this glorification of the eternal love, his love for each Hasebe never does subsist beyond each disappearance. Not only does this contradict the manga's themes, it also prevents Jun from growing as a character and push the story to a resolution.

A crushing experience this whole business must be for Jun, whose efforts and commitment are all but rewarded. His despair is indeed evident, as he is sometimes portrayed metaphorically with his heart ripped out of his chest or his skin falling off his face. Yet, as he bounces back from each loss to seduce the new Hasebe, one cannot help but question his sanity. How can he remain sane going through such turmoil for his love knowing that as soon his desire is realized he shall be completely bereft of all which he has worked for? Rather than being shaped by each of his encounters, he seems to put them all behind and keeps on being driven by the one thing which defines him - his love for the current Hasabe. Little does he care for the fact that in wooing Hasabe she will cease to exist, and little remorse is shown for the ones which he has already caused to disappear. Perhaps he has spiraled into insanity from the strength of his love and the losses he face, but more probably this is an oversight on the author's part. Jun's static and sometimes uncompromising character is the most glaring fault of Undead lovers.

A love story this is, and so emotion is of paramount importance in its presentation. Being a debut work, Yuna Takagi shows surprising flair in accurately illustrating a wide array of emotions. The characters' countenance are wonderfully expressive. While expressions are often exaggerated for dramatic or comedic effect, she also manages to skillfully depict more subtle emotions and inner conflicts. On the other hand, Yuna's lack of experience does show in how she handles visual storytelling. Owing partly to the fast pacing of the manga, there are often excessive amounts of visual and verbal information cramped into little space. This frequently gives rise to intrusive speech bubbles, and works in conjunction with a shifting art-style and an overly dynamic panelling to make Undead Lovers an oftentimes visually taxing read. Yuna's artistic style does mature over time, and the later chapters suffer from these problems to a far lesser extent.

Undead Lovers is not a fulfilling love story. It is a collection of shorter stories, each fulfilling and touching on their own. The protagonist connects these stories; but a weak link he is, leaving much to be desired from the holistic work.

Kouno Jun may not be much of a poet; but if you repeat "I love you" a thousand times, does it not become the most genuine poem?

This right here is a cult classic, a chef d'oeuvrea buried under erroneous preconceptions and unfounded criticism. This gem is obscured because it does not shine; it is buried because its tone is that of abyssal black. Sakura Trick pries into to the darkest corners of our subconscious, the most visceral of our cognition, the most carnal of our urges, and the most primal of our instincts. Its sublimity will ever be debated yet always remain objectively irrefutable; the fundamental insight it provides into human and perhaps animalistic nature may shape the basis of sexual psychoanalysis for millennia to come.

Superficially, Sakura Trick appears to ... be an anime which caters to the most lowly and deprived among men; conceited critics dismiss it as such often without a second thought. As self-important as these self-proclaimed critics are, they fail to realize that Sakura Trick is indeed a trick, and they are the ones being tricked. Sakura petals, or cherry blossoms, are commonly associated with a sense of beauty and innocence in Japanese culture. As discussed by Ango Sakaguchi in Sakura no Mori no Mankai no Shita, sakura petals are often a means to enhance and stylize the atmosphere of a scene, be it melancholic, resplendent or sensual. Used famously in 5 Centimeters per Second, the sakura petals constructs an immense yet artificial atmosphere which proved successful in fooling the average fool incapable of critical analysis. What most critics fail to realize, however, is that Sakura Trick is playing them beyond this level. The entire visible layer of Sakura Trick is a euphemistic veil obfuscating the dark and uncanny human psyche which it explores; any tangible material is a metaphor for its meticulous meta-analysis of the metaphysical mentality’s pubertal metamorphosis.

As brilliantly put by Charles Baudelaire, “La sexualité est le lyrisme des masses.” In Ulysses, James Joyce subverts gender conceptions by deconstructing sexual stereotypes; in Lolita, Vladimir Nobakov delves into the abnormal perversion of hebephilia; in Doctor Glas, Hjalmar Soderberg studies sexual catharsis through murder; in Aquarion EVOL, Shoji Kawamori studies the manifestation of repressed sexuality as love. Time and again, great thinkers have demonstrated the immense potential of sexual psychoanalysis in narrative form.

Sakura Trick fulfills this potential.

The exterior plotline of Sakura Trick is straight forward - two damsels unknowingly in love with each other: Sonoda Yuu and Takayama Haruka, start high school in the same class with four other apparent lesbians. This premise alone poses innumerable questions of pertinence - most of which are problematized further and explored as the series progresses. Why are two girls romantically interested in each other? Why are there four more girls of questionable sexual orientation in their class? Were they perhaps influenced by Haruka’s and Yuu’s display of intimacy, implying a nurture over nature determination of sexuality? Do their behaviors suggest abnormalities in their amygdala activity, or is such behavior governed by the wider cerebral hemispheres? Hailed as the father of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud once said, “The sexual life of adult women is a dark continent for psychology.” The stringency and inadaptability of the traditional approach practiced by psychologists is to blame for this. Sakura Trick is unshackled from such rigidities - by investigating high school girls in late puberty, a time and setting in which sexuality is at its most volatile, and doing so through homosexuality rather than the vapid norm, it sheds light on the enigma which has eluded psychologists for centuries.

Perhaps most imperative and counter-intuitive of all, Sakura Trick investigates male sexuality through the scope of lesbianism. Je veux te baiser, baisez-moi! What is the sexual appeal in a couple which can only engage in abortive reproduction? When exposed to intercourse in explicit yuri, it is plausible that lust for the opposite gender can override the notion of evolutionary feasibility. Despite the lack of explicit intercourse in Sakura Trick, male viewers nonetheless experience a craving for the girls’ well-being instead of jealousy and contempt for one of them as would be rational. This paradox challenges not only the Darwinian theories of evolution, but also Freud’s theories of sexuality. He wrote, “A man's heterosexuality will not put up with any homosexuality, and vice versa.” Sakura Trick proves the exact contrary: heterosexual men more than put up with the homosexuality in the series. According to psychologist Henry Havelock Ellis, “Reproduction… is highly complex and not yet clearly understood. It is not necessarily connected with sex, nor is sex necessarily connected with reproduction.” Havelockian philosophy noticeably makes its mark in Sakura Trick; by taking hold of this anomaly in human behaviour and untangling its implications, it explores the darkest depths of our consciousness which borders between flesh and mind.

In his essay The Sexual Abberations, Freud discusses human disposition to perversions, including hebephilia, as an original and universal disposition of the human sexual instinct which is not limited to the psychologically ill. Sakura Trick takes this theory beyond mere discourse and puts it into practice. The characters in Sakura Trick are impeccably crafted, not only in their characterization and likability but primarily in their support of the series’ psychological study. Rather than each being equipped with sexually inviting traits, some characters are simply “cute”, for lack of a less vulgar word. A certain je ne sais quoi of the girls are successful in generating not just physical, but more importantly emotional cravings from the audience.

The brilliant technique of Sakura Trick’s probing into the atavistic lust is most aptly demonstrated through the analysis of the two main characters: Haruka and Yuu. On the one hand, Haruka is characterized by her lascivious and manipulative personality, pneumatic figure, seductive voice, and red hair indicative of her prurience. In contrast, Yuu has an innocent demeanor, underemphasized curves, a sweet voice characterized by childlike tenderness, and bright amber hair adorned with flowers – all of which are suggestive of a girl in the early stages of puberty. By contrasting these dichotomous traits, Sakura Trick follows in the wake of Vladimir Nobakov and his analysis of the abominable erotic attraction to the so called “nymphets”. A range of recent research by neurologists suggest paedophilia’s origin as a deep-rooted predisposition that does not change, rather than the previous theory of causation by psychological influences. Perhaps influenced by this paradigm shift, Sakura Trick attempts what has never been done before – bringing out, in men, pseudo-paedophilic reactions to girls older than the previously stipulated plateau age of thirteen. This is achieved through the stark contrast between Haruka’s maturity and Yuu’s infantility which tampers with the viewers’ preset dispositions. The additional fact that it succeeds in bringing out such abnormal responses not only in the susceptible older population, but chiefly among the young, truly underscores the groundbreaking impact of Sakura Trick.

La peinture parle d'elle-même, il n'y a rien à dire; to describe the artistic qualia of Sakura Trick would be to describe colour to the blind, wisdom to the young, or life to the unliving. The artistic eminence of this series is utterly unparalleled. The visuals are primarily based on a minimalistic design reminiscent of Frank Stella’s later paintings, yet some of the most visceral moments of the series display a paradoxical resemblance to abstract expressionism. This visual style is augmented by subtly and tactfully altering its background or occasionally foreground objects into abstract patterns or drawings depending on the situation and atmosphere. Certain patterns such as polka dots reoccur frequently throughout the series, showing inspirations from early pop-art but crafting a style most avant la lettre. In a masterful display of expertise in art-direction, these aesthetic shifts are extremely frequent yet uncontrived and never interfere with the viewers’ immersion. This enigmatic and radical style vividly complements the metaphysical nature of the series, reinforcing its character as an original pastiche of the post-modernist movement. It is an embodiment and perfection of the ideals that SHAFT had in mind for but failed to accomplish in their shows such as the Monogatari Series and Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.

Another of Sakura Trick’s aesthetic perks is its use of letterboxing: further cinematic flare is added to the already immersive series through the occasional framing of the video in bars. However, in an bold act of defiance and subversion, Sakura Trick makes use of white bars rather than the traditional black. In addition exuding an ephemerally fey charm, the white letterboxing holds several implications that one may only speculate on. Does it symbolize the series’ immense depth as it creates a dual-layered letterboxing on monitors which do not match its aspect ratio? Does its brightness reflect the series’ enlightening exploration of the previously unknown? Does it indicate the series’ nature as an antithesis to conventional psychology? Incidentally, Sakura Trick shows an abnormal and seemingly perverse focus on the characters thighs. In any other context, this would be plain pandering to the lowest common denominator. Nevertheless, when contextualized in sexual analysis one will realize the use of thighs as a study of fetishistic reactions to sexually inert objects. Sakura trick is sublime not only in the depth of its investigation, but also in its breadth.

Enjoyment may be a pivotal factor of anime-viewing for the ordinary viewer. For experienced critics such as I, however, examining a show of such depth and complexity brings only misery and agony (which true intellectuals welcome, mind you). Attempts at analyzing Sakura Trick’s implications and unraveling its messages necessitate great concentration and effort, which is further exacerbated when so much of my blood flows elsewhere than my brain when viewing this show. As studied in neuromagnetic stimulations, encumbering the brain to a great extent can be a cause for physical pain. We critics are martyrs – through our self-sacrifice we free plebeians of their ignorance and ablute them of their sins.

There have been numerous undisputable masterpieces among anime, such as the Ishihaya Tatsuya’s strikingly realistic classic Clannad or the tactique extraordinaire Code Geass by Taniguchi Goro. Sakura Trick will not join their ranks; its surface is too generic, its themes too provocative, and its messages too obscure. It will remain underground – treasured by the most avant-garde among intellectuals for its edifying if horrifying insight into the fundaments of sexuality. Philistines and self-proclaimed critics alike will shun Sakura Trick, but you can’t fault them for that. It takes boundless wisdom to appreciate its subtleties, and courage to side with the unpopular opinion. Sed domi maneas paresque nobis novem continuas fututiones. The time of Sigmund Freud’s sovereignty over psychoanalysis has passed; Sakura Trick is the herald of a new era that is to come.

It’s just another ordinary day in school; Madoka and her classmates sit in wonder and disbelief as they struggle to make sense of Saotome-sensei’s daily ramblings. On this particular day, she seems to be sermonizing about Armageddon and the Second Coming of Christ. “Ridiculous”, they must think, but little do they know that the end may well be nigh.

In a surreal land of childlike sketches and jovial colours, the viewers are greeted by ballet dancers skipping to melodious violin, a stitched-together gothic puppet with its tongue sticking out of its wide inane grin, and a rainbow gate with the words “Welcome to Cinema” carved onto ... it. Cue a battle royale of the puppet against a graceful quintet of mahou shoujos in a theatrical fairytale environment, and we are completely cast into the magical universe of Kaname Madoka and co. The world they live in is seemingly a utopia: Madoka and her previously deceased friends are alive; they are under no perceptible threat, and Homura is not weighed down by unbearable burdens. For the first time, Madoka, Homura, Sayaka, Kyouko, and Mimi are able to battle alongside each other in a proper mahou shoujo setting, complete with flamboyant transformation sequences and extravagant spells. It does not take long, however, until Homura begins to question the legitimacy of the unrealistically ideal world they live in. As she unravels the truth of the world and herself, she is flooded by a multitude of conflicting feelings and eventually rebels against the very laws of the universe.

Rebellion is the third installment in the Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica movies trilogy, and acts as a sequel for the famed TV series. Once again, Urobuchi Gen delivers his controversial signature writing in a brand new chapter of the story we all thought had ended. The question most of us will ask when venturing into this movie is undoubtedly this: is Rebellion a necessary and worthy addition to the Madoka franchise?

Perhaps most striking about Rebellion at first glance is its diverse usage of visuals: the movie effortlessly and erratically switches between vastly distinct background art styles. Sometimes, the art is characterized by the minimal and geometric design typical of Akiyuki Shinbou’s directorial works. Other times, the art takes a drastic turn for the abstract, and blends various techniques into a hectic and expressionistic concoction. Complemented by Yuki Kajiura’s uniquely atmospheric soundtrack, and the viewers find themselves as immersed into this world of unearthly beauty as they are alienated from the foreign animation approach. Appropriate to its themes, the contrast between the different styles is immense yet increasingly blurred. At one point, a backdrop of an impressionistic painting is integrated with a three dimensional structure, and a cg-animated bus rolls in the middle of this alien landscape. The mixing and distortion of the different styles of art certainly reflects the overall ambiguity of the movie.

Moreover, Rebellion’s narrative makes far heavier use of symbolic imagery than its predecessor. As both the physical and metaphysical realms may be depicted in abstract techniques with little regard to physical laws, the distortion of the world becomes almost completely uninhibited. A picture is worth a thousand words, and Rebellion truly embodies this adage as the visuals append an unwritten layer of meaning to the narrative. The frequently indeterminate boundary between reality and imagery often becomes overwhelming and occasionally heavy-handed. When Homura realizes the hellish reality of the ostensibly utopian world she is trapped in, the city becomes depicted as a raging inferno in which gothic figures smirk at her misfortune, and the shadow casted by her despairing outline spawns blood red nerine flowers.

The star of the movie, Homura, undergoes tremendous development and metamorphosis throughout the course of the movie. In contrast, the remaining cast is largely neglected, and even the eponymous hero Madoka is reduced from a main character to more of a conceptual presence. Neither does the introduction of a new mahou shoujo, Momoe, hold any major significance to the entirety of the movie. Rather than letting each character take part naturally in the flow of the story, they are each designated a specific role and given the spotlight for a moment before the attention shifts. Nevertheless, the contrived use and presentation of the side characters is not a severe impairment to the movie, as the focus on Homura allows the audience to witness in torturous detail the breaking of a girl who lost her most loved one.

Homura’s character is neither linear nor predictable. Amidst the various phases of turmoil she goes through, Rebellion challenges and blurs the dichotomy of heaven and hell, selflessness and selfishness, love and lust, and most importantly good and evil. Throughout the first section of the movie, she searches for truth in order to break away from the imaginary world she is trapped in, even though it contained all she’s ever dreamed of. Yet, by the end of the movie, she betrays this very principle in a bewildering turn of personality, which easily gives an impression of poorly planned characterization. The problem with that conception is that it does not take into consideration the entirety of Homura’s development. Her stages of introspection, self-discovery, self-denial, and catharsis are shown not only in dialogue and body language, but also extensively depicted through symbolic imagery. Her figurative execution of self; her worship of Madoka as Christ; the rain of black droplets taking on the shape of her figure, crushing their white counterparts which struggle to subsist; all of these illustrate the extent of the mayhem erupting within her inner life. The abundant reliance on imagery in depiction of Homura’s character is puzzling and often ostentatious, but it provides pivotal insight into her emotions absent from dialogue and is essential in justifying her final act of rebellion.

By the end of the story, the viewers are faced with a loaded question: has Homura converted to evil? The concept of immorality is challenged, as she straddles the line of complete selflessness and selfishness. She betrays the hope of her friends; she forsakes the will of Madoka; she abandons her own principles. All this for an emotion “more passionate than hope, far deeper than despair”, she declares in an ungodly smirk and deviously affectionate voice, “Love”. Rebellion is a conclusion which raises questions rather than providing closure.

Urobuchi Gen is famous for his grim storytelling overflowing with despair. Yet, underneath all of those tales, there is a fundamental philosophy; an engulfing hope which shows Gen’s utter love for humanity. Every one of his stories may not end on a happy note, but none are devoid of his veritably humanistic morality. That is, until he wrote Rebellion. Unless it is but a segment in a story which is yet to be concluded, it can only be seen as the complete breakdown of a girl overpowered by her conflicting feelings. It is not a necessary addition to the Madoka franchise, as it robs the comfort of closure from its viewers. Nonetheless, it is an excellent addition: a true audiovisual journey which makes superb but arguably excessive usage of the medium it is delivered in. Anyone venturing into Rebellion should expect nothing short of a feast in overwhelming magnitudes. They shall dine on an appetizer of rapture, a main course of despair, and a dessert of irony.

Pupa is a symbolic story of an abused maiden, Yume, who upon entering puberty develops an abominable and perilous love for her older brother Utsutsu. Seemingly a series which only caters to those who are gratified by gore and incestuous lust, Pupa actually explores, more than most other “imouto shows”, the complexities of the tabooed love between siblings.

Perhaps most importantly, understanding of the series’ themes necessitates recognizing the circumstances surrounding the siblings’ childhood, and the Freudian psychoanalyses which the author may well have been inspired by. Sigmund Freud pioneered the field of psychology during his time, and a significant portion of his revolutionary findings ... can be summarized into the notion that powerful childhood experiences, even if the subject does not remember said experiences, can subconsciously and drastically affect the development of libido and bring about what is known in psychology as “sexual aberrations”.

Yume and Utsutsu grew up with an abusive and sadistic father, their only solace lying in each other. Utsutsu seeks comfort from his sole purpose of defending his beloved sister, whereas Yume is soothed only by her brother’s protecting arms. Yume is, metaphorically, a pupa containing the unnatural feelings imprinted into her subconscious during her childhood. Fast forward to puberty, and these feelings undergo a metamorphosis into a “monster”, in this case her monstrous lust for her brother. Both Yume herself and her surroundings realize the abominable nature of her love, yet Utsutsu remains in complete denial as Yume’s love has always been a natural and pivotal part of his life.

There are several factors which gives rise to this interpretation. Yume morphs into a monster in a set time-cycle, and requires feeding in this cycle. This is comparable to the menstruation cycle which initiates during puberty, and the cyclical inclination to sexual activities which arises from it. While this depiction is blatantly simplified and even sexist, it is not completely unjustified as a symbolic representation of an especially anomalous case. The infamous feeding sessions are, as many suspected, metaphors for sexual intercourse. Both parts are reluctant to this act; Yume is afraid of hurting his brother for her own selfish desires, while Utsutsu is unable to derive sexual enjoyment from intercourse with his sibling, hence his suffering during feeding. Yet, he is unable to leave his sister in misery, and Yume imminently succumbs to her lust. Interestingly, neither characters perceive the act as perverted or sexualized, further proving the psychological derangement of them.

As Yume and Utsutsu fall deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole, their conflicting feelings are depicted as outside forces which seek to interfere with their relations. Both are chained and tormented by unknown institutions, which they are eventually forced to confront and demolish. Perhaps they shatter the barrier erected by the morality of society, as symbolized by the slaughtering of the soldiers? Or do they overcome the innate biological repulsion toward incestuous acts, symbolized by the malign scientists? Yume’s and Utsutsu’s struggles with themselves as well as each other are undoubtedly convoluted, and Pupa provides an interesting and unconventional depiction of this strife.

Any analysis above is only that of the writing and themes, and it is important to keep in mind that the anime is an adaptation by studio DEEN of the manga original. As is widely established, the animated Pupa’s production values are certainly not top-notch. While the animations are completely inexcusable, I personally do not find the art or sound too terrible considering that most shorts are not visual spectacles. Though this is rather inconsequential in its evaluation. More importantly, the short length of the adaptation has simplified the story to the point that it scarcely contains anything beyond vital plot elements. Add to this the frequent interruption of the narrative and the pacing problems it imposes, it becomes rather difficult to form an emotional attachment to the characters or the story.

In conclusion, I do not think Pupa deserves all the ridicule and hatred that is being dished out. It provides a fascinating and unique symbolic illustration of the overused incest trope, complete with a hint of psychoanalysis that it deserves. Yet, when subjected to the magical touch of studio DEEN, it becomes a terrible series from every perspective other than the psychological.

Dir En Grey is something of a controversial band. Since its conception more than a decade ago, it had for a long time been at the forefront of the Visual Kei movement in challenging the norms of music, sexuality, and morality. Of course, the distinction between meaningful social critique and unsubstantial shock value is not always clear-cut, as is the case with the anime in question. Agitated Screams of Maggots is a single released by Dir En Grey in 2006. This anime, or music video to be more precise, was released alongside the single featuring a hand-drawn story to complement the song.

As the band ... itself, this music video is undoubtedly and inherently a controversial work. Composed of heavy deathcore playing alongside crudely drawn animations with inspirations from the ero-guro and the surrealist movement, it certainly is not easily appreciated by everyone. This video sets out with the intentions of revolting its viewers with morbid imagery and macabre sound, and invariably succeeds in that regard. As hinted at by its name, Agitated Screams of Maggots is an incredibly grotesque work both visually and aurally. The viewers are introduced to a woman, who during cooking is startled by a giant maggot which she slices asunder in panic. The two pieces of remains, while apparently engaging in intercourse with each other, are subsequently discovered by the daughter who, in her naïve revulsion, proceeds to stomp them to death. Later on during dinner, the mother is infected by a maggot, turns into a monstrous being, and is ultimately tortured and killed by the daughter.

The story of Agitated Screams of Maggots, already immensely repugnant, is further brutalized by its depiction. The animation is a slideshow of hand-drawn paintings characterized by a raw and sketchy appearance. In conjunction with the noticeably low frame rate, the animations emanate a glitched and discomforting vibe. The art style employs a mix of surreal absurdity with the exaggerated and uncensored display of sexuality and gore typical to the ero-guro movement. While being mostly monochrome, a portion of the gore is coloured blood red in contrast to its pale surroundings, which gives it an unnatural and disturbing vividness. Due to the roughness of the art and animation, it is easy to miss the amount of painstaking detail etched into them. The shading is outstanding, giving a three dimensional solidity where needed but without ever deviating from the sketch-art design. The style, however, is dynamic throughout the video: some scenes are drawn with greater spatial depth than others; the stroke smoothness and definition varies in different scenes; and some drawn backgrounds are replaced with complete blackness. The different techniques are utilized for a range of reasons, such as mood setting, foreground emphasis, and psychological significance. The plain and unpleasant art design often obscures the true aesthetic merit of this video from the neglecting eye.

While the animation is merely a complement for the song by Dir En Grey, and not the other way around, the music is in actuality rather inconsequential to the holistic work of the video. The song Agitated Screams of Maggots is a typical composition of the deathcore subgenre; it combines aggressive guitar riffs, wild drumming, shrieks, and growls into a flurry of madness and anger. While the tone of the song reflects and enhances the overall atmosphere of the video, the different segments are not synchronized with the separate parts of the video. Dir En Grey’s musical style gone through constant change since its formation, with a gradual but tangible shift from its signature experimental and avant garde style into more conventional forms of metal. Agitated Screams of Maggots can be placed on the latter end of the spectrum; it conforms to the standards of death metal, and is relatively monotone compared to the band’s more disturbing earlier songs which would be more suitable of the atmosphere. The music simply does not strengthen the video as much as the animation style does.

The gruesome albeit nonsensical story of Agitated Screams of Maggots is meaningless unless viewed in context with its lyrics, which details a person’s despair and resentment toward celebrities and the society which supports them. Sadly, the lyrics are yelled rather than spoken, making it impossible to discern any meaning whatsoever from hearing alone. This leads to the misconception that the animation’s only relevance to the music is the loose connection of the maggot. When contextualized, it becomes apparent that the song is sung from the maggot’s perspective. The person, compared to celebrities, is symbolically reduced to the rank of a maggot, and may only vent his frustration through agitated screams. Nevertheless, not all themes are matched completely, and substantial room is open for analysis and interpretation, such as the infection of the mother and the thematic role of the daughter. Interpretation is further complicated by Dir En Grey’s relationship with stardom, as they are veritable celebrities themselves.

Agitated Screams of Maggots can in essence be seen as a revoltingly macabre music video; whether or not its song is to the viewer’s palate will dictate to a great degree the enjoyment that is derived from it. Though it is worth noting that Agitated Scream of Maggots was never meant to be viewed for pleasure to begin with; if you are not sickened and forced to the edge of your seat, you are not enjoying it the right way. Nevertheless, the story’s thematic and symbolic significance should not be entirely disregarded. Contrary to what it is often perceived as, Agitated Screams of Maggots is more than a mindless jumble of freaks and ghouls with shrieks and growls.