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The true genius of Kuuchuu Buranko is difficult to pick up on, veiled as it is by colourful characters, humorous dialogue and direction that rivals the likes of Satoshi Kon's work for sheer weirdness. Indeed, without the implicit subtext it would be little more than an intriguing novelty, a slightly unconventional documentary almost. With the layered messages that this show dispenses and leaves you to ponder, it becomes one of the most near-perfect masterpieces of the visual medium, and a hauntingly bitter one at that.

That's right: under the colours and the comedy, Kuuchuu Buranko is a series characterised by an impassioned attack on its own ... audience.

The setup is simple: each episode follows the interactions between madcap psychiatrist Ichiro Irabu (whose primary methodology involves talking absolute nonsense) and one of his many patients, all of whom find Irabu's approach to psychiatric treatment baffling at first, but ultimately effective. Issues raised include common phobias, OCD, sexuality and addiction, and it's likely that at least one episode will seem relevant to you or someone you know. To help things along, a character known as Fukuicchi pauses the show semi-regularly to explain the various psychological conditions depicted in order to give us a fuller understanding of what's going on. That understanding is key to the show's underlying message, which is more subtextual and elevates the series above any heavy-handed attempt to simply raise awareness.

In short, Kuuchuu Buranko's key theme is empathy.

WARNING: We will now be venturing into the territory of mild spoilers.

It's important to note here that Kuuchuu Buranko is incredibly funny. You will laugh at Irabu's zany antics and the absolutely spot-on dialogue, and so you'll probably also feel reasonably comfortable giggling at the strange behaviour of seemingly unimportant side characters, including a yakuza mobster who keeps trying to stab himself in the eye with a pen (and is impeded by a pair of goggles) and a salaryman who walks around with a permanent bow. When those characters later appear as patients, you might start to pick up on what this series is really going for. And when the show's absolutely brutal finale kicks in, you'll be left feeling more than a little shitty. The point is, it's very easy to laugh at people whose behaviour doesn't seem normal, and to subsequently dismiss them as simply being weird, but to do so suggests a lack of understanding, and a refusal to consider the possibility that that behaviour reflects very real psychological trauma. It's not uncommon to pass people in the street who are behaving in unusual ways, and it's easy to dismiss and trivialise their actions by validating your own with social convention.

And that's Kuuchuu Buranko's real angle. With it's interweaving of various episodic narrative threads and with the charismatic Irabu at the centre, Kuuchu Buranko aspires to draw out prejudices that the audience doesn't even know that they've absorbed, and to then confront you with them in its absolute gut-punch of a final episode. Few examples of fiction promote introspection as effectively as this one, and next-to-none are this confrontational about it.

It hurts you because it loves you though; Kuuchuu Buranko simply wants you to be a better person.

The series' aesthetic style may be where people struggle slightly. I know a lot of people dislike rotoscoping, and it certainly can't be said that anything about the art is conventional if you approach the series as you would approach any other anime, but I personally love the use of colour, symbolic visual motifs and Irabu's strange (and constantly changing) character design. Even the rotoscoping serves to make the characters feel that little bit more human, and is just another way that this series sets itself apart from the industry around it. I found no fault with the aesthetics or animation.

One issue that I do have relates to the show's framing of gender, as the series features almost no female characters at all, and absolutely no female patients. Female cast members are limited to Mayumi, Irabu's sexy live-action nurse who's more supermodel than actual character and serves very little purpose, and certain side characters who mostly go unnamed and are never fully explored. The result of doing this makes the message feel a bit exclusive, and arguably suggests that the writer affords less importance to the psychological traumas of women or simply believes in a predominantly male audience that can't empathise as readily with female characters. There was no real reason that certain patients in this series couldn't have been female, and the result would've been a series that's more inclusive and accessible to a broader audience, which would only have helped the series' message to get through.

Still, few TV shows or movies have come this close to perfect, and it's hard to argue that I found Kuuchuu Buranko any less effective as a result of this one particular fault. If it didn't have this issue, I might actually be calling it perfect. As it is, it's only near-perfect. Its powerful and assertive assault on its audience's sensibilities is something I've never witnessed in any other example of narrative fiction, and the result is a truly stand-out anime series that'll have a remarkable impact on all who watch it. Highly recommended.

[The bulk of this review was written after the release of episode 9]

If you can imagine a situation in which Schindler's List knocks up Kill la Kill, and the subsequent child is raised primarily by a nanny called Spongebob Squarepants, then it's entirely possible that you're imagination is just a little too active for your own good.

Sorry, sorry, serious face now. I have to confess that I find it incredibly difficult to gauge exactly what kind of show Yoru no Yatterman is trying to be. On the one hand, it's set in a bleak dystopia where a combination of fabricated history and rule by an ... iron fist has led to the creation of a society where simply existing is a crime sufficient to earn you a lifetime in a concentration camp that would make even the most rampant Nazi sympathiser blush. On the other hand, it's main characters are 3 costumed goofballs who go travel the country being unashamedly silly at people while being beset upon by a bunch of utterly incompetent costumed supervillains who fight using colourful animal-themed mechs. It's not above including talking animals, toilet humour, casual ecchi fanservice and downright bizarre battle scenes. It's also not above depicting the horrors of genocide and having the main characters indirectly slaughter large numbers of thinking, feeling, squishy humans.

Fun fun fun!!!

The totally overbearing nature of Yoru no Yatterman's rampant inconsistency makes me wonder if the series might actually be making some kind of point. It's relatively dim view of the conventional hero archetype and the apparent conflict between its gritty setting and goofy style could very easily be interpreted as a criticism of the hypocritical way that more conventional high fantasy attempts to impress upon its audience the importance of heroism while simultaneously shying away from images of "true" villainy. However, to assert this interpretation is to imply a degree of sophistication in a series that also incorporates (among other things) exploding poop bombs, a man with a fish fetish and a chimpanzee who can drive.

It's not impossible, but something about the thought just doesn't sit right.

Besides, if Yoru no Yatterman is working to dispel conventional notions of heroic and villainous archetypes, then it's doing a bloody weak job of it. I actually quite liked the fact that the central protagonist is established as a young female character with very limited fighting ability, but Galina's more straightforward heroic arc and Doronjo's growing affection for him as the series goes on (paired with the fact that she hasn't really achieved anything in 9 episodes and repeatedly has to get rescued by her male companions to a slightly suspect degree) does undermine any notion that the series is trying for a touch of irony. If it is, it ain't taking that self-awareness far enough.

OK, quick disclaimer, given that we're several paragraphs in and I haven't really answered the crucial question of whether Yoru no Yatterman is good. It ain't bad. The comedy is a bit hit-and-miss, the action scenes are overblown to the point of being incoherent and the story is largely predictable despite its pretension towards defying convention. There's a severe lack of actual character development after the relatively strong first episode and any sense of overarching tension is undermined by the protagonists' apparent invulnerability and the conspicuous absence of the central antagonist (who has yet to make even a single appearance, to the point that it's a little suspicious). [That said and having finished the series, I was write to think that the absence of the main villain was suspicious]. Aesthetic is good, but actual animated movement is shoddy.

In short, Yoru no Yatterman is entertaining, but I hesitate to say that I'd recommend it in the same way that I might enthusiastically push Magi or Kill la Kill in front of you. The above flaws (including that troublesome inconsistency issue) hold it back considerably, but it also has some impressive novelty value and I certainly prefer it's more creative style over a number of the more straightforward shounen anime of recent years.

OK, so let's get back to the problem of determining exactly what Yoru no Yatterman is trying to be, for only then can we hope to determine whether it is successful. If I were a cynical man (I am, by the way), I'd call it an attempt to capitalise on the recent success of over-the-top shounen stuff while simultaneously reviving awareness of a franchise that perhaps isn't as popular as it used to be. Never seen the original series, so this is difficult for me to judge. I'm more inclined to say that it's a show that's aimed at a slightly younger demographic than the one I fit into, and that would explain why it gets away with such a dark subtext despite its relative silliness. A younger child is, after all, more likely to overlook such things in the face of goofy comedy and flashing colours.

Yeah, I don't like kids. Clearly.

My conclusion is that Yoru no Yatterman lets itself down as an unfortunate result of its very strong first episode, which paints an image of a compelling character-driven action series that the show itself just isn't. It's fun but shallow stuff to be half-watched and then forgotten within a few hours as you search for the next big distraction. It's got some neat ideas that, in the right hands, could inject some life into a deeper series, but in this case all they achieve is to make the exact intent of the show a little difficult to determine. [Nevertheless, I do recommend this series purely based on its virtues as a simple and sweet time-killer].

Sword Art Online is a shounen action-romance that's got more in common with The Taming of the Shrew than it does with Romeo and Juliet.

The reason I bring Shakespeare's plays into this review at the very start is to firmly establish where SAO's biggest misstep lies. Romeo and Juliet is a play so influential that it's not only spawned a huge number of productions and adaptations (including one remarkably subversive anime series, which I wholeheartedly recommend), but it's also established the standard that the majority of romantic fiction ultimately aspires to: stories in which infatuated couples remain steadfast in the face of adversity (even if ... that steadfastness isn't evident in the play itself). It did this while simultaneously challenging the patriarchal zeitgeist of the Elizabethan period, depicting both of the titular protagonists as fully-fleshed out characters instead of the gendered archetypes that had pervaded fiction for millennia even by that point in time. See, now we're getting to it. The Taming of the Shrew is, in contrast, one of Shakespeare's more thematically contentious works, so much so that even its myriad of cinematic adaptations have presented some way to subvert or challenge the subtext that the original play enshrines. In short, it was a frank endorsement of misogyny and domestic abuse in which a fickle and often times rebellious young woman was "tamed" by a man who near-literally beats her independent spirit into submission. Yeah, Shakespeare wrote that.

To reiterate, Sword Art Online does more to advocate the misogynistic qualities of The Taming of the Shrew than it does the idealistic romanticism of Romeo and Juliet. I'm sorry if that sounds more than a little hysterical, but that's how it is, and it's a subtextual issue so glaring that not even the show's few shining moments can serve as an effective disguise.

What really shields Sword Art Online's pre-modern sensibilities more than anything else is the seriously effective setup, which does a stunning job of painting a vivid and creative world that unfortunately ends up amounting to little more than a framework for bad character drama and near-nonsensical plot progression. And I'm not joking when I say that Sword Art Online's setup is SERIOUSLY effective! The context is well thought out and the design features on show are absolutely stunning right from the get-go. It has one of the best second episodes ever, and it follows that up by dealing out inventive and well-directed fight sequences and a few scenes of genuinely moving character drama. The characters all have appealing charisma, and lead female protagonist Asuna is established as being equal parts conscientious, wilful and conflicted. The foundations are there for one of the most compelling shounen anime that combines culturally-relevant context with strong action and dramatic romance, but unfortunately, Sword Art Online's way is to lay strong foundations and then build the rest of its structure up from loosely-packed mud.

Standing at the forefront of this storytelling debacle is the kind of pandering misogynistic characterisation that storytellers were making efforts to move past centuries ago. Our protagonist, Kirigaya Kazuto (know in-game as Kirito), is a mid-teens gamer who begins the titular death game with a slight advantage over anyone else because he took part in the game's beta test. The fact that he's a dedicated gamers makes the intention here clear: this is evidently the character that the audience is meant to relate to, even if those characteristics really only allow for a superficial connection, and his immediate distinction from those around him (which continues as he becomes increasingly overpowered) serves as a portent to the show's attempts to imitate the kind of male-centric power fantasies that have entertained the insecure and done little else for countless years. Attempts are made to make him genuinely sympathetic through the act of establishing an arc focusing on his guilt at the death of close friends and his isolation from other players due to his nature as a "Beater," but it never feels more than an arbitrary attempt to give him a personality that extends beyond just being effortlessly cool. Very little of it carries any real emotional weight, and you certainly won't find yourselves reflecting on the show's interpersonal conflicts once they've been and gone.

Kirito's one thing, but the real horror here rests in the depiction of the fairer sex: the girls. There's a scene in episode 1 of season 2 in which Kirito discusses his plans to pursue a career in the development of VR technology, to which romantic interest Asuna responds simply with the banal statement "I want to stay with you forever." That basically sums it up. No female character has an existence that extends beyond being a romantic interest or secondary backup harem member to Kirito. This is made even worse by the fact that the show knowingly establishes motivations in nearly all of them. Asuna wants to lead the other players to victory. Yui wants to break free of the system and live a happy life with her adopted parents. Season 2's Sinon is given the most creative backstory yet (PTSD following a genuinely brutal personal trauma as a child), but even as I write this the show seems primed to shove those interesting internal conflicts aside in favour of reducing Sinon to another vapid love interest. All because that's just what SAO does. It takes any established personality trait in its female characters and hammers them flat until the characters themselves are fundamentally indistinguishable from one another.

They even have identical faces.

SAO's second big issue is that Kawahara simply has no idea how to tie the events of the story together. That's right, rule-bending contrivances are the name of the game! Any tension that manifests throughout feels inconsequential simply because, no matter what, the writer will find a way to make things work out. This is painfully obvious, and it really reaches some totally ridiculous levels. Need the MC to solo a high-level monster? Have him manifest a unique skill from nowhere. Need the audience (or at least the less intuitive of the audience) to think that the two leads are dead? Add "Power of Will" rules that allow for temporary resurrections. The worst example comes near the end of the Fairy Dance Arc, when a character comes back to life from nowhere simply so that the big showdown can reach some kind of resolution, however blatantly contrived it may be. That's not good writing! Sword Art Online keeps tying its few good ideas together with contrived and often superfluous rubbish that fails to have any kind of dramatic impact. Kawahara-sensei, you can do better than this! I've seen Accel World. Yeah, it wasn't a game-changer, but that was actually a pretty good shounen!

I don't think I need to keep going. Sword Art Online is bad. Not average, but straight-up bad. It enshrines the misogyny of The Taming of the Shrew while simultaneously putting on the face, Hannibal Lecter style, of Romeo and Juliet and a thousand other better action-romances. It's steeped in and derivative of the worst storytelling traditions, and despite being beautifully-framed and staged it does little to disguise the venomous subtext within. If you've not already seen it, continue to avoid it. If you have and you, like many others, genuinely feel that this series represents the epitome of fantasy fiction, I beg you to re-evaluate. We seriously can't let rubbish like this become the most commercially viable thing for producers to unleash upon a world where anime as a medium has the potential to do genuinely great things. Please, don't let it happen.

No Game No Life is one of the latest in a long, long, looooong line of shows in which a conventional author-insert protagonist who's supposed to be representative of the target audience (even while he's being impossibly badass) is dragged into a fantastical scenario in which he forms a harem of attractive female stock types and spends 12-25 episodes acting like a total boss and getting fawned over by the aforementioned bevy of babes. Chances are, you've seen that before. Sword Art Online. Highschool DxD. Black Bullet. Date A Live. In the same way that Hollywood regularly puts out films designed to pander to the ... egos of insecure men paranoid that modern society is leaving them emasculated and who demand films that reassure them that, yes, men still rule (here's looking at you Taken), the anime industry's usual output are shows designed to pander to self-proclaimed `social underdogs` (who, industry executives presume either cynically or realistically, represent the bulk of anime viewers) who want to be told that they're still the most awesome people out there. No Game No Life is one of those.

And, almost uniquely, it's one of the few series that manages to make that formula kinda enjoyable for audiences who were never really invested in the whole Male Power Fantasy tradition (at least while still managing to be totally unironic about the whole thing).

So yeah, No Game No Life is undeniably really standard stuff, and in lesser hands that might have cost it dearly. In this case, it's actually worth shutting out the subtext because the finished product, issues of representation and originality aside, is still pretty entertaining. Why is that? 'Cos the focus rests very strongly on comedy and action without allowing the show's underlying thematic missteps to take over and demand that we take the whole affair seriously. That's it. It gets away with being dumb because it's also fun, which a depressing amount of shounen anime these days forget to be. Even while the characters adhere to fairly conventional archetypes, they still manage to be endearing and their interactions are incredibly entertaining. The female characters are very overtly moecchi stock, but they still manage to contribute to the narrative through their own actions rather than simply serving as Damsels in Distress, Sexy Lamps or whatever other gendered clichés have permeated storytelling since God knows how long ago. The series takes cues from adventure stories that are more about being fun, action-packed romps rather than resonant thematic odysseys, and uses its 2-dimensional but fairly loveable characters to tell a simple and seriously enjoyable little tale.

The comedy's great, but in retrospect what you're really going to remember here is the action, which ends up being what most of the show exists in service of. The far-fetched premise paired with some pretty impressive direction allows for action sequences creative and intense enough to stand at the peak of the anime subgenre. What stands out here is the fact that none of it's dumbed down. The strategies at play are incredibly complex, employing mind-bending misdirection, stunning twists, encyclopaedic knowledge and totally awesome visuals all while maintaining coherence. It's testament to how intelligent ideas can amount to little more than dumb fun, as well as proof that the writer genuinely cared about making the story thrilling as well as entertaining. The tension is undermined somewhat by the fact that the protagonists are gifted with a kind of Narrative Invincibility that stops them from making any mistakes that might prove irreversible. Fortunately, the intricacy and inventiveness of the action, as well as the seamless relationship between the action and the comedy, incites just enough awe that the lack of genuine suspense doesn't feel like an issue.

As well as the subtextual issues I outlined earlier, No Game No Life does have its problems. The act of reducing PTSD in the two lead characters to a recurring gag with no real emotional weight feels like it could be pushing the boundaries of political correctness a little further than they should really go, and scenes which take advantage that for comedic effect don't have the desired impact. A couple of the early Game scenes aren't particularly good, but that kinda comes down to their small scale and the lack of any real stakes. They serve their purposes as exposition, but manage little else.

What ends up being both ones of the show's most striking features and one of its biggest sticking points is the aesthetic. The design elements on display are pretty creative and stunning to look at, character designs are better than average for this kind of thing and it all flows very well with fantastic movements and good editing. The issue rests in the fact that the use of colour can sometimes be a bit too much. That is, sometimes shots are so saturated by the hugely colourful palette and almost omnipresent lens flare that making out detailed movements and silhouettes becomes a chore. A shame, given that every other element of the production is absolutely awesome to behold.

To conclude, if you're the kind of guy or girl that genuinely engages with the messages of this variety of trashy shounen light-novel adaptation, give it a miss and go watch something with some actual thematic integrity. I worry that you might watch this and start to think that acting like Sora is genuinely cool. That said, if you are able to just shut off you brain for a bit and enjoy some fun, over-the-top action-comedy, then No Game No Life really does deserve your time. It remembers that this stuff is all about being entertaining and doesn't try to put up the usual façade of grittiness or empty thematic pretence to disguise its adherence to generic formula and heavily-gendered narrative tradition. In fact, it embraces the silliness of its concept with open arms and manages to be one of the most fun shounen anime of the last few years. Check it out.

I have a strong suspicion that I'll ruffle a few feathers when I say that I prefer this short moe spin-off of Soul Eater over the original Soul Eater anime, but I don't feel that that stance is at all unjustified. This review's going to be pretty comparative, as the original series has flaws that, when viewed alongside the spin-off, throw Soul Eater NOT's strong points into sharp relief.

The big issue with Soul Eater that marks it as a resoundingly average anime series is its delusions of grandeur, its utter conviction that it has coherent context and engaging subtext. In reality, Soul Eater lacks either. ... It adopts the persona of a broody shounen that uses a madcap style in order to contrast over-the-top comedy with darker storytelling, but that's all pretentious because it makes no effort to effectively deconstruct the majority of its characters and link them to any overt underlying message. The result feels moody without justification, like it wants to be taken seriously despite the fact that it isn't actually saying anything (in a sense, the anime equivalent of Tim Burton's more recent films). The majority of the characters (with the obvious exceptions of Black Star, Crona and Stein) feel more like archetypes or cardboard cutouts than realistic or relatable individuals.

(Before we continue, I would like to assure you that this applies to the anime and not to the manga, which I found to be fairly enjoyable by comparison and much more competently written).

That's Soul Eater, but what about NOT, the actual focus of this review. It's a weird little series this: smaller in both scale and length, but a lot deeper and much more impactful. It asserts both subtext and context in a manner that the original lacked, and does so without adopting a needlessly pretentious tone tailored to disguise the flatness of the overall experience. Soul Eater NOT is actually good. It's undeniably fanservice for viewers of the original, but it's a good kind of fanservice that adds more to existing plot threads and builds upon the established universe. It explores backstories not seen in SE and outlines aspects of the established setting in greater detail, helping to construct a world that feels much more vivid and engaging. In exploring the pasts of original characters, it fleshes them out further and makes them infinitely more memorable. Rare appearances from the main teams of SE are welcome, particularly in Maka's case because she actually has a role in our protagonist's development. Still fanservice in the end, but not JUST fanservice.

NOT also manages to establish a clear subtext and overarching message about the importance of hard work, friendship and determination (cheesy stuff, but nonetheless effective for it). It does this through actual characterisation that links in strongly to the themes, as well as an appropriate balance of upbeat humour and long-term suspense. Some may find Tsugumi's concerns about her physical fitness much more trivial than the concerns of the protagonists of the original, but given the predominantly teenage audience this is a much more relatable character trait. The protagonists are all endearingly quirky without being archetypes of quirkiness. We come to enjoy the fun times that we spend with them, and we find ourselves concerned for their well-being when danger arises, and thanks to our emotional investment in not just their existence but their own personal struggles, the essential message shines even stronger. The protagonists are relatable; because of that, we worry when things go wrong and we are relieved when they go well. That is the essence of emotional response to film.

Let's step away from the positive for now and think about the negatives a little, for Soul Eater NOT is far from perfect. I suppose animation is the big one: we're lucky enough to have been born in a decade where high-quality animation is the norm, and so it stands out when a show hasn't received a good treatment. The aesthetic itself isn't bad and the character designs complement the upbeat tone well. The issue is that NOT"s movements are very clunky; character models are inconsistent and at worst can seem blocky and ugly. The problems show the most in the fight scenes, when the actual detailed movements don't feel as smooth as they potentially could've been and the camera stays very fixed, detracting somewhat from the sense of spectacle that would otherwise enhance the cinematic experience. One suspects that Soul Eater NOT didn't get the budget it really deserved.

At other times, some of the characters do end up feeling like they're left by the wayside a bit. Our protagonists - Tsugumi, Anya and Meme - are fleshed out fairly well, but the series does have a bad habit of establishing characters who have only brief roles and treating them as if they are significant. The villain is your average "embodiment of evil", the bread-and-butter of the Soul Eater animated universe. The story actually does give some engaging backstory to characters that the original series forgot to explore (which is nice), and these characters do end up having strong overarching presences, but one does wonder whether they should've simply been explored in depth as part of the original itself (though obviously, this isn't NOT's issue).

To finalise:
+Simple but effective overarching themes.
+Strong development in core characters, who are all relatable and endearing.
+Builds upon the established context and creates a more vividly real setting.
+A much more appropriate tone than the original.
+NOT actually incorporates the first major protagonist death in the animated franchise.
-Mediocre animation.
-Arbitrary side characters.

All-in-all, Soul Eater NOT is good. It deserves your time if you've seen the original series, but don't bother to power your way through the original simply for NOT's sake. It doesn't have a standalone existence, but is a much stronger contribution to the franchise than its big brother.

There is a recurring issue with many slice-of-life shows that predominantly feature comedy: a tendency to neglect clear development in the narrative. The result of this lack of plot progression is that the humour soon becomes repetitive and events that take place can become almost painfully predictable, particularly if this show focuses on a smaller cast of characters, or even a single character (yes WataMote, I am talking to you). Static characters and predictable gags are the bane of comedy, while surprise, suspense, anticipation and variation are the sugar that can make it oh-so-sweet.

Taking these factors into account, it is evident that Servant x Service ... is probably one of the best comedy anime of recent years, and one of the few I can work up the enthusiasm to follow on a weekly basis (unlike most other comedies of the Summer 2013 season, which, except WataMote, I dropped almost immediately). With a solid cast of simple, likeable characters with quirky personalities, this show is possibly one of the best ways to kill a few hours.

The episodes are typically split into 2 segments, each one depicting a smaller subplot, while also keeping the overarching narrative intact and ensuring genuine development (which is most evident in the primary "Lucy x Hasebe" romance and secondary "Chihaya x Ichimiya" subplot). This, along with the large cast, ensures that the humour is surprising and unpredictable. By telegraphing future plot points (known in film and TV as "planting causes for future effects"), a sense of anticipation develops that keeps you watching, as you find yourself keen to see how events will pan out. This is all a perfect example of how comedy in any medium is done.

Aesthetically, there isn't much to report. We have a largely conventional (but acceptable) art style, which flows well and ensures that character models are consistent and easy to watch. The opening is catchy, but it isn't a fine example of music, and the ending's a pretty easy-going and pleasant track. Voice acting is good (though we do get to hear Taketatsu Ayana as a tsundere-imouto, which has now been done about as many times as the sun setting in the evening, though I suspect this was deliberate).

So in the end, the otherwise mediocre Summer 2013 season produced a gem in an unlikely genre, as the oft-muddied comedy conventions get a well deserved polish. I can rarely claim to enjoy straight-comedies, but this is probably my favourite show of the past few years.

What's the worst medium to adapt into anime? There are, of course, good, average and bad examples of every form of adaptation, but it seems to me (and you may or may not agree with me) that for the most part, light novel adaptations are the ones that seem to fail most often. I'm talking stuff like To Aru Majutsu no Index, Date A Live, Sword Art Online and, most recently, the subject of this review, Kamisama no Inai Nichiyoubi. Let me just state that this rule is not, of course, universal. Simply general.

Why is this? Why do LN adaptations seem to struggle? My suspicion ... rests on the structure of the source material: the one-book, one-subplot, one-climax system that works well for a series of small novels. However, in the case of anime adaptations, a strict adherence to the source material renders the format of the show predictable and, particularly in the case of shorter series with less time to explore the available material, the story arcs rushed and contrived. Without some alteration to the pacing and structure of the story (see Durarara), light novel adaptations will forever fail to achieve greatness.

So what of Kamisama no Inai Nichiyoubi, the anime that I've already spent 2 paragraphs not reviewing yet? Well, I'm afraid to say that despite some nice ideas, impressive atmosphere and brilliant production standards, this series is arguably one of the LN Adaptations greatest casualties. Now I've not read the source material, but I suspect that it handles the story much more effectively. That's because in the course of 12 episodes, Kamisama no Inai Nichiyoubi somehow manages to rush through 5 arcs with a lot of implied complexity, while simultaneously failing to establish any kind of direction, interconnectivity or explanation. The result is a story that entirely fails to satisfy, particularly when you consider that a couple of the arcs (the first in particular) could last 12 episodes by themselves with enough thought. But no, we get 5 poorly explained, rushed and entirely inconsequential arcs when one well-developed arc with sufficient complexity would've suited the show better.

Not that KnIN (abbreviated name ftw) is entirely without the foundations of a good series. In fact, the show has so many good ideas that it simply serves to make it more disappointing that they are handled so poorly. We've got characters that are engaging (with the exception of the lead, whose character development begins and ends with "cute loli"), but for the most part they are underused and completely unconnected to whatever central story arc that this show was trying to create. There's a total lack of significance placed on some interesting character conflicts. Likewise, the story has some fantastic fantasy elements focusing on a potentially complex and well-conceived world, but these devices and ideas are never fully explored. Witches? Immortal killers? Cities of the dead? Time loops? Great ideas, but hideously flawed in their execution. I understand that the show is taking the Angel Beats approach of remaining ambiguous with regard to its metaphysical elements, but there's an art to that, in that you actually have to explore elements that you're remaining ambiguous about that provides enough info for us to construct some theories, and KnIN doesn't.

OK, the show has some effective emotive scenes: 2 to be precise, and the Julie/Scar romance subplot could've carried a show by itself instead of being sidelined like it was. But in the case of the 2 high-impact emotional scenes, the "feelz" are pretty cheap and dependant on the mood established by the technical elements, rather than any strong relation or connection with events. In fact, in the case of the first example, we don't even get time to feel any kind of emotional connection because the arc is so rushed. Characters established, relationship suddenly present and then climax. No time to build any real empathetic response. And in the second example, the events over which we cry are instantly reversed. Y'know, the old Tasogare Otome x Amnesia, Kanon 2006 "you-thought-they-were-dead-and-cried-over-it-but-they-aren't-really" trick.

I believe I just mentioned the technical aspects of the series, and I guess it's safe to say that they are incredibly well produced, but at the same time we've come to expect that from recent releases to the point where high-quality animation is pretty much par-for-the-course. This isn't the early-2000s any more; basically every show gets good animation nowadays. Animation's smooth, character models are consistent and designs are nice to look at. The "lighting" effects are probably the highlight of KnIN's aesthetic, as they do manage to lend a relatively awe-inspiring warmth to a fantastic world. The sound is also very effective in establishing the mood, whether the scene be sad, happy or mystical in nature. Some very nice tracks playing the background, and a fairly good (but not fantastic) OP/ED sequence set.

So what do I have to say in conclusion? Put simply, KnIN is a beautifully-conceived disappointment. It's a show with so many nice ideas, but it's been rung out and compacted so much that it feels a bit too dry. Mediocre, cheap emotion rather than any kind of relateable character conflicts, with the more interesting supporting cast ultimately being sidelined to a static little girl. It never goes anywhere, never does anything and never seems to make a point, and far from being the profound masterpiece that it thinks it is, it's simply pretentious. Yeah, that's the right word.

Popular anime very rarely receive balanced reviews, which is a shame, because they often set themselves up for a balanced judgement. You either get people worshipping the ground that it would walk on if it hypothetically grew legs and start walking, or people throwing so much crap at it that it becomes in serious need of a shower. Shingeki no Kyojin is no different in this regard, but almost uniquely among recent mainstream titles it's actually deserving of much of the praise it gets. Don't get me wrong, you can still expect a balanced review here. This certainly isn't the life-changing and complex masterpiece that ... many people will promise you, but neither is it as shallow and bland as a lot of shounen anime prove to be.

When examining the story, it's best to get the flaws out of the way first. Shingeki no Kyojin is predictable. Very predictable. In fact, the final 2 arcs hinge upon an important mystery element, and if you haven't worked out the big twist almost immediately, then you must have already kissed your braincells goodbye. It certainly does have surprising elements, but when the progression of the plot becomes dependant upon a major story twist it starts to become a little obvious how things will turn out. A second key issue that the series suffers from is a lack of engagement around the mid-point. I'm talking about the "Battle for Trost" arc, when I simply found that I no longer felt emotionally invested in the story, nor did I particularly care about the conflicts of the characters. One suspects that this is a side effect of the conversion from manga to anime (though I can't be sure, as I have not read the manga). Shingeki no Kyojin tends to place a lot of dramatic flare on events but the action and development that take place in this arc were perhaps not entirely suited to the impactive stylistic elements that we witness, and it all starts to feel a tad inane.

Now, it's important to note my use of the phrase "impactive stylistic elements," because when I say that Shingeki no Kyojin has dramatic impact, I mean it. It might not be the most amazingly well-written anime in history, but it certainly ranks among the most absorbing as well as the most intense. It builds a rich and complex world with an interesting society and carefully crafted history. We see the structure of the military, the social class system and the lives and attitudes of various demographics clearly laid out before us even when they are not necessarily integral to the plot. It makes it believable, and that makes it absorbing, and this in turn can make it both gripping and powerful. When the action hits it's a cathartic experience, riddled with brutal violence alongside the typical OTT flash of the shounen genre. It looks good and it hits hard. When it slows down to prioritise drama, it generally feels personal and relevant (with the finest example being the finale of the "Expedition" arc). The characters do feel a little static unfortunately, but there's some nice development thrown in that hinges upon decent character conflicts and interesting backstories. At times however, it becomes apparent that several characters are forgotten throughout the course of the story, though it is entirely possible that a continuation will expand upon these unfortunate victims of limited season length.

Highly stylised while still showcasing normal anime conventions, the art and animation are entirely deserving of all the praise they get. The animation has weight and the aesthetic is effective and unusual. At times, and most often when the show slows down, inconsistent character models become noticeable, but not to any concerning degree. And if we're talking sounds, then it's damned close to perfect. Fantastic musical score and great voice acting. Whatever you think of the story, you'd be wrong to call Shingeki no Kyojin anything other than a technical masterpiece.

Not much else to say, so I'll leave you with this closing statement: watch it. Even if, like me, you tend to adopt the attitude that because many people lack critical judgement it means that most mainstream anime aren't as good as popular opinion might imply, at least be open-minded enough to appreciate the possibility that, just this once, the majority may be right.

Much like the creator of this little gold nugget, I'll be keeping this review short, but sweet.

Aside from Ryo, which I can't seem to find anywhere (if you happen to know a site, a link would be very helpful), I've seen all of the Anime Mirai 2013 films. All 4 are about half-an-hour long, so they're pretty concise with their story. Death Billiards is pretty good, but it feels a bit pretentious, shoving a little philosophical question down your throat but not really making you think that much. Arve Rezzle feels like the pilot to a full series, and as such offers very little closure, ... but it has some nice ideas, even if those are undermined slightly by some rather half-baked characterisation and poorly executed exposition.

I'm giving my little mini reviews to the other episodes simply to give my review of Little Witch Academia some context. As someone with a rather cold demeanour, and who typically enjoys a dark thriller or gore-heavy action series, it may come across as somewhat surprising when I say that LWA is my favourite of the three. It's almost Disney-esque, with genuinely loveable and quirky characters, a strong and functional, if not particularly complex, story and a completely uplifting tone. The humour is solid and hits you enough to make even the most stoic individual smile a bit. The animation is brilliant, with the art differing just enough from the conventions of the Japanese style to make me completely fall in love with it. Voice-acting is probably my primary gripe, but it's not so bad that it distracts from the episode. It's fun, and reminds me of why I need to be less tolerant of those angsty action-thrillers like Arve Rezzle that seem to make up the meat of today's anime industry.

LWA is like Shrek. Far from being childish, this little gem is fun for everyone (though it doesn't share Shrek's gleeful love for sexual innuendo). Even if, like me, you've grown into an emotionally-jaded, highly critical badass, you may just find that Little Witch Academia has enough substance and upbeat tone to penetrate your doughy cynicism and really cheer you up.

I would genuinely rather they made a full series of this than Arve Rezzle.

Robotics;Notes is the kind of anime that I have to force myself to review. The truth is, I like it. I really like it. That's why it has a 6 and not a lower score: because for all its flaws, it is remarkably enjoyable.

But this is a review, isn't it? I can't just harp on about how fun it is without pointing out how horrifically flawed it is. The primary issues that Robotics;Notes experiences is this:
a) It isn't as intelligent as it thinks it is.
b) It tries to do too much.

I'll begin by clarifying that second point. Picture an anime akin to The Melancholy of ... Haruhi Suzumiya: a sci-fi re-imagining of a typical romantic comedy, some decent characters, good comedy and the potential for some seriousness mixed in there. Then take a show like Steins;Gate (which I have yet to watch): a hyper-intelligent sci-fi thriller with a serious tone. Robotics;Notes wants to be both of these. But the result is rather like mixing vodka and lager together: they can be pretty enjoyable on their own, but the mixing of the two just doesn't seem to work. I can't escape the thought that had the creators decided to make either a sci-fi rom-com OR a sci-fi thriller, then the result would've been fantastic. But Rob;Not tends to flicker schizophrenically between light-hearted comedy/drama and serious psychological mystery while keeping the two largely disconnected. Characters like Subaru and Junna are completely irrelevant to the thriller elements of the series, and they shouldn't have been. There's a tendency to develop a likeable character (Kona is the most notable victim of this) and then render them completely unimportant to the plot after their arc is finished. And it's a shame, 'cos Kona in particular was a very good character. If the show had chosen to be a rom-com, then Rob;Not would've been able to provide a tighter character focus without making seemingly important characters seem arbitrary.

Now to clarify point (a). The issue that Rob;Not has (which can also be seen in its sister-anime Chaos;Head) is that it just isn't as intelligent as it thinks it is. Convenience writing is not a sign of an intelligent series. But Rob;Not has a tendency of coming up with convenient plot devices (the monopoles, Kai's slow-motion ability, the links between the bad guys and an anime production company) and then establishing a weak explanation in order to make these points seem important. I'm going to have to venture into spoiler territory here, so I apologise. Why, if the villain is planning to destroy the world, does he bring attention to his plan by creating hidden files? And why can the main character conveniently locate these files? Why are the monopoles falling from the sky? What did they hope to achieve on the SS Anemone? What role does Airi play in any of it? Rob;Not seems to be under the impression that in order to be an intelligent thriller, it has to include as much non-existent sci-fi stuff as possible, but that isn't the case. A decent twist without such obvious and poorly-justified convenience writing would've been much more intelligent, even if they'd had to ditch many of the sci-fi plot devices. There's an assortment of blatant plot holes on show with almost no justification beyond lazy writing. Everything the villain does seems to give the main character more and more power that he can use to bring an end to the evil plan. There's no realistic psychology on display.

Thinking about it, Rob:Not may have been better off as a rom-com, 'cos that seems to be what it does best. The characters are actually quite likeable at times (Kona and Airi being my personal favourites) and the show is at its best when it focuses on the relationships between them all. Despite being the primary element of the series, the thriller aspect just seems to get in the way of an enjoyable twist on school-life drama. That said, there are effective thriller moments, with the highlight being an almost disturbingly graphic death scene in episode 16 that still seemed completely unnecessary. It can be dramatic and fun, but not effectively serious, and so a lot of potential is lost.