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Jin Mochizuki’s previous work, Pandora Hearts, was a near flawless piece of fiction, so my expectations for her follow-up work were high. Were my expectations satisfied? Yes and no.

The aesthetics are a giveaway it’s a work by the same author. Just as Pandora Hearts, the visual direction of Vanitas no Carte is classically beautiful. Set in a glorified Belle Époque Paris, with a striking cast dressed in aristocratic fashion.

You can also tell it’s the same writer by the complexity of the plot. There way too many morally grey factions and subplots to summarize in few sentences … but I’ll try.

There’s flamboyant main hero Vanitas, who ... saves vampires from a curse, which causes them to lose their minds and run berserk. The exact nature of said curse, inflicted by a shadow dubbed “Charlatan”, remains a mystery. Futhermore: Vanitas, self-absorbed and cunning as he is, is hiding why he’s hell-bent on saving vampires in the first place; when Vanitas is a human, a race at odds with vampires. His motivation can be back to another man … a vampire also named Vanitas, the original bearer of Vanitas’ curse-healing grimoire. So far, so complicated.
Deuteragonist Noé is good-natured vampire that joins Vanitas’ cause of healing vampires early on. While functioning as a mere sidekick at times, he retains his own important relationships and plot lines. There are certain vampires who, unlike Noé, are openly hostile towards humans and wish to rekindle the war between races. Oh, and there’s also something wrong with the queen of all vampires. And Noé’s mentor is an extremely shady character (who isn’t, in this show?). And there’s active vampire hunters amongst humans aligned with the Catholic Church, and …

Yeah, as I said: the setting is complex, carried by withheld information and grey morality. Season 2 further ups the complexity of the conflict, as three factions (Vanitas and Noé, vampires, the Church) hunt after a wolf-like beast, which is alledgedly responsible for many civilian deaths. Needless to say, the allegiance and identity of the wolf-life beast also starts out as a big mystery … sigh.

The characters are a strong point of Vanitas no Carte. Mochizuki knows how to write characters: they’re all conflicted, vulnerable, mysterious, acting one way on the outside and feeling another way deep inside. No single character is one-note, everyone has several layers of emotion.

Vanitas no Carte also heavily relies on character dynamics. The two male leads remain in a tsundere relationship, making the show appear like Yaoi bait. But surprisingly, we also get lots of *hetero*sexual action early on. As Vanitas meets female vampire Jeanne, the two just can’t keep their hands (and mouths … and bodies …) off each other for long. It’s a refreshing and fun relationship to watch: mostly based on lust, yet not deprived of psychological depth, as both are broken people. Even side characters get treated to meaningful relationships which illustrate why they’re acting the way they do. Almost everyone is sympathetic to some degree.

So, what could possibly hold Vanitas no Carte, a story with immersive visuals and brilliant characterization, back? Well, there are some issues.

For starters, the complexity of the story I mentioned several times. At times, the plot is more convoluted and directionless than it is rewarding. The very fact Vanitas constantly fights the very vampires he’s wishing to save, the fact it’s never made clear what exactly he’s saving them from, or why he’s even doing it … makes for a confusing read, at times. The forces moving the plot forward remain shadowy and undefined and so does the plot itself. The power scale and magical system remain mostly vague as well, so battles feel superficial. Chibi-style comedy is forced into scenes it doesn’t quite fit in.

Despite these fundamental drawbacks, Vanitas no Carte is still a work I sympathize with. I simply don’t find it as flawless as Pandora Hearts was.

The final season of Shingeki no Kyojin manages to squander most of the potential and promise the series once held.

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

See, there's nothing wrong with a complete shift within a long story, per say. But for the shift to be justified, the new story has to be better than the one that came before. Absolutely not the case with the final seasons of Shingeki no Kyojin. They throw the initial premises out of the window, replacing it with a weaker story.

Season four introduces a radical shift in the motivations of the main character and all factions. Not only is it tone-deaf and barely ... explained, it also deprives many other characters of their purpose and character arcs. The main cast gets senselessly buried under what’s essentially a new, weaker story:

The main culprit is Eren. He transforms overnight: from a bright-eyed shonen lead with a justified hatred towards titans - into shonen Hitler incarnate worshipping the titan race. A transformation explained by the new lore, but never explained psychologically. Erens 180 degree turn comes out of nowhere, erasing the old Eren and replacing him with his opposite. This isn’t character development. This is character assassination.

Mikasa's special, overprotective relationship with Eren? Ceases to be, as Eren is another man at this point, dismissive and abusive towards his former friends. Deprived of the meaningful relationship at the core of her characterization, Mikasa is reduced to a static and bland character, with little to say or do. Similarly, Armin can no longer use his smarts or empathy for the sake of his best friend, becoming a pointless character.

Historia? What is she even doing anymore? (Is pregnancy the authors’ idea of fulfilling female character development?) Historia’s sidelining is telling: the Queen of Paradis doesn’t matter anymore. Since the kingdom of Paradis and politics within is walls don’t matter anymore. Paradis simply gets left behind by the narrative.

But even the empire of Marley, built up as antagonist, barely matters in the final arcs. Marley's new characters, politics and military personnel don't matter. Why? Because the final antagonist story turns out to be neither the the titans, nor Marley, but … Eren's nonsensical genocide plot. This is just sloppy and messy writing.

I could go on endlessly about other characters and plot points becoming unrecognizable. My point stands: due to a radical shift in location, story and factions, old characters become deprived of their established meaning and goals, now acting in the emotional vacuum of a completely new story: edgelord Eren fighting racism with even more racism. A story that has little to do with the previously established stakes. A story that would’ve been fine as standalone, but completely fails to re-connect to where Shingeki no Kyojin started out: an engaging cast fighting for survival against titans in a meatgrinder setting, while uncovering their secrets.

I stopped recognizing the same Mikasa, Reiner, Levi and Armin anymore, even as they still bear the same names and carry the same weapons. That’s the price the show pays, for abandoning or replacing 60% of its premise.

So ... does the questionable writing render the final seasons of Shingeki no Kyojin unwatchable? Not really. At least, some of the merits of the initial setting are still present. The story of Shingeki no Kyojin 2.0, while far inferior to the original one, still isn’t bad. The visual direction is still great, the animation this time around as well. (However, the soundtrack is middling and used to be better in previous seasons, for my tastes.) We still get gory battles between humans in special gear and shape-shifting titans, in grander scale than ever before. They’re still cool to look at.

For most intents and purposes, the final seasons reduce Shingeki no Kyojin to a generic blockbuster apocalypse action flick. For me, that's a disappointing finale. Shingeki no Kyojin is a show that used to be much greater. Not through visual effects alone (they just were the cherry on the top), but by virtue of complelling drama, plot twists and the enthralling mysteries behind the titans.

Shingeki no Kyojin entered a downward spiral following the amazing season 3 and ends in a disappointing, anticlimactic fashion. Long live Shingeki no Kyojin.

There are many dumb sci-fi shows out there, pretending to be smart. Ghost in a Shell: SAC is a smart show knowing it's smart.

The worst sin a sci-fi show may commit overindulging in "technobabble": introducing technological concepts for the sake of it. Pseudoscientific concepts that may sound engaging, yet often stay vague and undefined, causing more frustration and alienation than enjoyment.

Ghost in a Shell: SAC avoids said mistake. Every technological novelty brought to the table is absolutely essential and explored throughout the anime. Prosthetic bodies and cybernetic implants? Essential to the psychology of all acting characters. Cyberbrain sclerosis? Essential to the plot. The concept ... of hacking cyberbrains? Essential to the plot.

What Ghost in a Shell: SAC portrays is a believable future. Technology has evolved far beyond the present and enables grand things. But society, economics and politics stay mostly the same, still caught in the same day-to-day corruption and pettiness. To some degree, you could say, humanity is overburdened with it own technological progress. 'Cyberbrain sclerosis', the gradual degradation of artificial organs, has become a major issue. Politics has no clear answer to it. The scramble of pharma corporations for a cure becomes part of the plot. So do their corruption and greed: they've never anywhere, just gone digital and cybernetic.

The world of Ghost in a Shell: SAC isn't merely a one-dimensional, grimdark dystopia that many dumber science fiction works portray. The futuristic, isolated Japan portayed is not a bad country per say: there's fun and fascination to be found in it. Most people live decent lives, using technology for their enjoyment.

Nonetheless, technological progress causes just as many new issues as it solved. Humanity 2.0 is haunted by digital Threats-to-Humanity 2.0. That's where our heroes jump in -- Security Section 9, tasked with investigating cybercrime.

The main characters are Major Kusanagi, a bold and capable female investigator with a fully prosthetic body and her slightly brutish second-in-command Batou. Chasing the anonymous hacker 'Laughing Man', they ultimately uncover a far greater conspiracy. Half of the episodes are standalone stories, further fleshing out the characters of Section 9 and expanding upon the already impressive worldbuilding.

Ghost in a Shell: SAC is well-written enough to namedrop its fancy title ('Stand Alone Complex'), all without sounding ridiculous. A Stand Alone Complex is what ultimately resolves its convoluted, yet fascinating main story. For this artistic achievement alone - elevating an abstract concept to a major plot point - Ghost in a Shell: SAC deserves high praise.

But the good doesn't end here. Ghost in a Shell: SAC also comes with memorable, endearing visuals. The writing and atmosphere come together to create something great: one of the best and most thought-provoking works of science fiction I've seen, leaving me excited for the second cour.

Jujutsu Kaisen has the makings of something greater, yet falls back into the limitations of a battle shonen being a far too often.

The introduction reads like a mixture of popular battle shonen titles, thrown into a blender. Main hero Yuji is a generic high schooler, wishing to help other people. By accident, he turns into the host of an extremely powerful demonic curse, Sukuna. The edgy, yet good-natured Megumi saves Yuji. Joined by the token female teammate Nobara, they end up under laid-back, white-haired sensei Gojo in Tokyo Jujutsu High, where they train as sorcerers to exterminate evil curses.

Does this initial set-up sound ... generic and derivative? At first glance, extremely so. If you read shonen, you've already read part of this before somewhere.

However, Jujutsu Kaisen ultimately isn't generic at all. The manga throws many unexpected elements into the mix. This continues to be Jujutsu Kaisens greatest strength throughout its whole story: it's surprisingly creative, surprisingly fresh in ways other battle shonens don't dare to be.

First, Gojo isn't just more powerful than his pupils: he's absurdly, world-breakingly powerful. Antagonists constantly have to work around Gojo, which remains a major plot point.
Second, we get impactful character deaths: sympathetic characters aren't immune to being killed off for good, if they overreach themselves.
Third, add actual character development: even side characters will go through some personal arc related to the story.

What's also praiseworthy is how the plot of Jujutsu Kaisen twists and turns. Just give it some time to unfold. The actions of the antagonists, intertwining with multiple subplots, lead to a truly wild ride. Both the main objective of our heroes and the composition of the "good guy" party vary from arc to arc.

Doesn't sound half-bad? Definitely keeps Jujutsu Kaisen engaging enough to keep reading. Nonetheless, at its core, it's a battle shonen and suffers from most drawbacks inherent to the genre. Yuji is a frustratingly boring character, given his bland characterization and relationships. Battles between secondary characters often aren't all that engaging, yet occupy a fair amount chapters.

There's also a major subjective flaw: I dislike the artstyle. It borders on ugly in some panels for me. Characters that are supposed to look attractive in-universe look plain and average for manga standards. Battles will look messy, attacks oftentimes lack visual impact.

The designs of many major characters appear outright weak and unimaginative. Do you ever feel visually threatened by all those demonic curses hell-bent on destroying humanity? Yeah, me neither, as most of them just look like clowns ... or trees. Or octopuses.

So there you have it. A manga that's surprisingly innovative and daring at times, yet remains an ultimately flawed battle shonen: Jujutsu Kaisen is mediocrity with potential.

Kubera is the story you've always wanted to read, without ever knowing about its existence. It may be the best work of fiction you'll ever read.

The best love story, the most complex time travel plot, the best revenge story, the best good-versus-bad-fight, the best self-made high fantasy world, the best character study -- Kubera may be all of these, as it tells the story of an entire fictional universe, from start to finish, in intricate detail.

Kubera starts deceptively simple, then builds up into dozens of subplots, all of which have implications for the greater picture. The village of unassuming heroine Kubera Leez, partly named after ... earth god Kubera (names are *extremely* important to the plot), is eradicated by two overwhelmingly powerful demons. Mysterious magician Asha saves her - and only her - just in time and becomes her guide into the world of magic, kickstarting what seems to be a typical story of revenge.

But, boy, does it all get *very* complicated in the best possible fashion, very fast. As not a single one of the seemingly basic ingredients - the heroine, her teacher, the antagonistic demons, the benevolent gods - of a seemingly straightforward revenge story are remotely what they appear to be at first glance.

The two demons main characters themselves, are on a journey which drives the entire larger-scale plot: genocide every human with the name "Kubera", so the mysterious earth god Kubera (arguably, another protagonist of the series) regains enough power to resurrect the sura Ananta: a powerful being crucial for the state of all things in various, gradually unveilled ways. Leez and Asha are ultimately pawns in the ambitions of gods and sura to reshape the fate of a masterfully constructed, ambiguous universe.

To even catch a glimpse of the bigger picture, you need to read past the entire first two seasons, which establishes the world filled with magicians, gods and demons. It introduces various intriguing side characters, but mostly deals with the smaller scale of heroine Kubera and her mentor Asha. The main plot builds up towards the arguably most shocking villain reveal I ever read, as a figure deemed very sympathetic is unveilled to be an unsalvageable monster, responsible for every single grievance faced by the heroine. I'm at loss for words for how well-executed and brutal said reveal is.

Kubera would be great if it ended here, yet decides to be fantastic instead: season three then dissolves into the larger narrative, a handful of interwoven plotlines with almost hundred characters. Many of said plotlines would suffice to fill a webtoon spin-off of their own.

The writing is unbelieavably complex and positively labyrinthian, including godly foreshadowing. Remember that item referenced in two panels 400 chapters ago? Yeah, that's of critical importance and will become the topic of its own mini-arc. Every single glance, utterance and relation has a meaning that'll gradually be unveiled. Kubera can spend several drawn-out chapters highlighting relationsships between secondary characters and not feel boring for a second.

It's difficult to find a single flaw in this webtoon.
The wordbuilding, loosely based on Indian mythology? Original and stellar.
The art? Starts out far from impressive, but increasingly improves into a colorful, detailed, mystyfying experience.
The characters, be it humans or fantasy beings? Both profound and nuanced at once.
The plot? Encompasses everything that happened in a fictional universe from its very creation.

I realize I am fawning at this point, but that's really been my impression from the beginning. Kubera is the story you've always wanted to read, if you're truly into high fantasy fiction. It's just *that* outstanding, tasteful and rewarding for attentive readers, bordering on unsurpassable once it gets going.