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Steins;Gate is one of the most beloved anime of all time, with a fantastic main cast of characters, a gripping story and incredibly memorable scenes scattered across the series - so beloved that it spawned an entire franchise that continues to produce new spinoffs and side stories to this day.

I'll mildly allude to events in the series - because I do think they're necessary to explain anything about the story - but will avoid spoilers to the best of my ability.

It's one of my favorite anime of all time as well, but there's components to it that I don't think are as heavily lauded as ... they should be. There are things to dissect about Steins;Gate that I think are easy to point to - the necessity of acknowledging the past for what it is and not change it as well as human connection and its necessity to break out of the isolation that pain brings with it. That said, there's other things that I think also complete what Steins;Gate is as a story beyond its technical elements - the story's well-written (though some of the writing around a certain character does come off as a bit dated and weak, vegetables is all I'll say) and follows its own time-travel rules incredibly well, it's well animated, well directed, has an incredible soundtrack and some of the best voice-acting in the industry - Mamoru Miyano as Okabe is forever one of the best roles in anything ever. All of that is valid, but my main reason for loving Steins;Gate as much as I do is its personability.

Fundamentally, Steins;Gate is a story about memory and recontextualizing it. It's a story that lives off its main cast looking at memories of the past and choosing to reunderstand what it means to them rather than change it entirely, becoming a story about changing someone's perception of the past to mirror where you are in the present, and where you'll go in the future. This is communicated both through the series's setting in a technologically forever innovating center of otaku culture in Akihabara - a conscious choice due to said culture being correctly associated with rampant escapism, but the series also shows it and its influenced internet culture as an avenue for interconnectivity and connection. The series in a cautiously positive approach to that element of the subculture, while chastising its more sinister elements - we see this through Moeka's codependency on phone communication especially.

This extends to everything in the story, really, but there's an undertone of permanent loss as the story goes on - that the mere act of living in and of itself is an act of losing something in the past and present, but one that also prevents people from establishing connections or even maintaining those people in their lives at all. We see this in the second half especially, but the underpinning is clear; accepting and recontextualizing the past is a necessity, else you'll lose things in the present and miss out on things in the future. It's part of why the story constantly has characters often sitting in silence as they awkwardly want to get closer to one another but draw a clear line as to how much closer, or has characters understand and reunderstand how things used to be and their meaning to the person in question now. Steins;Gate is a story that lives and thrives on this constructivist understanding of the world, that living is an act of understanding and reunderstanding the world around us and where we are in it to ourselves and the people around us - and that any attempt to break either of those or both away from us will inevitably lead to a literal dead end.

The relationship between the main trio is central to this all - Okabe's relationship with Mayuri as a symbol of the past's apparent innocence and naivete, with the Hououin Kyouma persona as the barrier between himself and others, and Kurisu as that of the more broken present and future, uncertain where she exists and why but persisting onwards regardless, continuing to try and evolve and change despite the isolation and pain. This gives the final stretch of the series a more personable feeling, one where Okabe accepts the volatility of the future, but chooses to move forward anyway - the fact Kurisu and Okabe's dynamic is the best in the series due to the two's fantastic chemistry together and how they develop and progress as characters as the series goes on is the final glue that brings the whole series to work as well as it does.

Steins;Gate is an amazing story because it is at once cohesive and at the other infinitely human, relatable and intimate. It's a timeless anime classic that has only aged like fine wine and will never ever not be relevant as a story to what people were, are and will continue to be.

That, too, was the choice of Steins;Gate.

Thank you for reading my review, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

Adaptations are difficult to translate from medium to medium, and this is perhaps best exemplified with Otonari, a series reliant on small day to day interactions, character subtlety and perhaps most importantly, the bridging of its two main characters with a strong emphasis on the passage of time and their increased comfort with one another. The light novels largely are told in a semi-episodic format, telling of Amane and Mahiru’s lives together with those emphases in mind, and Project No. 9 don’t do too bad of a job bringing that to life…albeit with some nuances that make it not quite as touching as its light ... novel counterpart.

Otonari at its heart is a story about Amane and Mahiru awkwardly getting together and reconciling how broken they are by opening up to one another – it’s a series that understands on a fundamental level how being wounded can irreversibly change you, but that life is about reconciling that sense of injury with, well, leaning on other people instead of limping off on your own. The opening scene to their relationship is indicative of exactly that – Amane doesn’t let Mahiru suffer alone and drench herself, instead offering her an umbrella, and she reconciles by refusing to let him suffer alone, cleaning his cluttered, dirty apartment and helping him clean it.

A lot of Otonari’s best early moments are specifically in seeing how both characters want to get closer to one another, but are unable to without pushes from Itsuki and Chitose (and later on, Yuuta) – this extends to both characters (especially Amane) coming off at times as if they’re outright terrified of physical intimacy, and is an incredibly accurate depiction of what happens to people who had suffered emotional abuse – the climax to episode 7 (volume 2 in the light novels) is a rewarding moment where things irreversibly change, as Mahiru is forced to accept that her mask is a coping mechanism for something she can’t obtain and change for the better by discarding it slowly for the rest of the series.

Mahiru and Amane’s relationship is a joy from start to finish – his apathy is contrasted with her increased perseverance in breaking him out of his shell, but Amane’s also observant, cool-headed and natural when it comes to others and this helps with helping her open up; the dynamic is reversed as Mahiru grows increasingly confident and assertive in what she wants out of her relationship with him, while Amane also improves as a person the more he interacts with her – he gains more friends, becomes cleaner, occasionally cooks himself instead of leaving everything to her and is less prickly about other people coming close to him. It’s a healthy back and forth that feels natural and heartwarming to follow, and this is amplified by the things the anime does well that can’t quite be replicated in written format.

Otonari does all of this wonderfully in both mediums, but there needs to be credit to the adaptation where it’s due – a lot of effort is taken to emphasize subtle body psychology or movements and slow shifts in the dialogue and the direction does a good job reflecting this. Credit must also be given to the sound design choices – the soundtrack does a good job reflecting the general comfy mood of the series (even if there’s nothing in the show proper I’d listen to on its own) and especially the two EDs I absolutely adore (both being classic love J-Pop songs with Mahiru’s voice actress singing both for additional cuteness points). The OP, however, is an abomination that is neither a good song nor does it fit the series as a whole, being terribly edited, horribly sung and the song itself is annoying and not reflective of what, well, the series is – I listened to it exactly once and promptly never listened to it again from how absolutely annoying it was. The voice acting is consistently excellent from start to finish, with Mahiru’s Manaka Iwami doing an exceptional job that doesn’t come off as overacted at any point (in sharp contrast to another role she’s doing this very season, which while really good had its fair share of forced lines).

Otonari, however, has issues as an adaptation – the first two volumes happen over the course of around six months, and while many an anime-only will whine about how the existing anime already feels too slow, it skims through much of the small interactions that necessitate communicating how Amane and Mahiru get together – all the major story beats are there, but the feeling of watching the two come together over a long period of time is gone, which is one of the best things about the first four volumes of the light novels. Speaking of that, the adaptation is incredibly compressed – the first seven episodes are paced pretty well, but the issues start piling up once we get to volumes 3 and 4, which is the arc where Mahiru opens up and the dynamic shifts from “two awkward teenagers inching closer” to “two teenagers who are in love, one of them knows it and the other is avoiding it”. The shift in the anime is sudden, and the side characters’ roles in opening up the main duo aren’t emphasized nearly as much as the novels. There are scenes that are incredibly important in the novels that are more or less skipped entirely or exist in slide shows…which bring me to another issue with the adaptation.

The production is rough, and this is a tough pill to swallow – Project No.9 are a studio I associate with good but not outstanding LN adaptations and Otonari is just another case of that. Hanekoto’s illustrations in the LNs are a tough act to follow in terms of expressiveness and colorfulness, but Otonari’s oversimplification of the character designs gets to a point where aside from Mahiru, none of the designs really stick in the viewer’s head – there’s a lot of off-model facial expressions and if I didn’t know better, I’d never assume Yuuta was a major character in the story from the way the visuals present him as looking only slightly more noteworthy than the average nobody. This kind of detracts from a lot of things in Otonari, and while this was never a story that I thought needed amazing production, something closer to how the latter two seasons of Oregairu by studio feel look would’ve been infinitely more fitting than what the series went for. Project No.9 themselves aren’t above better character designs either – Jaku-Chara is a good example of how despite the absurd standard that are Fly’s designs for that series, Project No.9 still managed to convert the designs into looking distinct and expressive.

There’s details that I think the adaptation doesn’t harp on enough – there’s a lot of emphasis on what Amane went through before the story started and how he basically turned into a shut-in from the bullying he endured – instead, this is kind of glossed over in the adaptation. The friendship Amane shares with Itsuki in particular but also Chitose and Yuuta isn’t quite as convincing or fleshed out. The choice to somehow cram two volumes’ worth of content into 5 episodes was a poor one and despite it still digesting well, it isn’t nearly as good as it could’ve been.

Otonari is a good show, a really good one even – but it’s a decent adaptation of an outstanding source material, not something that takes the source of the story it is based on and enhance it. It’s a shame that Otonari will fall to the mold as being “that seasonal romance anime” instead of the powerful story the novels tell – there’s shades of that in the anime (especially in the middle of the show), but I don’t think it’s nearly as memorable. And, well, that’s my biggest issue with it – novels choose to go all the way when most romance series don’t and continue telling the story after Amane and Mahiru are together, while focusing increasingly on the side cast – the anime by comparison chooses to limit its scope, which while understandable for an adaptation makes it impossible for anime-only viewers to see what makes Otonari distinct past a certain point. Compression be damned, this also means that should we ever get a season 2 (albeit highly unlikely considering Project No.9’s track record), the show’ll run into an issue of how exactly to shift gears once we get there when it wasn’t built up in the first season.

So yeah, Otonari is good – really good even as a stand-alone anime – but as an adaptation, it’s just OK. Can I recommend the novels if you want an idea of what I’m talking about? Yen Press has done a marvelous job translating them, and the fanbase are no slouches themselves either when it comes to quality fan-translations if you want to be up to date. I don’t think I can recommend the anime, by comparison, unless you’re an already existing fan of the source material.

Thank you for reading my review, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

This review will casually spoil points about the Trails video game series's overarching narrative, as it does take place at a point when 7 whole games chronologically come out before this anime, with it being a side story of a particular arc (with 2 games happening before the side story, and 2-3 games after it depending on your calculations) that it spoils casually on its own anyway. If you want to ask if Trails as a video game series is worth it, it absolutely is, and I'd implore anyone with the time and commitment to play the games to do so; here's a guide as ... to how if you want to know:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTgepMNxnV0

I'm not responsible for anyone who chooses to read past this point. You've been warned. Onto the review!

Trails is one of the most distinct video game franchises in existence, boasting a long-running narrative across (as of the time of this writing) a dozen games with a continuous story that has been told across almost two decades of time, with character arcs starting at the very first entry continuing onto the latest, fully fleshed out NPCs (who are good characters in their own right) appearing continuously across arcs, actions in one arc having a massive impact on the other(s) in spite of difference in location and a strong emphasis on worldbuilding in a meticulous way that only video games can really do. It's not impossible to adapt Trails into an anime, but it's something that many a fan (myself included) are rightfully skeptical of, especially since the games' core appeal is something that'd be difficult to capture with the anime industry being the way it is, prioritizing short, hard-hitting one cour anime for the most part instead of long-running series like the mecha or mahou shoujo anime of old.

The Northern War anime occupies an interesting place in this, being a side story taking place between the second and third Cold Steel games – it tries to bridge an obvious gap in that arc, which was filled to the brim with various production issues, ranging from a change in who the MC and main antagonist was going to be, two drama CDs that couldn’t have been fit into the games yet are referenced constantly in future games, and more importantly, the invasion of North Ambria, a huge event once the player arrives in Cold Steel 3 that is explained in retrospect but never seen. This in and of itself isn’t a bad idea – the overarching narrative notwithstanding, the Trails games are filled to the brim with interesting events and subplots that could be expanded on or told even if they don’t advance the overarching narrative, and Falcom have been pretty open about the idea of expanding on the world in such a way.

The problem with the Northern War anime is that it has absolutely no idea what makes Trails as a series good; all the ingredients are there, of course, but nothing sticks due to both incompetence and misunderstanding what makes Trails work on a fundamental level. The most important ingredient – the worldbuilding – was always going to be compromised somewhat, but it goes so far that about a third of the show is set in Erebonia, a desperate attempt trying to appeal to existing fans instead of establish a reason why the audience, new and old, should care for North Ambria. There’s an emphasis on heroism but it’s something that Lavi actively seeks, missing the whole point the series makes about its main characters (Estelle, Lloyd and Rean) becoming heroes through their actions, and not because they actively seek heroism.

It’s not like Northern War is particularly convincing about itself even on its own merits; the main cast range from obnoxious and annoying to nothing characters. Lavi is someone who aspires to live up to her grandfather’s legacy and protect the homeland he defended and left behind, but unlike the characters she’s clearly written as a foil to (there’s an entire thing in the Trails games about the obligatory ex-mercenary in the cast of each arc) her characterization comes off as a trope and not as something authentic that was borne out of her circumstances – she’s stoic, but is surrounded by friendly teammates who idolize her even though she treats them like shit, and flip flops between treating them poorly one moment to considering them important to her in a monologue the next. The closest thing to a character moment she obtains is when she becomes explicitly complicit in the lies surrounding her grandfather’s death, but the show still pretends she’s on the path to heroism the literal next episode when she’s fleeing for her safety. She’s less an authentic character and more a vehicle for wherever the fuck the plot wants to go, she’s horribly written and there’s desperate attempts at making her appealing in an episode I can only describe as canonical filler where she stops a bunch of mascot costume wearing lunatics from tossing fireworks at nobles with a bomb being tossed somewhere in there. I’m not joking.

Martin’s the obligatory broken joker of the cast, an archetype the Trails games actually do exceptionally well regardless of arc – there’s nothing to his character beyond the fact he’s traumatized, has killed people and is complicit in the lie surrounding Lavian’s grandfather’s death. Past a certain point he goes to Erebonia and only shows up in scenes with Cold Steel characters, but there’s nothing I can say about him that I can’t say about several characters in the series that hasn’t been done better and infinitely more engaging and interesting – he has no charisma, is unfunny, just fucks off and naps a sizeable amount of the time and has minimal impact on the events of the story. He’s similar in a certain sense to Randy from the Crossbell games, but lacks Randy’s brotherhood with Lloyd and generally affable demeanor which made that character so damn likeable.

Believe it or not, I don’t have much to say about the other two main characters; the most noteworthy thing I ever thought about Talion was annoyance over the fact a strand of his hair kept changing color, scene by scene; his characterization is nigh nonexistent beyond being an awkward shy nice guy minus a scene where he shoots Lavi to get her to safety. As for Iseria, she’s insufferable and basically what happens if you take Musse from CS3/4 and remove any shred of character depth, almost like a flanderized fanfic idea of what Musse is as a character. Her role in the narrative is to bring out what little humanity there is out of Lavi, and the issue is that their dynamic is about as interesting as two white walls in an abandoned building facing each other for centuries.

There’s words I can use for the antagonists of this series within North Ambria, and the words I can use are uninteresting, boring and nonsensical – the idea of following a bunch of military officers, politicians and jaegers as their country is about to disintegrate devolve into infighting and backstabbing one another as the occupying force takes over is a novel one, but poorly done as for much of the side cast, we actually have no fucking idea what their motivations or ideals even are. The closest thing to a character with any shred of depth is Rogan, and I don’t mind seeing him make a pact with the devil deal with Lavi or Ouroboros. The issue is that he, too, has no charisma nor meaningful characterization for much of the series – we’re actually given reasons why he ideologically does what he does, but not much past that, making him feel like a victim of skeleton writing rather than a properly thought out character.

The narrative of the Northern War anime is unsure whether it wants to tell a meaningful story about its cast’s last stand against the inevitable Erebonian invasion or simply dick around and provide nonstop fanservice to the established Trails fanbase – as a result, it accomplishes neither and tells a story that is plain horrible. There’s an absurd amount of nonsense slice of life scenes that exist for no reason other than to take up time – they neither add nor detract from the characters, and the previously mentioned episode where a terrorist clown tries to overthrow the nobility with fireworks is perhaps one of the worst breather episodes I’ve seen in anime period. Action scenes are abysmally animated and devoid of tension while the dialogue is consistently basic at best and at worst, relegated to characters speaking to each other about information they already know for the convenience of the audience – this is not to say that dialogue like this doesn’t exist in the Trails series (I’d dare say that in specific games, CS3 specifically, it becomes kind of grating) but it’s nowhere near as prevalent to the same extent as it is here, as the show does it for the sake of an almost nonexistent audience of newbies. There’s a bizarre emphasis on the threat that is Rean (who mysteriously nobody in North Ambria nor Erebonia knows the identity of even though he’s always uncovered when going into or climbing out of his mech), which drives me insane because at no point is there any such mystery about who Valimar’s pilot is in the games and just about everyone knows Rean’s identity as the pilot come CS2’s epilogue, which this show takes place after.

That brings me to another major issue with Northern War – it retcons information that the Trails games has provided for no reason whatsoever. Altina in a comedy scene with Martin loses it (which at this point she’s nowhere near expressive enough to do), Sara’s backstory is clearly not the same as what CS3 tells us, Rean is acting far too happily for the point of the story we’re in, and random Erebonia characters just flash on screen for no reason other than fanservice to the audience. Things get even worse with characters from other entries showing up – Lloyd and Rixia talk about the events of North Ambria from a database that Rean destroys in CS2’s epilogue, with Lloyd noticeably wearing clothes that are more similar to what he wears from CS3 onwards, and in a photo of the SSS, Wazy is dressed up in how he used to dress up in Zero. Even Estelle and Joshua make an appearance, dressed up in their outfits from CS4 – even though at this point it’s just after Azure, meaning they should be dressed like they are in the Crossbell games. Rean willingly goes out of Valimar to fight Lavi, even though he has no emotional connection to her and has not done this at any point in the games with any character (he only does this once in the games to fight Arianrhod, and in that context he doesn’t have a choice in the matter).

The less I get started on the ending to this dogshit the better – the games state that Rean losing control of himself in the Northern War is specifically responsible for why he’s noticeably more downcast and depressed – here he acts the same as he does in the rest of the show, and despite everything the show ends in an incredibly boring anticlimax where all the civilians are vacated and little to no resistance to Erebonia is put up (the latter is a retcon of what we’re told about how brutal the invasion was in the games). The most audacious thing about this show is that it had the gall to make Rean’s motivation to be a teacher – something that’s subtly ingrained in him in CS2’s epilogue – something that Lavi puts in his head instead, taking a rare moment of Rean being proactive in the Erebonia games’ first half away from him in favor of giving it to a character who has done nothing by comparison.

If this sounds mundane then this is where I point out that one of this franchise’s major appeal and strengths is its continuity across arcs – while the Erebonia games are noticeably weaker than the rest of the franchise in this regard (with a major retcon involving a playable character in CS3/4 and a character being present in an event in Azure when she originally wasn’t, both being such significant gripes for people that Falcom corrected some information in rereleases for the Crossbell games), two instances do not compare to the absolute behemoth that is Northern War’s disinterest in continuity – Northern War treats the lore and continuity of the Trails games like window dressing in favor of desperately trying to appeal to the Trails fanbase as much as possible, with these attempts miserably failing because of how nonsensical the writing is.

There’s nothing noteworthy to speak about involving production values – the series consistently looks horrid, with uneven designs spread throughout and proportions constantly looking off model. Minus a few decent background shots, the show looks consistently ugly from start to finish – visual effects look consistently cheap and off-putting, with flash effects looking uniquely hideous. This is evident as early as the very OP, which has a moment where Lavi opens her eyes as the song drop kicks in, surrounded by what I can only describe as Windows Movie Maker flames. There’s horrid, rough CGI on the mechs – their designs have been simplified and there’s no payoff to it, making their appearance nothing but an eyesore. There’s skipped frames everywhere, dialogue where the sun sets despite barely any time passing, choppy editing with crowds and characters popping out of nowhere and just about nothing aesthetically pleasing whatsoever.

Every bit as offensive as the visuals are the sound design choices – Trails games have (mostly) pretty great OSTs, with some of my favorite field themes in gaming period. Some of them have been incorporated into this dogshit show, and the implementation is poor – they’re often playing in ill-fitting parts of the show and don’t fit the scenes they play in. The new tracks are immediately apparent and while the composition is fine, they suffer from the same issue (albeit not nearly as much as the tracks from games in the series). What I can unanimously shit on, however, are the sound effects – they’re awful and often have a delayed response to what’s actually happening on screen, sometimes two blades would hit each other and you’d hear the “clang” sound a second later instead of instantly, making action scenes even more annoying than they need to be as nothing is clicking together whatsoever.

The worst part about this show – and something that must be held against it more than anything else I have to say here – is that it’s fucking boring. It’s hard to watch, and if I wasn’t a Trails fan seeing through all the details, I’d have never wasted 20 minutes of my life every week on this garbage. Scenes feel unnaturally paced, often with minimal substance – while in a twisted way this is consistent with an issue the games have (the Liberl and especially Erebonia arc games had so much content they had to split games late into development, the Erebonia games going very distinctly from 2 games to 4, and at points in those games damn does it show) there’s nowhere near enough content to justify it, unlike the games, letting things abnormally pad out like I’m watching horrible filler of a long-running shonen from the 2000s.

Then, if there’s nothing redeemable about this show, why waste my precious time on writing a lengthy review like this on it? It’s so obviously garbage that anyone with even a shred of human decency would agree to it, right?

Unfortunately, you’d be wrong. There was a concentrated effort by elements of the Trails fanbase to essentially downplay the show’s problems; the exposition wasn’t so bad and just “normal dialogue”, fans were excitedly reacting to their favorite characters appearing for a split second, and the usual factionalism (exemplified by reaction cows on Twitter fishing for a response as to which arc is best/worst) took over discourse over the show as well, with arguments engaging in what I can only describe as toxic positivity – namely, that because Trails is a comparatively niche franchise next to its other JRPG contemporaries, we should be grateful for the existence of this show at all. This is the logic of someone who has no standards whatsoever, and flies in the face of anyone who authentically likes something because it’s, well, good; the fact someone likes something because it’s good, means that if something related to that thing isn’t good, it must absolutely be held to that standard. That is why I’m here writing this review even; I want something better in the name of a franchise I love, and side stories have come out of this franchise that I love – examples would be the Trails from Zero Four Destinies novel, the Ring of Judgment manga, Loewe spinoff manga or even the rushed but still pretty fun manga adaptation of CS1 (which ironically shares a writer with this show somehow). However, all of those have to live up to the golden standard that the series sets up, with a clear understanding of what people love so much about the Trails series. And that, unfortunately, is a standard Northern War has failed miserably in reaching.

Northern War is a blend of the absolute worst problems Trails has to offer, exacerbated by writers who have no real understanding of the source material they’re basing their story on, staff who are clearly overworked and inexperienced, and direction that’s malaria to the eyes. It’s a video game adaptation in the worst way possible, being a clear, shameless attempt at making money off the Trails fanbase – no one, even the biggest apologists of this worthless garbage, will care about this show in a few years, and almost no one who isn’t already a Trails fan will watch this. I do not recommend this to anyone, and would suggest anyone and everyone – Trails and non-Trails fan alike – stay away from this.

Trails as a series is better and deserves better than this garbage, and I expect better from anything carrying this franchise’s name.

Thank you for reading my review, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

Episodic series are complicated. On one hand, there's a huge degree of freedom that can go into them that you don't obtain quite as easily in semi-episodic or comparatively linear narratives, but on the other they run the risk of running dry due to a lack of variety in their narratives, uninteresting subplots or characters that remain stagnant throughout the show's run.

Cowboy Bebop is interesting because in many ways it encapsulates both the best and worst things about episodic series within its runtime.

The premise is simple enough and works perfectly for the kind of story Cowboy Bebop is - one about these drifting mercenaries simply ... doing odd jobs across the universe, with no overarching goal beyond living paycheck to paycheck. The cast are a colorful bunch and have a fair amount of fun interactions with each other, and the episodic stories vary wildly in terms of what they're about. Good enough, so what then is the issue?

The episodic stories are incredibly inconsistent in terms of quality, some being excellent, others being mediocre if not outright bad.

The more comedy-focused episodic stories are fine, but act as a kind of mood whiplash with the darker parts of the series - but then there's ones that are outright pretty damn bad, standouts including the infamous Feng Shui episode or the episode Edward's introduced in. This lack of consistency (to say nothing of most episodes following a certain format, more on that later) make Cowboy Bebop an incredibly difficult show to sit down and get engrossed in.

That's to say nothing of how the central narrative is structured - this show is episodic in the true sense of the term and from what I can gather not even told in chronological order, which while makes sense to an extent (the entire point is that these characters are static and numb to what's happening around them) means that the central narrative and random episodic stories have a clear, thick dividing line between them, with the narrative essentially coming out of nowhere at random. There's an argument to be made about how this fits the idea of Spike trying to run away from his past, with his past finding a way to chase after him anyway - this is a weak argument that isn't helped by a certain issue in how the story is presented.

You don't get to see virtually any of the side cast outside the scope of the episodic parts they're introduced in, and this includes characters who are relevant to the central narrative outside of a few quick flashbacks. This was a deliberate design choice and I heavily disagree with it because it leaves the viewer thoroughly disengaged from everything happening in the story, meaning when the main narrative does return and kick back in full force, I have no reason to care about it beyond being an observer to Spike's mistakes. Why should I care about his emotional investment to Julia, or rivalry with Vicious, when his dynamic with Jet and Faye are what I see much more of anyway? And while there can be an argument that much like them being observers to all the tragedies that happen and growing numb to it, we're placed in a position where we too are growing numb to their issues, it also makes it impossible to relate to these characters despite the themes about overcoming the past being general and easy to relate to - the distance the story uses to invoke this message is paradoxically both its strongest asset and worst enemy.

The central cast are a largely static bunch in a sense - they do progress slightly over the course of whatever there is for a narrative, Jet has several episodic arcs dedicated to that in particular - but their dynamic stays as that of a pack of strangers keeping their distance from one another while awkwardly trying to get closer only to drift further. This isn't necessarily a problem in and of itself, but the way the series presents this is through the cast (and by cast I really just mean Spike and Faye) rushing headlong like headless chickens over and over again into making mistakes as other cast members (which happens to be consistently Jet) tries to stop either of them from doing so. This very quickly gets old and I refuse to digest the idea that this is repetition for the sake of emphasis because it happens so many times that the viewer is likely to get really sick of it really quickly - Faye going off gambling is one of the most unfunny gags in the history of anime and she's such an annoying character with such a thoroughly uninteresting backstory that it baffles me to the moon that people can point at her and claim she's one of the greatest female characters in anime history. That backstory is relevant to the themes of the story, but it's so emotionally uninteresting and overdone that it's shocking that it isn't shat on harder by fans and detractors of this alike.

This isn't to say that there's no positives to Cowboy Bebop - hell, I'd dare say there's more positives than negatives. Spike does manage to be an engaging character from start to finish, even if there's issues I already went over in how his arc is presented. Jet's actually a character I didn't have much of an issue with - his tolerance for Faye's bullshit notwithstanding, his comradery with Spike was authentic and genuine, and several of the best moments in the series were with him and Spike bickering over how horrid the food is. Ed's actually somewhat entertaining after her debut episode - the cringe factor still occasionally comes back, but it's nowhere near as bad as some people would have you believe. And Ein, well, being a dog aside, is pretty fun.

The visuals are absolutely stunning and have aged magnificently - the backgrounds are beautiful, the animation's gorgeous and the way the series does worldbuilding is actually something I find pretty underrated - there's no massive infodump on the world, just scattered pieces of exposition as the cast explore random parts of the setting, with said setting having extremely varied locations and cultures that always if nothing else showed a nice, new thing for the viewer to look at. The soundtrack is spectacular and great, there's a fuckton of neat references to Western pop culture, the action is usually absolutely gorgeous and varies from gun fights to spaceship battles to hand-to-hand combat, all of which is done insanely well. The central narrative despite all my issues with it is still decently engaging, and the ending is memorable as hell and among the most iconic in anime history for a reason.

If this review comes off as harsh, it's because Cowboy Bebop is put on such a high pedestal insofar as episodic anime goes that it comes off as baffling - not even by the fanbase, but even by the series itself, which claims in random transition slides that it will be a new work that will invent a genre of its own (which by any standard is a shockingly narcisstic thing to put in there, influential and classic this show may be it certainly did not do that). There's better episodic anime out there (Natsume and Mushishi) and better cautionary tales out there (Fate/Zero and Gundam IBO) than this series, and they're not nearly as infuriating to watch at points as this is, nor do they have a strange theme about the maturity of accepting the status quo as is - which while makes sense in the context of what the series is trying to preach about humans being cogs in a machine, interesting that everyone from the environmental activists, revolutionaries and terrorists is just portrayed as though their fight is pointless and nothing can or will ever change. The political implications of such an attitude is obvious, and while the series doesn't portray such an attitude positively, it also provides no real counter to it.

In a way, that's the highest I can say about a show like Cowboy Bebop - for all its talk about being revolutionary, the show is in many ways more of the same if you've seen a sizeable number of episodic shows or cautionary tales. And that's just about the biggest slight I can make against a show like Cowboy Bebop - it's decent, but nothing outstanding.

Thank you for reading my review, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

This review will contain spoilers for the entirety of SSSS Gridman. You have been warned.

SSSS Gridman being a loosely related sequel to a tokusatsu show even people within the toku fanbase have largely not seen or taken an interest in randomly being adapted in 2018 raised very few alarm bells - while Trigger did showcase a short that was done in tribute to Gridman a few years prior, Gridman itself was an anomaly in every respect, with only a few curious eyes wanting to check it out in 2018.

Little did people know that what we'd get out of Gridman is the kickstart of a subfranchise ... that would critically define Studio Trigger, being the most captivating set of series Trigger has done so far.

Gridman's central premise is ironically somewhat hidden in the show's format - playing tokusatsu as well as mecha anime tropes straight albeit as a form of homage - Yuta's the chosen one by Gridman to save the world, Utsumi is the standard friend who cheers him on, Rikka is the aloof love interest and Akane is the popular girl everyone loves who also loves the main character. This betrays a meticulously well-written story about these characters and their relationships to one another - one about their limited agency, self-worth, purpose in their wider world and more importantly, the value of healthy connections instead of blindly giving up on the world in a fit of self-loathing rage.

Our apparent trio - Yuta, Utsumi and Rikka - all embody these elements to various levels. Yuta's initially portrayed as an amnesiac, who due to the resets and forgetfulness questions his purpose in even fighting (or existing) before reconciling that with the fact people are getting erased from existence with each reset, putting it onto himself that he must keep fighting as a result. He's a blank slate, robotic man who does the motions of living but nothing more initially, coming onto his own by the end of the series through both his feelings for Rikka and finding worth in what he does as the setting's savior - even despite the twist at the end involving his identity, Yuta retains the lessons learned through the series and chooses to live as free and honest a life as he can, which is relevant to his budding feelings for Rikka - the reality Yuta must face is that he has to embrace the change in relationship that'll come out of any confession he makes to Rikka, with him over the course of the series getting there.

Utsumi's role is as the emotional crutch of the group, being a sort of representation for the average toku fan watching this show craving an adventure of his own. In reality, he's just a guy wandering aimless through life, hoping for something to happen to him to ease his boredom instead of assimilate into the mold and be yet another boring person - his entire character arc is ironically about him seeing worth in his own emotional role, and not use his passion for tokusatsu as a be-all, end-all. His bond with Yuta despite Yuta’s amnesia is pretty great and his frequent tension with Rikka (only for them to grow closer together as characters) is worth mentioning – Rikka is someone he bonds with outside of tokusatsu, and it’s relevant to his character arc about breaking out of his shell and bonding with people outside of his interests.

Rikka’s role is to act as the disinterested, grounded one of the three – being the one who often points out the absurdity of situations and has no real interest in tokusatsu tropes; in fact, Rikka doesn’t have much of an interest in anything. If Utsumi’s obsession with tokusatsu is supposed to highlight his own tunnel vision involving interests and interacting with the world around him, Rikka’s lack of interest highlights the person she is; someone who keeps a clear distance from everyone around her and lacks explicit emotional attachment to anyone while clearly keeping her distance. Her characterization is directly relevant to Akane’s, for reasons that involve the story’s central premise.

Akane is the real main character of Gridman – she created this entire setting as an escape from reality, and all the different main characters reflect elements of her that she herself has, only the trio reflect positive traits (Yuta her inner altruism, Utsumi her passion for her hobbies but in a more functional person and Rikka being her general ideal for the kind of person she wants to be while also reflecting some of her flaws) and improve as people as they gain sentience away from Akane, and Akane herself slips further and further into a downward spiral as the series goes on; this world is her only escape from depression and suicidality that she lives through in her own life. Ironically, the trio gaining sentience – this including Anti, who debatably is her punching bag for the abuse she suffers in her own life, thereby continuing the cycle of abuse – can be reflective of her subconscious desire for someone to save her, and her own personal desire to finally gain the courage to face reality and be a happier person.

The series’s themes tie also into the struggles involving growing up at all, and the desire to establish connections during puberty/adolescence. This is a more subtly hidden them, but it ties into every major character’s arc and Akane’s especially, with a central point being that Akane isn’t wrong for seeking bonds, but wrong for seeking them in such a manipulative manner in a way that wouldn’t help or save her. Alexis Kerib – his obvious connection to the original Gridman TV show notwithstanding – can be seen symbolically as her darkest desires in clinging to escapism no matter what and a symbol of such an unhealthy relationship, foiling him and Akane properly to the trio’s more natural and convincing friendship with each other (and later into the series, Akane herself).

The side cast don’t get much characterization but are generally pretty fun to see, and the focus largely stays on the main cast (with the exception of Anti, whose characterization as a more humane kaiju with the capability of being a better person through empathy ironically contrasts with what Akane seeks herself). The story’s honestly insanely straightforward, it just hides its best punches insanely cleverly, seeking to lure in the watcher in the last third of the show, which is where everything magnificently comes together.

The animation quality is stunning – while the CG during fights between Gridman and kaiju might be grating to some, it was fine to me and felt like a nice tribute to the style present in tokusatsu live action shows. The facial animations and subtle character movements look gorgeous and add a lot of characterization to the cast – small things like Utsumi and Rikka refusing to sleep during episode 3 or Rikka nervously twitching her fingers behind her back while talking to Yuta do wonders to add to the overall cast. The direction is exceptional – this is especially true in the last four episodes, but the show is a marvel of knowing how to drag the viewer into its pace and atmosphere, episode 9 being an obvious standout but more scenes than I can ever bring out are noteworthy too.

This show requires quite a bit of patience, but damn is it oh-so-worth it.

I strongly recommend it.

Thank you for anyone and everyone who’s read my review to the end, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

86 S1 was a stellar exploration of ethnic nationalism and fascism - how as the worthless scourge it is, it creates conspirators out of an entire society living within a state's borders, with the citizenry either accepting the new status quo and wrestling with revisionism on display, or by rejecting it (as Lena does and did) and choosing ostracization and alienation by both society and the state at large, effectively choosing a path of rebellion. S1 makes clear the point that while the ethnic Alba are largely racist and revisionist, it's due to factors outside of their control and in many ways are themselves victims ... of an increasingly homogenous society, pushing those who disagree with the state to the side and offering no real room for a counter-narrative (let alone liberating the 86 from the Republic's tyrannical rule). It compliments all this with a deeply personal narrative about memory politics and civic nationalism, about how difficult it becomes reconciling memories of a home stripped away from people who have lost absolutely everything while also saying that well, home is where you find home to be, and not something dictated by something as flimsy as lineage or ethnic background.

86's second cour (or season 2, I'll just refer to it as season 2 from this point on as I do feel there's enough to discuss that distinguishes this part of the narrative from the prologue) is a wildly different beast. Our central cast are no longer forced into conflict against their will and have to make the choice themselves to return to the battlefield - with the option of having a normal life given to them. What this turns into is an entire theme (complimenting the lack of agency the Alba in S1 had) about positive and negative freedom, where while the inhabitants of the Federacy have the relative freedom to find their own paths in life, the Spearhead Squadron neither have the ability to rationally do after everything that happened to them in S1 and before that nor the ability to even imagine. Much of the season is these characters desperately trying to repick the pieces back up, and recontextualizing what their lives even mean once the fighting ends - if there is such a purpose to even be found beyond that.

The alienation the central cast feel from wider society doesn't end with the prologue, however; they're treated with a contemptuous level of pity by the Federacy's society at best, being pitied for being raised as child soldiers and told to stay off the battlefield despite the lack of agency involved in their decisions after everything they had gone through, and at worst implicitly discriminated against due to their experiences not lining up with what much of their ethnic kin in Giad have experienced in their own lives as well (which is a welcome and more interesting contrast to the more explicit discrimination present in the Republic). The presence of pity or sympathy at best and not empathy is the distinction to be made here; there's a clear message here about how wider society - for all the talk about not letting the more underprivileged fall to the way side - has no problem whatsoever keeping a distance from people whose culture and experiences are deemed too heavy. This is exemplified over and over again by everyone and their dog telling Shin to just quit the military and be happy - which while a valid thing to say, is clearly alienating to someone who by that point has been defined by his experiences putting his comrades out of their misery and being driven by fighting nonstop as a distraction from his trauma.

Happiness is an interesting beast to tackle involving 86 S2. The series doesn't glorify the Federacy's non-combatant citizenry, but neither does it take a militaristic stance involving pushing them to fight. In fact, quite the opposite; the happiness found in a normal, down to earth life where a place to call home is taken for granted is something the series outright romanticizes, but with the nuance that such a thing isn't presently possible for those that have had so much stolen from them by the current conflict - the Spearhead Squadron among them. This extends to another aspect that is relevant to everything 86 is as a story; meaning.

S2 for the first time puts the Spearhead Squadron in a position where they no longer can live lives - even if they returned to the battlefield - strictly defined by nonstop fighting. Anju's interest in cooking, Kurena's in fashion, Raiden in just doing rough labor (he pretty openly says he hasn't found anything in particular he's interested in) and Theo's (which is more relevant later in the narrative) in drawing but with the catch of not trying to socialize with anyone when doing art are all things that they can turn to involving normalcy. They reject that ultimately, but the catch here and something the series harps on is that they have to find something to love and enjoy beyond the fighting - the last episode of the series dedicating time to revisiting all of these interests is emphasizing the fact that it's not normalcy in itself that's being rejected, normalcy with the pretense of rejecting past experiences is. This is tied insanely well with the series's already strong emphasis on memory politics and trauma, and perhaps it's about time to mention the elephant in the room tied to everything in S2; Shin.

Shin, in the truest sense, is a child soldier with no purpose on the battlefield beyond more fighting. He's detached from any moral compass and is in many ways a weapon taken human form, one whose experiences have been completely shunned (which ironically contrasts him with the normal citizens of the Republic, who similarly also shun the past in favor of a temporary present) in favor of constantly focusing on the lives in front of him that he either has to save or put out of their misery for. This kind of existence is traumatic and leaves him in a position where the longer he kept doing it, the heavier the burden on his shoulders - something the rest of the cast point out constantly is that Shin is unique in how the burden couldn't possibly have been shared with him and yet there's a clear desire by the cast to remove it from him entirely. The mark on his unit being the same as his brother's and kept even beyond S2's ending is noteworthy in that respect; Shin desperately tries to avoid the past while being, like all people, defined by it, and his character resolution comes in accepting his trauma as a part of him, that it's OK to be hopeful instead of slip into the same mindless nihilism as the Legion (exemplified by his guardian angel Lena, who inadvertently is the catalyst that drags him out of that headspace), that it's fine to live up to the past legacies and more than anything, that it's OK to be happy and move beyond trauma that has until this point defined your life and hope for something better.

Frederica is similarly noteworthy to mention as she is someone who is defined by a past she can't escape yet is forced to escape from anyway (her being nobility in a former kingdom whose last name has been changed), having seen exactly where the worst of Shin's behavior can go in Kiriya and being a voice of sanity in the entire narrative telling him that it's OK to personalize himself instead of remain detached from the world around him in this nihilistic, self-hating frenzy - two scenes that best exemplify this is one where Frederica warns him about not following Kiriya's path and explains everything that happened to her, but also explaining that he should stop perceiving the world in such a hyper-militaristic manner by refusing to personalize and decorate his room. Similarly, another scene is where the two have a conversation about what it means to even be alive, how Shin perceives himself (which ties into S1's ending oh so perfectly) as a did man walking - Frederica tells Shin that as bleak as their lives can and are, that it's fine having dreams of something to hope for, and that he's ingrained his own misery onto himself so far that he can't even imagine a world where he can do that. Frederica is just a fantastic character period, her childishness contrasting wonderfully with the rest of the cast but being a pretty great example of what the series as an ethic is promoting - she doesn't hesitate in confronting her past trauma, and interacts normally with Shin (albeit with the nuance of not calling him by a nickname). She struggles desperately with all of Shin's actions mirroring Kiriya's, but never stops being a supporter of Shin climbing out of the mental anguish and trauma he's presently in, offering him real empathy.

Many, many characters receive a truckload of characterization in S2. Raiden's bromance with Shin is a joy, but there's also wonderful scenes of him hanging out with his workmates and Frederica - the scene of him cooking something for her is one of my favorite in the whole season because there's something down to Earth and humane about this guy just chilling with a child while badmouthing his best friend. The scene on the bridge is fantastic emotional drama and something built up all the way from S1's finale, and his optimism despite also not having something to clearly work towards like Shin does is refreshing and infinitely likable. Anju struggling to move past Daiya kickstarts the core of her own character arc, but the fact she desperately tries to continue fighting instead of give in and kick the bucket says it all; despite all her pain, she'll keep fighting. Kurena is juvenile and doesn't remotely understand Shin, but her desperation in understanding him at all is key. And most notably, Theo trying to desperately live up to his old colonel's legacy implicitly (though this won't be openly expanded on until later) is indicative of how perhaps the most important things about those who pass away that people hold dear is living up to the best of them rather than drown in self-depreciating self-pity.

Frederica is not the only character introduced in S2 who's noteworthy to mention. Ernst is as likable as he is terrifying, being a perfect foil to Lena's own utopian idealism in how he stands for admirable ideals but also copes poorly with the odds of them failing at any point, with his character relationships both with Frederica and the Spearhead Squadron being both amusing and interesting to watch - he embodies his own ideals in many ways about a nation being a place where people of any background can call home, but ironically segregates himself from his own family in Frederica, his maid and the central cast knowing full well that he might consider himself replacing his old family by doing so, making him a warped if tragic and insanely humane hypocrite. Willem is a messy, ugly person who is driven purely by his own selfish desire to not see the woman he loves break down entirely rather than a better defined clear moral compass - Grethe is fun and endlessly charismatic while also projecting her own experiences as a veteran on the Squadron, offering them limited but not full empathy. This season also features the beginning of Anette slowly defrosting from her more jaded and guilt-driven cynicism in S1, driven by perhaps the most important of the side cast - Lena.

Lena's role in S2 has been confused by many a LN reader and anime watcher alike, as this is the arc where she gets permanently relegated as the central main character of the story in favor of Shin, as well as (unlike the rest of the story) doesn't even take up the deuteragonist role, showing up less than a handful of times in the arc in the LNs even. However, this is also the part of the story where much of her petty conversations with Shin reach full circle - she means the world to Shin, figuratively and literally, and much of his descent into full-on nihilism is driven by his belief in her no longer being there. Her idealism is present, but tempered by the reality of the setting she lives in at this point (not unlike Ernst) - however, her drive to fight on remains and is perhaps the most evocative part of 86's broader message about living on persistently, despite all the pain and suffering one might endure, hoping for a better tomorrow. Lena loses almost everything a human being can possibly lose over the course of S2, yet she continued fighting on. She saves Shin by merely existing, and (with the anime beautifully presenting it as her stepping out of his narrow frame and into his world) offers Shin a layer of potential normalcy and the promise of a happier future, tying together their conversations in S1 to something deeper and more substantial.

On a side tangent, I've seen my fair share of bad faith criticism by 86 detractors on how she should've formally joined the 86 instead of persist on within the Republic; I don't know if these people and myself watched the same show, but Lena's hands were tied the literal second she heard about the Legion offensive, and she wouldn't have achieved much by joining the 86 on her own in a potential suicide run. She wouldn't have saved as many people fighting for the 86 as she did by rebuffing the Legion offensive, and people who make this criticism come off as simply assuming 86 is a story about racism and corrupt governance and stopping there.

Perhaps - to tie things back to discussing memory politics - the strongest indication what 86 desires to communicate as a story as mentioned earlier is Shin wanting to maintain his ties to his powers, continue the fight while also reconciling his memories of his late brother and memories of himself in the Republic clearly with who he is instead of shaft them and deeming them unnecessary. The segment with flashing images in the last stretch of the season, showing montages of the central cast and what made them, well, them up until this point is key, that the past may define you evermore, but you can define yourself and how to contextualize it here and now.

86 S2 is a less visually impressive cour than S1, but this ironically works to its benefit with stronger direction, more evocative imagery and more flair. The series is Ishii's debut as director and if this is how impressive his work is with something like 86, I can't imagine what he would contribute in future works. The use of visual motifs - like the rails, aspect ratio, ants and photos/video footage - is applied fantastically. The voiceacting is amazing - I have nothing to say on this front that I didn't say in my S1 review - and the OST is even more stellar than S1, being among Sawano's finest work yet. LilaS is a particular favorite of mine, the context definitely helping solidify that as one of my favorite insert songs in all of anime, but another favorite is Voices of the Chord, a track that uses Avid as a leitmotif but with stronger vocals and lyrics.

86 S2 heralds something more for the future of the wider narrative for 86, taking what made S1 so stellar and expanding on it, having a more emotional and personalized story. I cannot recommend this highly enough.

Thank you for reading, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

The series "Kanojo, Okarishimasu" is a high brow commentary on the nature of the rental girlfriend service, critiquing the very nature of young adulthood and the material nature of chasing carnal desires. The main character, Kazuya, is a young lad who desperately like many a man his age desires nothing more than to chase skirts, only for him to fall in love with his rental girlfriend - who is someone who symbolically and poetically desires to be an actress, a role consistent with her rental girlfriend role where she acts (haha, get it) affections. What follows is Kazuya's endeavors to break out of his superficial ... mentality and love her for who she is rather than the role she plays, being a scathing criticism of Japanese society's rental girlfriend service. The other members of Kazuya's harem all signify some archetype commonly presented in the landscape of Japanese media, amplified for the sake of criticism, making KanoKari a deep deconstruction of the harem genre where the conventions often celebrated - the plot going nowhere for hundreds of chapters, the characters being flanderized endlessly and the main character having the charisma of a fruit fly - are instead shat on, lending itself to this series that at once is anti-escapist while also being a reminder of how excellent stories in the genre can be.

The first season of 86 is a scathing critique of ethnic nationalism and its connotations, those being that it lends itself to the mistreatment and othering of groups of people that do not fall under the main (or dominant) ethnicity of the state. It shows the incredible ease at which people not only accept racism against another group, but also are willing to neglect doing the right thing (even when such a thing is readily obvious for huge segments of society) for the sake of wider conformity. This multilayered approach to how racism, discrimination and war is portrayed - complimented by excellent writing, phenomenal direction ... and fantastic sound design - makes 86 especially compelling. Perhaps more than anything, 86 keeps war drama tropes on the characters it focuses on to a minimum, with characters that possess a more black-and-white perspective on the world portrayed negatively and nuance being something the narrative promotes above all else...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

86 is many things, its nuanced discussions on racism notwithstanding. It's a story that discusses what exactly makes up a nation, whether it's its populace or the values it adheres to, and discusses how the very soul of what a state may stand for may be stripped bare even with the aesthetics of that remaining. The Republic of San Magnolia is the example provided by the narrative in the first season, with everything from its foundation to its flag celebrating its diverse heritage, yet throughout the fridge horror experience that is episode 1, it becomes readily apparent that this is a façade kept alive by a government that was willing to collectively punish a group of its citizens for belonging to the wrong ethnic background, with this disgustingly racialized notion of what it means to belong to the Republic having been normalized and accepted throughout the state - with the persecuted non-Alba citizens, the 86, being regularly dehumanized in all of the Republic's institutions. This extends so far as to have said 86 have their citizenships stripped from them and serving forced conscription in the military with the promise of gaining citizenship back for themselves and their families should they serve their full terms. Like many an oppressive dictatorship, this is a lie propagated with the intent on sending the 86 near the end of their service - all while intentionally undermining their military capacity and underfunding them - on a death march that bears more than a passing resemblance to infamous instances of genocide, ranging from the Trail of Tears to the Armenian Genocide to the Nakba. And yet, 86's nuanced enough to neither portray Alba citizens of the Republic as full monsters nor innocent bystanders, instead showing the painful complicity through which ordinary people might be in the persecution of their fellow man. More than anything, 86 possesses the nuance to show just how easily can the tables turn on the opposite direction - what with 86 themselves often treating the Alba or half-Alba within their ranks (who were often themselves political dissidents of the new order in the Republic) with the same contempt that was showered on them. This understanding of racism as being conditioned rather than simply something people do because they're evil helps paint the series in a more mature light, whereas the author has a clear understanding of the subject matter that she is tackling.

There's more to 86 than merely what it has to say about racism. Perhaps just as important is on the sentimentality the series portrays about life in the midst of chaos, and how being conditioned that you might drop dead on any day so radically alters one's life to the point of being unable to imagine much in the way of well, living, beyond what is temporary. Many conversations are had - usually between both main characters Shin and Lena, but also among other members of the cast - on what exactly purpose even means in such a radical situation, and what comes after the fighting ends, if it even ends. That last point is key, because the cast are so used to fighting tooth and nail to survive that they can't visibly imagine a world where the end to their journeys don't come with their brutal deaths on the battlefield. Shin himself is an exemplary example of this, being someone whose purpose in life had become his role as a death reaper carrying his comrades' reminders to whatever final destination he finds as well as his own grudge against his brother, trapped in a Legion who he seeks to both liberate from his suffering as well as take revenge on for his own scars. Perhaps a more symbolic analysis of the Legion in this context - and one complimented by later events in the light novels - is that they are walking, symbolic reminders of trauma and how they can haunt the suffering of those alive now, that the past isn't simply something you can tow away to be forgotten once you're no longer part of it. Much of Shin's purpose in such a context - one that's also complimented by Raiden, Theo, Anju and naturally Lena - is how exactly to take meaning out of people who simply are no longer around, what with someone existing here and now. It's difficult to describe where this goes without spoiling events in future seasons and volumes, but needless to say that many of 86's finest moments are when it rubs home that it's perfectly fine to pursue happiness for its own sake, without perceiving the past as a burden but rather something that can compliment and empower a person, even through all the pain someone had previously undergone.

Both the underlying themes exploring racism and sentimentality tie insanely well into what it has to say about memory and what that means to its cast of characters but also its setting at large. Historic revisionism is at the core of why the Republic does what it does, and yet characters struggle with how their own perception of history clashes heavily with that of the state, where instead of the 86 being monsters whose country of origin brought forth the Legion to ransack and torment the world, they're...otherwise ordinary humans who are not responsible for what the Glad government that existed at the time had done. The 86 remember having fellow Alba serve alongside them who similarly are not the xenophobic ghouls that they consider them as, serving heroically in battle alongside their fellow 86 kin against the Legion and in spite of their atrocious government. And more than anything, memories of people who had died, irrespective of who they were in life, are frequently shown via photos contrasting them with the people they are now (or were when they died), in one amazing instance with video footage summarizing the entire journey these characters took together until the end. Shin's own self-perception is also explored, what with him perceiving himself as a dead man walking yet having that thrown into question, and the same applies to Lena's own memories of being saved by an 86 when younger. Memory - both memory politics and insofar as deeply subjective perception of events present and past goes - is at the core of everything in 86's story, and it's this hauntingly fascinating yet human understanding of how perception is flexible to change that makes 86 such an amazing story.

The cast of characters are wildly varied in both the screentime they receive and their characterization, but the characters that the narrative focuses on the most are incredibly multilayered and complex. The Spearhead Squadron as a whole are a fun cast whose chemistry is just always a joy whenever they're on screen, Shin being the character who receives the most focus over the course of the series. Raiden, Anju, Kurena and Theo all also receive a lot of characterization, with Lena also receiving a lot of characterization (her internalized racism and self-righteous attitude being viciously criticized by the narrative, with her growing increasingly attached to the Spearhead Squadron heralding in her being outright antagonistic towards the Republic by the end of S1). Annette and Jerome are both cases of characters who act as contradictors both to information Lena believes about the Republic as well as her own memories involving people she holds dear, all while putting her convictions to the test considering their opposition to her ideals. Even minor characters like Daiya, Lev or Kaie get decent amounts of characterization despite their comparatively minor roles in the story, and characters who are merely mentioned in passing or hardly feature at all still have their deaths affect the overall story with lasting impact being felt.

The character designs and artwork are a noteworthy but understandable step down from Shirabii's gorgeous illustrations in the light novel volumes. Much of the detail had been sacrificed in favor of simpler character designs, but this actually stood to benefit the series rather than detract from it; the animation is fantastic from start to finish, with facial animation and expressiveness being absolutely amazing and always reflective of the tone of a scene or more importantly, how a character feels in a given moment. They're dynamic and fluid, and it helps set the stage for just about anything the series is trying to do; these are complimented by gorgeous backgrounds, excellent use of CGI for the mechs, phenomenal voiceacting (with relative newcomer Ikumi Hasegawa being worthy of particular praise for her excellent role as Lena, a worthy followup to her also amazing role as Minami in Bottom Tier Tomozaki-kun) and a great soundtrack courtesy of Hiroyuki Sawano, even if not a soundtrack I'd consider among his best (that would go to Gundam Unicorn). The direction - both visual and sound - is fantastic from start to finish, and there's very little to say on this front that wouldn't be self-described by the series itself - episode 1 is a fantastic example of how to perfectly set up a story while keeping exposition to a minimum by contrasting both the 86 and the Alba in the Republic's day to day lives as well as their reaction to something as mundane as dropping food on the floor, with excellent transitions and shots layered throughout.

The only reason there somehow isn't more to discuss involving 86 is because, well, volume 1 (which season 1 covers) acts as a sort of prologue to the entire story, with more to discuss in subsequent arcs. I cannot await how future arcs will be explored in future seasons hard enough. 86 is a marvelous story that tackles just about everything exceptionally well, and perhaps more than anything is a reminder after the relative drought the mecha genre suffered during the 2010s that the genre has not run out of fantastic new stories to tell. I cannot recommend this highly enough.

Thank you for reading, any and all feedback would be appreciated.

HigeHiro is the embodiment of a series with good intent proceeding to then absolutely shit on them while being comically unaware of its failings. It covers a highschool runaway turned prostitute by the name of Sayu, who crashes in at the place of our resident main MC Yoshida, starting a rather heartwarming story about her increasingly finding family in Yoshida as well as others and becoming more and more self-sufficient on her own. This works for the first stretch of the series, but runs into numerous issues even early on that only become more and more exacerbated.

Even early into the show, there's a heavy emphasis ... on Sayu needing to pick up her bag and head back to her family - which considering this is a highschool runaway with clear traces of emotional abuse, is obviously out of the question for any sane person to do, yet Yoshida and the rest of the cast keep insisting on this like it's the only option before even bothering asking Sayu why she ran away in the first place. Sayu is desentized involving sexual activity, and this is unsurprising considering her experiences until meeting Yoshida, yet her flirting with him only increases as the series goes on regardless of what happens - even if Yoshida rejects her advances. This colors their interactions in a rather inappropriate romantic light, with the two often blushing at events like going to the fireworks or stumbling on top of each other in a manner reminiscent of a romantic comedy - which is a problem, because this show's romance is rather poor and it certainly can't be described as comedic, especially the later into the show we get.

This series has precisely zero tact involving the subject matter it is covering. This includes Yoshida's coworkers chastising him for keeping a girl with him and encouraging him to kick her to head home - which is doubly astounding considering that all of these people are adults and as such should be aware that her reasons for running away must have been rather heavy if she had to resort to the measures she had. It doesn't help that neither character is well-developed, with the majority of their characterization surrounding their feelings for Yoshida or position on Sayu staying with him, but never much about them personally - in fact, we don't get to know much about the cast at all minus Sayu and her later friend (and easily best character in the series) Asami. Asami is the closest thing the series has to a well-rounded character, and her characterization involving going against her parent's wishes on what to study as well as friendship with Sayu was fairly well done and marked what I consider to be the strongest point of the series. Unfortunately, the later into the series we go, the more its issues run rampant.

A point of criticism against the series in Japan is that Yoshida's actions are illegal, as keeping a minor against the wishes of their parents with an adult is legally perceived as kidnapping (though isn't considered kidnapping if the parents don't press charges/nobody reports it). While I cannot speak to the validity of the criticism made by locals, it misses another point entirely, being that she had no clear authorities to turn to for her troubles (something unfortunately common among most victims of various shades of abuse and mental trauma worldwide) and had to resort to leaving her family entirely. Various series have explored these points in different ways; Ryukishi's work in the Higurashi and Umineko visual novels, for example, extensively cover how abuse can occur in tight social structures, helped greatly by Ryukishi's own experiences as a social worker and how these experiences can materialize. Monogatari, for all its flaws, extensively covers this subject in several character arcs - shown from both the perspectives of victims as well as perpetrators - and handles it exceptionally well, particularly in Nekomonogatari and Second Season. Chi no Wadachi is a pretty neat psychological horror manga, showing to what extent abuse can scar someone and diving fairly deep into the victim's psyche. And there's countless media in the sphere that has covered this topic with quite a bit of care on some level - the recently finished airing fantastic Fruits Basket reboot being yet another example, the Little Busters visual novel's Haruka route being one as well to cap things off.

Unfortunately, as mentioned before, HigeHiro is not a case where this is handled particularly well. Sayu gets guilt-tripped all series long to essentially fuck off and return to her family, and her backstory showcases her family being sociopathic asshats who didn't care for her trauma at worst, and negligent at best. Her mentioning her background unfortunately does not change the pace at which she is pushed to leaving Yoshida and returning to her family, which is doubly astounding considering that everyone interacting with the situation minus Sayu is an adult, and her family as insanely toxic - her mother, for example, is absolute scum, immediately conservatively enquires on her daughter's chastity and talks about the trouble she caused her. One would expect the narrative to confront the incredibly conservative attitudes being shown here, which played a huge role in Sayu fleeing from her family. Instead, Yoshida bows his head to her and everything is resolved seamlessly, which leads me to another issue involving the series; it has no idea how to deal with antagonists.

The earliest instance of an antagonistic character in the series is some playboy who attempts to rape Sayu, which actually is a pretty accurate portrayal of standard sexual assault; victim already knows the perpetrator, blackmail, sexual harassment and so on. The issue is that once the playboy is chased off, the next time he's in an episode he's suddenly conscious of hiding Sayu from her brother stalking the supermarket they're working and is all of a sudden portrayed in a positive light, with his previous actions forgotten. This...is a recurring problem in the series, with Yuzuha and Sayu's moms similarly being victims of the series' strange willingness to forgive people who probably really shouldn't be forgiven, and sweep their actions under the rug due to its clear conservative tint.

There are, however, unique problems to the anime that do not exist in its light novel or manga counterpart. Volume 3 of the LNs - which gives Yoshida quite a bit of backdrop and characterization - is casually skimmed through, making Yoshida himself come off as rather flat, with very little characterization. In both other versions of the story, he's given some exploration of his past with a previous girlfriend, and his distant approach to personal relationships is emphasized to contrast with Sayu's, who receives similar development in the next volume that the anime adapted more concisely. 5 volumes is quite a bit for a 1 cour anime, and while I do think Project No. 9 had a lot on their plate here - this being a decently budgeted anime right after releasing Tomozaki-kun - this show clearly needed more runtime to expand on its cast of characters, and I say this as someone familiar with the source material and up to date with the manga as of the time of this writing. This could have at least somewhat recontextualized some of the dynamic between Sayu and Yoshida, and I'm not sure why Yoshida's backstory was dropped out of the anime in favor of a fireworks date.

Perhaps no larger offender of HigeHiro's issues exists than its ending, which while acts as a bookends to the beginning of the story, also serves as a clear romantic conclusion considering the romantic and sexual friction between both Sayu and Yoshida - culminating in a rather questionable conversation between the two before his flight home wherein he mentions that he wouldn't mind being romantically engaged with her once she comes of age, but won't wait for her to pursue a different relationship. Judging by the fact he was willing to invite her into his apartment post-timeskip, that leaves very little to the imagination about his relationship status and where their relationship goes from her - while I do think age gap stories can be interesting depending on their execution, there's no mention of the disproportionate power dynamic between the two or the fact Sayu very clearly spent so much time being unhealthily attached to Yoshida, who while her savior also acted as a guardian over the course of the story.

On a technical level, the series is competent; it's decently directed and nice to look at, the character designs are attractive to look at and the animation remained largely consistent, with clear jumps in quality in better moments in the series. The sound design is worth of praise, with pretty good voiceacting, a neat OST and consistent sound effects - to say nothing of the OP, which is pretty nice, and the ED, which is pretty catchy and highlights what I consider the series' best parts. Some people found the fanservice distasteful and while I can't say it bothers me much, I can see where they're coming from involving how the show covers it.

In conclusion, HigeHiro starts off decently enough, but rapidly disintegrates under the weight of its subject matter and themes, of which the author is clearly unequipped to tackle. I wish 'em the best of luck in future endeavors - the series' better moments are clear indicators of what they're capable of - and that they'd improve from this series' failings.

Thanks to anyone and everyone for reading this review. Any and all feedback would be appreciated.

Source for the Japanese reception to HigeHiro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDwtfXUGiZ4

Mashiro no Oto - also known by its English name "Those Snow White Notes", and will be henceforth referred to as MnO for convenience - is a story of overcoming loss, living up to a past legacy, improvising on the past no matter how painful it may be, forming connections with people, and how to compromise traditionalism with modernity. It's a multilayered yet simple story told very effectively, with a handful of hiccups along the way that don't take away from how incredible the show is.

MnO's strength comes at its specific focus on its central main lead in Setsu, who beyond a shadow of doubt ... is one of the highlights of the series. Setsu loses his entire purpose in life when his grandfather passes away, leaving behind nothing but a shamisen that his grandfather warned him not to play for risk of living in his shadow. What follows is Setsu escaping his insulated life in the countryside for a more open life in the city, albeit one where he knows absolutely no one; the series takes advantage of this to dive into the kind of person Setsu is in quite a bit of detail. Setsu's stoic demeanor betrays an overly sensitive, emotional person who absolutely loves playing the shamisen yet in spite of that is weighed down by what it means to him on a personal level. The first episode taking place in a crowded, rowdy city as Setsu stumbles across help and does a makeshift concert as he's initially mocked - before being cheered by the crowd instead - is an intentional choice, showing someone constantly alienated due to the most important thing in his life being a traditional instrument that people have largely moved past, winning back the crowd with nothing but raw talent and emotion.

There are layers and nuances to Setsu's character arc and I'm honestly not entirely sure I can cover all of them; he's empathetic to the struggles other have while also being self-centered, a character flaw he does his best to overcome when made leader of his school's shamisen club. He gradually opens up with his feelings to others and tries to connect with his clubmates, awkward as those attempts may be; this attempt at connection extends to the point where his playing style shifts from outward confrontation with his clubmates to attempting to compromise when playing together. This extends to his attempts to no longer live under his grandfather's shadow; he increasingly moves back and forth between moving beyond his death and trying to have a style of his own, being told at one point that no two people will ever have the same playstyle, and that shamisen - despite the instrument's traditionalism - is no different from any other style of music, with modernity and traditionalism at once coexisting and at others outwardly confronting each other. Setsu's main obstacle in the story, as a result, is him increasingly both modernizing his playstyle and finding ways to become more expressive, while being pressured (by rather toxic guardian figures) to instead follow his grandfather's path. It's a compelling as hell character arc and beyond a shadow of doubt the series utilizes it to the fullest extent, having Setsu be a dynamic character who constantly changes both as a reaction to outside forces and while being introspective over himself and his grandfather, and I can't wait to read the manga to see where it goes beyond this.

The side characters are a largely likable bunch with a few outliers; Setsu's mom is a hatesink, being an abusive bitch who wants nothing more than to drag Setsu to living even deeper under his grandfather's shadow, and is the de facto closest thing the series has to an antagonist, culminating in a memorable and incredibly emotional last episode where...well, watch the show and see it for yourself. Taketo, the musician in the first episode who threatens to beat Setsu for spending time with his girlfriend, is a similar hatesink whose characterization strikes as rather shallow, being at one moment an irredeemable sack of human garbage and the next being a mild jerk who shares an apartment with him and even attends one of his performances later into the series. These are outliers to the rule, but it's worth mentioning them since their characterization left much to be desired and did get in the way of enjoying the show at times.

Thankfully, the rest of the cast are a fairly straightforward and likable bunch; Shuri and Yui doing their best to play the shamisen, both growing more confident outwardly, was a joy to see, with Yui having several standout character-driven moments late into the series that had me emotionally invested. Rai is the least developed of the bunch but his more flamboyant personality dragged a chuckle out of my humorless heart, particularly when teasing either Setsu or Kaito. Speaking of which, Kaito acts as a damn good foil to Setsu, similarly being someone who lost what he was best at and similarly pressured by a rather abusive family into diving into law, rather than him being into football. So far, I'd say he's my favorite of the club after Setsu, especially considering his more impassioned and emotional outbursts when cheering the team as opposed to Setsu's quieter demeanor. The group had a nice chemistry going on, and their interactions were pretty fun. Other characters I can similarly praise for decent characterization - Mai and her more tomboyish personality betraying an inferiority complex towards Setsu being an easily memorable example.

Artwork is detailed and rather pleasant to look at, with character designs being somewhat simplistic but having decent coloring, particularly during concert scenes and noteworthy flashbacks or Setsu's introspections. Animation is fluid from start to finish, with concert scenes looking absolutely stunning, facial expressions being dynamic and insanely fun to look at, and often neat visual cues and gags involving background occurrences that were pretty neat little touches to the overall feel of the series, at one point lighthearted and at other points somber. On backgrounds, they're absolutely stunning and add much to the series' visual style, with explosive presentation emphasizing the mood of given characters or even something as basic as characters walking through various locations, which are similarly lovingly detailed.

The most memorable thing about the series - Setsu's character arc aside - is the absolutely astounding sound design, ranging from the voiceacting, sound effects, transitions and ESPECIALLY the concert music, which all sounds absolutely amazing. Everything from the detailed animation of finger strokes, introspective monologues and consistency between how characters perceive the music against how it actually sounds is handled insanely well, with several noteworthy concerts being prominent examples of this scattered throughout the series.

The series, unfortunately, does come with another problem; it's incomplete as of the time of this writing, leaving us with an introduction to what I doubtlessly think is a well-written and expansive story down the line. Kodansha starting a proper translation of the manga is worthy of praise considering how underrated the series is, however, and here's to hoping for a season 2 down the line.

Thank you very much for reading, any and all feedback would be appreciated.