Back to Gsarthotegga's Profile Gsarthotegga's Profile

For better or worse, once Tolkien popularized the leading strand of fantasy, we've seen many elves in fiction. They're elegant, beautiful, and mysterious, living for hundreds or thousands of years. Usually, we explore fantasy through the eyes of a relatable human, and the elf is a supporting character. The typical story features a band of heroes looking to vanquish the dork lord's empire. The elf remains exotic and elusive even when joining the party in most cases. However, if we wanted to explore long stretches of time and understand how myths form around heroes over decades and centuries after their passing, then the elf would ... be better cast as the main character in our story. That's Sousou no Frieren's main appeal. Or is it...?

While writers have explored similar ideas with immortality in the novel format, the only anime of a similar nature that comes to mind is the nauseating Fumetsu no Anata e, which is only comparable in that both are fantasy, featuring a main character with a long lifespan and a tremendous amount of room for growth because these characters are oblivious to human affairs and enter all social interactions like they're on a tricycle with a safety helmet. Some reasonably believed this setup meant we were getting another cheap FnAe cry porn configuration (myself included), but the emotions on display are too stunted; there is understated emotion, as one would expect with a character-driven work emphasizing the passage of time and nostalgia, with Frieren maintaining a poker face like a champ and remaining a deer-in-head-lights doofus for most of the duration. Though trumpeted as a possible masterpiece, regrettably, SnF is marred by less-than-stellar execution. It has many elements undermining the work and leading to an identity crisis, and the source material is ambitious beyond its means. The series is held aloft by—blink, and it will go away—decent moments, character dynamics, and world building but carried mainly by Madhouse's excellent animation and technical chops.

Instead of showing us the adventures of the heroes so we'll have a connection to the party, the author takes the bold move of cutting right to the humdrum fanfare of the epilogue for an entire series. However, that will become a bait-and-switch once the author decides to flip back and forth between a walking simulator and battle shonen. Mary Sue—I mean, Frieren—will retrace the steps of her former party, treating us to these precious piecemeal memories. The journey of Frieren's new party will also reinforce what preceded it, exploring adventuring, friendship, heroism, and the like. Not only is the story's backdrop conventional, but the character designs are pervasively generic. The initial hero party looks like they were dragged out of a Z-grade isekai, not even fit for a bargain bin, whose only expressions consist of poker face (Frieren being the undisputed master), smug poker face (especially noticeable with Übel and Wirbel), Fern's trademark cheek-puff pout, the :3 face for the reactions to scenes that are supposed to be funny but aren't, then there are a few other characters, like Stark, with various comic relief faces. At least they put effort into making the handful of female characters as endearing as possible to generate extra revenue from anime pillows and figurines, so I guess it's not a total bust.

If SnF were a sci-fi, it would be an android-raising simulator, and, to quote Mark Zuckerberg, "The more of your data I collect, the more human I become." Though the genre we're engaging with is fantasy, the result is the same: to become sentient. Yes, Frieren may be 1,000 years old, but her understanding of human emotion, let alone her own, is so limited as to be shocking. Fern nurses her, pulls her out of bed, dresses, feeds, and caters to her every whim, like a mommy tending to her elflet. Yeah, it's in part an elfblob-raising simulator, if only to mine milquetoast humor and to be as on-the-nose as possible about Frieren's paradoxically childlike nature. Frieren is a kuudere whose name means "frozen." She's a forever-alone elfcel with no friends, is elftistic or on the elftism spectrum, and fails to be very relatable since she's over 1,000 years old (there's a reason why the 900-year-old loli is usually a supporting character...). Aside from a creeping bit of sarcasm to keep the series from being too one-note in its character dynamics, she's the ice-cube elfblob extraordinaire.

It is a surprise that we also get a kuudere sidekick. No, elves don't reproduce via binary fission like bacteria. Fern's sense of humor, competencies, occasionally temperamental nature, and dialogue vary from Frieren's. Still, when we spent about five episodes alone with these two, something appeared to be missing, and it was sticking out like a crooked painting on the wall with too much negative space. Then Stark rounds off the circus troupe to restore balance, and Fern completes her transition to cheek-puff pouting tsunderism, though it's a low-energy one due to her kuudere roots. Before that, it would be like reading a Sherlock Holmes novel, only to have two Watsons bumbling around and unable to progress the plot or figure out whodunnit.

Let's look at what makes Frieren tick: With development and wealth (or lifespan, as you can compare elephants and humans to "lower" animals), the correlation tends to be fewer children, and elves are a hyper-realization of this trend, marching toward extinction. In SnF, elves have no community and often go centuries without seeing another of their kind, leaving Frieren to seek human companionship or be forever alone—maybe both! Humans and elves are distinct and don't mix well—oil and water, for their lifespans and ways are too dissimilar.

From this odd arrangement arise the issues Frieren has with the "time differential" elves have in contrast to humans. She's out of sync with humans, so she doesn't fully understand how they or she feels until seemingly MUCH later... I mean, not even years—more like decades! It's like a latency issue in connecting with others, or she has a dial-up connection and takes 40 years to download 1 MB of emotional data. Of course, in the days of horribly slow internet and ancient hardware, it would say your download would take 40 years, but if you left the room, it might take 5 minutes. For Frieren, those absurd time estimations are accurate! The idea is that Frieren has had no long-term acquaintances, friends, or anything for close to 1,000 years other than one master-pupil relationship with a human, so she is sort of like an ignorant child in her emotional development, off in her little world. The script is written in such a way at first that neither the elves nor the humans seem to understand how the other perceives time and are so lacking in empathy that they don't attempt to imagine it. In most fantasy, there is usually a disconnect between humans and elves. The author of SnF chooses to multiply this aspect in a way that acts as both a compelling plot device and a dubious quirk upon which everything hinges, requiring a massive suspension of disbelief.

Frieren had a carefree millennium, hunting down grimoires, reading voluminously, and picking berries in the forest. Therefore, a charismatic Gary Stu needed to step forward to sweep Frieren off her feet and talk no jutsu her into the party, not unlike a dungeon master noticing the dedicated RPG nerd by the golden gleam of Cheetos dust and bringing her on as a wizard. It reminds me of a trash isekai called How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom. The MC in that series calls forward people with talent—any talent, no matter how useless it may seem—which leads to him recruiting several people into his inner circle. One is a fat guy who has eaten a lot of food from around the world. That character functions as a stand-in for an otaku who doesn't know anything other than anime, manga, and games, but his diverse gluttony becomes a "great talent" that leads to world recognition! Frieren is about the same because she spent 1,000 years attending to her hobby of finding and reading grimoires and has a curious "OMG, just like me!" appeal. Let me preempt all the "Nuh-uh! Frieren touches grass and travels" objections because her hunting around for grimoires is the medieval equivalent of a NEET stepping outside to pick up a preordered Nintendo game. The main difference here is sensuous elfblob wallpaper (meh, Deedlit is better, unless you're into grannies) and her hobby leading to her having godlike magical abilities.

Otherwise, we wouldn't get the sick battle shonen parts to relieve the monotony. Firstly, there's the foreplay that's the classic shonen "I know you are, but what am I?" talk and flex competition, the convenience of demons abiding by the honor system as justification for plot armor, and characters sitting around like dopes and monologuing instead of capitalizing on weaknesses that would end everything in under 5 seconds (looking at you, Fern). Secondly, a repetitive and mindless onslaught of Pew! Pew! Pew! IMMA FIRIN' MAH LAZER! X 263... "Hah, how pathetic you are, puny elfcel. Didn't you know I'm a gazillion times stronger than you'll ever be!?" "No, you're wrong! I was hiding my power level and tricking you the whole time! I'm infinity times stronger than you! Cope and seethe, demon!" *The continent explodes.* The thought process behind the fight scenes is so primitive that it's comparable to the apes learning to use bones as clubs in 2001: A Space Odyssey! Madhouse's talented staff made these scenes soar despite the source material's blatant shortcomings.

In the lazy tournament arc (you knew it was coming), the battles improve slightly, as the mages are using a wider range of magic styles (earth, water, fire, ice, etc.) and make effective use of the environment. Perhaps the battles lack substance, but they're oozing with more aesthetic and emotional weight than many character-driven scenes, sadly, even though there's a flirtation with profundity in how the author explores the cast. It's not that SnF HAS to have more elaborate action scenes, but one must wonder if it needs them in the first place. Having the occasional monster appear that gets vaporized is acceptable, but devoting entire arcs to a battle shonen format is not the author's forte. Case in point, this is ACTUAL dialogue interrupting a "heated" battle: "Let me lecture you on the history of magic." No. Stop it. I'd think the line were meant as a parody of shonen's verbosity and constant over-explaining of every detail in the middle of battle if not for the author's horrendous track record with comedy and adherence to dull shonenisms.

The series tries to be a jack of all trades, and the result is always being a master of none. As a fantasy, SnF does manage to be more organic than usual, for there are many innocuous spells like generating tea and other novelties, as you would think magic probably started and continued with many practical uses other than combat; there are neat touches like the humans acquiring flying magic rather than creating it themselves, thus not being able to modify it for lack of fully understanding the process. There's a hint of structure to the magic reminiscent of real-world disciplines, plenty of trial and error, and the equivalent of a magical arms race. If most series with magic have an occult vibe, SnF wants to present it as a science, though it loses some of the mystique. Unfortunately, the fantasy is too generic to be fantastical, too sluggish to be exciting, and too strewn with fetch quests, chores, and tonal clashes to be consistently atmospheric. For the fantasy genre, atmosphere is crucial, but, unfortunately, this aspect remains subpar even in spite of composer Evan Call's best efforts to set the scene with das fluten duten medieval fantasy tuten.

Although the series initially appears to be a slice of life with glacial pacing, the author is afraid to slow down to the extent required and self-consciously believes he'll bore someone, so he starts peppering in action and attempts at comedy. The humor is largely stock or facepalmish, like making fun of Stark's dinky (maybe we'll get a fart joke next), "hahaha, the 1000-year-old can't dress herself," or the agonizingly repeated (8 times and counting) mimic vore jokes where Frieren hungrily hurls herself inside the maw of a monster. Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Elfcel Grandmas in a Dungeon? Because that's one thirsty cougar trying to show off that she's single. Where's the "deep, contemplative, and mature"™ bluster now? There are a few well-timed humorous moments, but only a handful feel like they bring the characters closer together or have any depth, the most obvious being the surprisingly great "boob cloud" scene, representing one of the few episodes where melancholy, character bonding, and backstory were all integrated seamlessly as an ode to both friendship and adventuring. Though there are highlights and decent moments throughout, the emotion and drama are similarly hit or miss, diluted by the series' clashing elements and identity crisis, cementing the jack-of-all-trades syndrome.

With all the context in place, I'll return to Frieren's initial 10-year journey to clear the final boss, the most precious event that she must relive and cherish, the duration being no more than spit in the ocean next to her long life, representing the only time she has had anything resembling friends to bond with: I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Once the credits should have been rolling, Frieren left to pick up all the Nintendo games in her backlog, which took about 50 years, leaving her companions aged and withered. She's like, "Why are you guys so old and uggo? I don't understand time, aging, and complicated stuff like that. X)" It would appear Frieren has had her first taste of regret, for the beloved Gary Stu soon passes, and she concludes that she never got to know her party as much as she would like.

Hence, we embark on a quest for Frieren to track down the ghost of Gary Stu. The rest of her old party says, "Frieren, it's so sad that Gary Stu died, but we're still alive. Why don't you get to know us? :)" "Because you guys are ugly bastards, lol! X)" "Oh, right... sorry. :(" It turns out she got to know her party better than she thought but was too much of a dope to realize it until the flashbacks were cued. Another essential thing to bring up concerns Gary Stu: Despite being handsome, competent, and renowned, there's no evidence he ever had a romantic relationship, got married, or had kids... hell, he's not even a cat gentleman! He was pining away into old age, wishing Frieren would notice him again. There's even the implication that the cursed item Gary Stu kept for Frieren for several decades caused gravity to compress him into a lawn gnome, further emphasizing his devotion!

At first, the story appeared to be more about employing an elf's lifespan to explore myth formation, deconstruct the hero's journey, and heighten the emotional response, and... it does all of that to an extent. Still, what starts as an examination of lofty and ambitious ideas gives way to an undignified focus on the undying love between two forever-alone individuals. Nonetheless, when boiled down, we're getting the same old teen or 20-something having their first-time romance, flecked with equal parts lost and forbidden love. Hey, many people like that, and it works. However, when you consider the author is simply reframing the same Lonely Hearts Club formula with a fantasy veneer, depicting true love™ between a human incel ghost who died at an old age with his love unrequited and an ageless beauty and coded virgin elfcel of 1,000 years, what should be a natural and compelling process is rendered as what I can only refer to as "romanticized derangement," upending what should have been a profound exploration of adventure, camaraderie, and heroism.

What do you get when an anime studio combines cooking with dungeon crawling? Well, it's like those awful gross-out TV series where people compete to see who can eat the most cockroaches, only the author has standards, so the grub is made more palatable, with the adventure adding an old-school RPG appeal to cash-in on the popularity of fantasy and isekai. There's also a dash of iyashikei: the dungeon's tension dissolves as our characters' mouths begin to water because the place is brimming with delicacies. Everything can be eaten, so we'll of course have to watch our not-so-lovable characters devour everything in sight, like fatmericans ... at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Episode 1: eat a monster... Episode 2: eat a new monster... Episode 3: eat a new bigger monster... and so on...

The series doesn't do much to ease the repetition and monotony. The characters are one-dimensional and obnoxious. The world is generic, save for homely—I mean, "quirky"—character art relative to other anime. There's hardly any plot to speak of. A short, often poorly animated action scene acts as part of the meal preparation, and the revival mechanic sucks all tension out of the series. The tedious comedy consists of slapstick dungeon crawls gone wrong and replaces the typical elf-dwarf racial grievances with the former being a picky eater and the latter having an iron stomach and corrupting the youth into munching on bug burgers and assorted slop.

DM has the depth of tuning into a cooking infomercial at 2 AM but combined with the mechanics and flow of a grindy old-school RPG, effectively merging the worst of both worlds. You can't live without food, but it's only a means to an end. The shallow emphasis on food is mirrored by the excessive amounts of world building. World building is supplementary and can enhance the experience like a spice when it's well balanced with the rest of the elements of a series. DM's world is developed through various segments of dialogue and lore, what we learn about the enemies and the dungeon's morphing ecology, and, most importantly, what-should-be-nasty food made to dazzle the senses via glossy filters. Effectively, watching the calorie-free DM is like eating a stack of banana peels instead of bananas.

When it comes to food and health, there's the phrase that can be flipped to indicate an emphasis on eating for the sake of pleasure or eating with quality of life improvements in mind: living to eat versus eating to live. I'm reminded of that when I realize the main characters are either exploring the dungeon to eat or they're eating to explore the dungeon; while it should be the latter, it, sadly, feels mostly like the former, resulting in the show coming across as a hollow gourmet showcase, albeit an unusual one, filled with parasites, bugs, sea monsters, chimeric entities, and other not-so-tasty-looking varmints. Our heroes' descent into the dungeon to save Laios' sister is more of an afterthought, lending the series an unintentional dark comedy vibe as the party goofs off and prepares tasty dishes like they don't have a care in the world; meanwhile, his sister is being digested by a dragon! Yes, they're taking it slow to improve their chances of saving Laios' sister, but the tone feels off, the scenes are badly paced, and there's no focus.

DM represents another no-brainer choice as an addition to Netflix's repertoire to the point that it's incredible this isn't an original series. Quit eating nutritious food because cow farts are bad. You'll have to eat bugs, soy patties, lab-printed slop, and wash it down with Bill Gates' patented poop water. That's basically what DM presents, only there's a slapped-on veneer of familiar monsters and anime culinary magic to make it appealing. Okay, DM makes the food look good, but, unfortunately, the characters were beaten black and blue with an ugly stick. You'd think that if we have to watch people eat bugs, then adorable little moeblobs would be hoovering them up, but instead we get goofy and drunken faces, Dumbo ears, big honkin' Tezuka noses, midgets, furries, and bodies with odd geometries as shapely as a donkey's ass. While I wouldn't say the manga is the most appealing thing to look at, the Trigger adaptation renders the warts in high-definition color and motion. What we have here might function as a great tech demo for a game, but it's too superficial and ghastly to appreciate as storytelling.

Metallic Rouge has a scant amount of exposition, and there's the possibility of Bones getting twisty, so it's challenging to tell where the series might go. However, based on the poor execution and boring sci-fi cliches, probably straight into the trash compactor with all the oh-so-unfortunate androids. There's not a single compelling hook to make one interested in the story from the first episode other than the promise of gradual world building; the second is an action romp, "chemistry builder," and quest through the Martian desert; the third develops the situation of the androids and their yearning for freedom from humanity.

There's the typical bit: ... Androids forced to follow Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics and whine about wanting freedom from performing chores, aside from a few special androids (special needs in the case of Rouge) who aren't beholden to the laws. Just as horror inspired by Lovecraft would benefit by not name dropping Cthulhu and other cosmic critters, sci-fi would have more organic development by not explicitly referencing Asimov. One doesn't need to reference old sci-fi novels to indicate androids can't attack humans; it's old hat, lazy, and widespread. Everyone gets it without a drawn-out explanation. If anything, it doesn't need to be mentioned because why would androids be designed that could attack humans, except for special purposes, like war, policing, crime, etc.?

The android rebel group makes MR feel like the proletariat versus the bourgeoisie, written by someone who learned about these ideas from comic books. If they're just meant for labor, why even program them to want freedom, other than for an easy boo-hoo discrimination plot that we've seen thousands of times? It's like the people who designed androids were intentionally trying to make them a pain in the ass. Androids are supposed to be T-O-O-L-S! Don't give me this "YOU'RE NOT MY DAD!" attitude and babble about toasters having a free will.

MR might be salvageable if it were a more grounded cyberpunk series with a detective or crime angle, but it consists of sentai-armor slug fests amongst the "Immortal Nine," which sounds like a name a child came up with for a JRPG fanfic. The fight scenes, where all the budget is showered upon, are flashy but without depth. The backdrops and set pieces are adequate enough—sometimes imposing or grand—but standard for the genre. Even by episode 3, the budget is declining, and the series will probably continue to be inconsistent and unspectacular.

There will likely be many messy, under-cooked, and aborted plot threads everywhere, such as the android looking for his nectar fix, which seemed to just be a "compelling" way to introduce a drug that was important to the story; the idea being to paint the world as unfair and arbitrary because the substance appears to be scarce or rationed. "Those mean humans are not only forcing androids to work, but they're also failing to provide them with solid health care!" Can humans ever get a break? It might only be one episode, but the relationship between Rouge and Viola was rushed and non-existent, leaving the first episode without any substance, and the often touted chemistry between the two MCs isn't a whole lot better thus far. The forced drama between the two MCs, such as their cat fight and breakup, has no weight. To indicate the maturity of the characters, the ordeal started over chocolate.

There's a bland westerny feel to the character designs that seems right at home with Netflix, but the two mains are Lycoris Recoil-esque moeblobs and low-tier ones at that! Rouge has memory issues, acts like a 5-year-old, and has the defining trait of chomping on chocolate bars; Naomi is sassy, an airhead, and lacks much else. MR is slop, which is brilliantly displayed by Bones squishing their moeblobs onto the cover, inhaling junk food.

Under Ninja is a weird series within a gritty urban ninja fiction niche that combines semi-realistic character dynamics and setting with absurdist humor and action sequences, bolstered by familiar ninjitsu tricks and advanced technology, like invisibility suits, high-tech shurikens, drones, satellite beam weapons, etc. UN creates its offbeat world with non-linear storytelling, a Samurai Champloo hip-hopish aesthetic, and a conspiratorial hidden society of feuding ninja factions in modern-day Japan that are everywhere and yet nowhere. The series does a superb job of building up the mystique of the ninja organization's limitless potential domestically and internationally.

There was a book about the labyrinthine Japanese underground tunnel systems ... and why the government built them, and that is alluded to here, along with speculation about the bubble economy burst, hidden snuff films on public TV, and numerous other subplots that piggyback off of real-life conspiracies. Incorporated are also light amounts of social commentary, mostly about bullying and cyclical violence, which ties in nicely with the ninja selection process. The series is also more political than is average for an anime in a real-world geopolitical way, as the ninja organization was fractured by Japan's loss during WWII, with one side refusing peace as a result, manipulating Japan and the world from within the shadows. A lot is going on, as you see things from the eyes of the organization from various ranks, as well as foreigners, high school students, and drunks lounging around the apartment building.

More than anything else, it's probably the bizarre humor and heavy doses of vulgarity and crudeness which seal the deal and make the series standout: A Russian wannabe-ninja lopping off wieners because of a presumed hidden message in street graffiti, a guy farting through a tube to launch a dart, plenty of comic relief centered around men stealing bras and putting them on like it's some mystical object, a talking cat riding a motorcycle, etc. Until we got to the school arc, the author wanted to emphasize unappealing facial features, moles, missing teeth, pimples, etc., which is probably not helped by this adaptation being subpar and having mediocre animation and largely hideous art. Yet even the least sordid environment, the school, has the prettiest girl in the class picking her nose in public. The title "Under Ninja" simultaneously alludes to an underground ninja organization and acknowledges the scuzzy, low-brow atmosphere the series goes for.

Then there are the scenes where the fat crosseyed ninja in a filthy wifebeater trots onto a schoolyard, manboobs flopping in the breeze, and offers to pump his breast milk with a hand pump to children, petitioning them to lap it up straight from the source. Creepy and off-putting content like this is the kind of thing you might see on a trashy comedy show at 2 AM during a bout of insomnia, leaving you wondering if you just had a nightmare the next day. No one else around you can confirm or deny what you saw and will think you're a tin-foil-hat schizo for mentioning it. That's my impression of such a revolting scene, but it exists in UN. An unexpected "twist" involving this character decreases the grossness, but the mere presence is among the best examples of the author's bizarre humor.

The characters are quirkier than usual, and it's an improvement over watching the same colorless archetypes so common to anime. You have one ninja who is a ventriloquist using a teddy bear, but his lines, acting, and the contrast between his normal voice and the "bear's" are hilarious. The MC is one of the better examples I can think of when it comes to deadpan liars and bullshitters. Suzuki has an old man complex; her sadistic glee as an editor is also priceless. The talking cat is a regular support character and a sassy, chatty motorcycle! While these are some of the most notable characters, even the most minor or "normal" characters are intriguing due to the character dynamics and non-linear presentation.

UN seems charmless and crass at first, and it often is the latter, but if you can get past the initial disgust, there's a unique grimy charm. Some of the banter has an SoL feel, and the non-linear plot adds to that because the importance or meaning of many scenes seems uncertain until we connect them with later events. The stitch job keeps things interesting, but a few parts can be confusing, and it took me a while to figure out who is who with a couple of characters. Paying close attention helps, as I've occasionally heard that the anime adaptation takes the non-linear nature of the manga and chops it up even more than the Russian ninja-wannabe chops up wieners.

Feast of Amrita is a prequel to the surreal horror film Aragne: Sign of Vermillion, seeing a return of the oppressive apartment complex as the primary set piece and neatly tying the two together with an ending sequence that readapts the opening of Aragne, where the protagonist finds her "dream apartment." While this prequel fails to rehabilitate Aragne or ameliorate its flaws and deficiencies, Amrita might make that frustrating experience more understandable. True to most memorable horror, the sound design and atmosphere are the dominant aspects of the film.

Aragne, like Amrita, had compelling imagery, but the CGI was frequently rough, and some parts suffered from ... drunken camera work. The camera in Amrita is more restrained and cinematic in its exploration of the setting, and the animation is an improvement by using rotoscoped characters composited onto CGI backdrops. There's occasionally a mixture of CGI with the character movement, such as the eyes in a few scenes, but it's subtler. The frame rate is low, except for the chase sequence in the trailer, and the dialogue doesn't appear to be in sync with the characters' mouths much of the time. The film is far from perfect, but Amrita represents a decent bridge between the train wreck that was Aragne and whatever future project Sakamoto will work on. Yes, several horror anime films and series are better than Amrita, but Sakamoto appears to be the only true horror auteur in the industry.

Aside from smoothing out the incomprehension prevalent in Aragne and general visual tweaks, the most vital improvement is that the character designs and movements are far less robotic, lending the film a warmer contrast to the cold, dark, and gray 3D environments. As expected, with the short running length of 46 minutes, the three characters have simple dialogue to indicate their connection as friends and drive the minimalist plot forward. They lack distinct personalities, but they don't require them. The director only needed to emphasize their pre-existing bond in a struggle against cosmic horror entities. We're shown many disturbing sights in a dimension with a unique ecology. The scenes are grand in scale and call to mind the paintings of the Polish painter Zdzisław Beksiński, who depicted grim landscapes, perversions of lifeforms that resemble humans or other familiar creatures, cosmic entities, and body horror. Incidentally, Beksiński experimented with 3D models toward the end of his life, so had he made a film, it might have looked like this.

The film starts in a cliche manner typical of most horror films, but the reference to a Calabi-Yau space quickly becomes the core theme of the horror; the only thing one needs to know about this idea for the context of the film is that it applies to geometry and theoretical physics, and the reference succinctly details the complex structure and multiple dimensions of the film's world. The process of what happens is shown to us rather than told, and while one should end the film understanding the essence of what happened, an aura of mystery leaves it challenging to explain. Hence, Sakamoto strikes the right balance of being mysterious yet comprehensible.

Cosmic horror tends to be bleak and nihilistic, and with Amrita being a prequel that sets up Aragne, we know this can't end well. I've seen a few of these "Sisyphean" horror films that are repetitious, involving time loops or alternate dimensions folding in on each other, acting as an existential prison the characters hope to escape, but the experience tends to be banal. This film has an appropriate amount of mixed emotions to make the struggle meaningful, as the main character has a determination that is brilliantly shown in a simple but effective way, detailing the pain of an untold number of cycles in moments. Even the eventual capitulation has a surprising grace, elevating the characters above inconsequential meat bags whose only purpose is for the viewer to revel in the thrill of splatter.

(Aside from spoilers for AoT, there are also spoilers for Code Geass and Muv-Luv Alternative.)

One of the more amusing aspects of 2023 for anime is that Vinland Saga S2 and Attack on Avengers: The Final Season Part 3 (for real this time) were lovingly crafted and presented to us by MAPPA, both having a semi-messianic overtone, and they're like two sides of one bipolar coin: On one side, you get the idealistic "I have no enemies" kumbaya song and dance session; on the flip side, you get the edgy "I have a metric fuckton of enemies" genocide jamboree ("I never wanted to grab a knife, ... I swear!"). For the record, I'd consider myself a fan up until S3 P2, but the series gradually got worse after the basement reveal. While the production quality dropped because Wit handed the series over to our dear friends at MAPPA, the more egregious issue lies with the source material, for the writing also depreciated in quality.

AoT (not AoA) was reliant on a mysterious plot, an energetically animated medieval world with steampunk elements, charismatic and unpredictable monsters with a wide range of appearances, and suspense-filled action. The characters were never the series' strong suit, but they sufficed to carry the plot along. However, once the plot is unraveled, all we have left is spectacle, served out like a steaming heap of capeshit caserole. By the time of AoA, the characters never or barely develop and remain shallow, rife with melodramatic shortcutting that results in an unlikely alliance so hollow as to be cobbled out of nothing, the ideas and themes are preachy and clumsy, and there is no weight behind the mad race to save the world or the mind-numbing action sequences we have to sit through to get to the dissatisfying conclusion. The epic proportions of the finale cannot conceal the ending's shortcomings, even if we were graced with a more consistent studio than MAPPA that had an unlimited budget.

Yes, the characters are nothing special, but Isayama also puts no effort into making us feel any emotion about the "vicious cycle." The Marleyans, Eldian diaspora, and everyone else are impossible to have any investment in other than main characters like Annie or Reiner. If the main cast is so-so, then how can you expect me to give a damn when a bunch of flat newbies and faceless extras emerge? I don't sympathize with their plight because there is never any reason for me to be concerned about them other than "OMG EREN IS GOING TO GENOCIDE THEM IT'S SO SAD." No, it's not. Who cares? The drama of AoA is too poor, and what should be peak tragedy is instead comedy.

We've also been seeing everything from the eyes of the Eldians and discovering all of the secrets of the world alongside them as if we were one of them. The brief glimmers we get of the lands outside Paradis have no substance whatsoever. Isayama thinks he can say something is sad or bad and cue violin or dissonant music and the audience will be transfixed, but it's not that simple. AoT is nationalistic in it's framing but has a dormant internationalism that becomes the focus once Team Avengers arrive on the scene, and it doesn't work. Code Grease was more consistent in terms of perspective, which is why, despite many flaws, it's less of a failure in that respect.

You might have noticed many people seem to favor Floch over Team Avengers. Floch is the most fervent extension of what we had seen prior in AoT and his desperation is the only thing resembling emotion in the sterile end to this franchise. What is Team Avengers doing? Risking life and limb to save the world? Why? At least it makes sense for characters like Reiner, Annie, Gabi, Falco, etc., who came from outside of the wall and have loved ones in Marley. But it doesn't for the rest of Team Avengers, who didn't even know about the rest of the world until a few years ago and immediately put aside all past differences to come together to save the world, even though most of the world is gearing up to destroy their homeland, and their fate hangs in the balance. To use a hyperbolic comparison, it'd be like if you were a scrawny wimp, and a big bully was trying to kill you, but your friend jumps in to kill him instead, but you think this is going too far because "killing bad," so you strike your friend in the back of the head to knock him out and now both of you are at the mercy of the bully. Stunning and brave. The entire script and every character decision basically boils down to "genocide bad," and "it's the right thing to do," which means a large chunk of the character motivation is a platitude.

There were a lot of compelling directions the ending could have taken, but Eren has too much power through paths, and the ending becomes predictable; instead of going with his stupid ripoff god mode ending with a one-sided genocide and Team Avengers black and white morality play, Isayama should have furthered the idea that the titans were becoming outdated, so there could have been some tension and perhaps varied alliances that MADE SENSE instead of a braindead Team Avengers action flick. By this point, I think Isayama just wanted to throw in the towel and was on autopilot. Additionally, the criticisms of a partial rumbling (meaning against Marley and their military capacity, primarily) I've seen aren't all that strong, and it's definitely better than what Eren chose (or allowed to happen, rather). He even could have ended the titan curse afterward, most likely by sacrificing himself and getting cucked by Jean and Mikasa. I initially thought they'd go in a direction like that, as it makes for a potentially more complex situation. Honestly, anyone who wants to dispute that needs to explain how a clownshoes battle between Team Avengers and the Genocide Titan is better.

I can't see how Isayama thought this ending worked. I can imagine him planning it out in his head: "Duuuuh... what do I do? Oh, I know, when I went to university, I remember having so much fun thinking about the trolley problem. I was like, 'I'm so smart, reasonable, and sophisticated, and I'm making decisions about who's going to die! Awesome... OHHHH! So on one side of the tracks, I'll place the Eldians, and on the other side, there will be everyone else!" Then Isayama takes his toy trolley and runs over all of the people on one side. SQUISH SQUASH SPLAT! Plus, messaging about "cyclical violence" (omg the Tree of Titan at the end) and the "human condition" or something something; oh, and have a bird fly overhead that symbolizes freedom. The symbolic potential is so beautiful and not a laughable cliche at all. "Wait... OH... MAYBE EREN IS BIRD!!!" Eren: SQUUUUAAAAAWWWK! Okay, we're on track for the ending.

Once I saw the epilogue, it was confirmed that Eren didn't think things through so well. There are still people alive in the world, but, by the end, it felt like Eren looped the tracks before the trolley got there, put on his clown makeup, hijacked the trolley and donned the conductor's cap, then rode that bad boy all the way around and SQUISHED EVERYONE, Eldian and non-Eldian alike, honking the horn and laughing all the way, saying, "I have not come to bring peace, but a trolley." I mean, it's like a really outlandish dark comedy, but the result is one side says, "Eren, did great things for his people, so Eren good, even though all of his people died in the end LOL!" and the other side says, "Eren genocided the whole world, so Eren bad. I hate mean edgy incel Eren. I have no enemies!" Eren's plan actually was just terrible all around, never could have worked, was proven not to work, and Eren is a moron who got freedumb rather than freedom. *Cue shot of Eren birb soaring through the sky, flying away, finally free, splatting into a windmill.*

Eren has the ability to 100% genocide the world, which is what he says he will do, but he refuses to take away the freedom of his friends, even though he could stop them in their tracks, so they conclude, "Wait... Maybe Eren wants us to stop him!" That's dumb. Eren's voice booms like God: "I'll take the freedom from the rest of the world to be free, but I'll let you have the freedom to choose your freedom or their freedom or something lol. So basically you can come over here and kill me and stop my plans. But only because I give you the chance to do so." That's extra dumb. They defeat Eren after he has genocided 80% of the world. Presumably, the 100% was what Eren would have done if Team Avengers hadn't banded together to defeat him, but his hoped for plan was that Team Avengers would cast aside their differences and stop him, becoming heroes to the world! 100% would be a logically consistent choice for the Eldians, but it's a boring and easy choice, the writing of various scenes doesn't mesh, and Isayama has already dishonored his family enough as is.

Isayama chastises the idea of a 100% genocide with Floch's goon squad and Eren before the big reveal; he soft-peddles the approach to Eren's 80% genocide, so it's sort of not that bad; after all, to quote Armin, joyful tears streaming down his face, "Looool! Thanks for becoming a mass murderer for our sake, bro!" Then Isayama picks an ending that suggests only the 100% genocide actually works, but Eren chose not to do that because he'd feel guilty... but not too guilty to carry out the 80% or choose another plan, because he thinks it will be good for Eldians or Paradis or whatever—who even knows what the savior complex self-insert for Isayama really thinks and why Eren did what he did? How am I to know that he didn't kill 80% of the world because Mikasa said he was family instead of bf? The writing is so messy and awful, you might as well assume that, making the outcome even more laughable.

There doesn't seem to be any backing for the Team Avengers are now world heroes idea to work at all, and it's a pipe dream that will again lead to the subjugation or destruction of the Eldians, as is revealed in the epilogue. If you stop at 80%, then the Eldians are still heavily outnumbered, have lost the titan curse, nothing is stopping everyone else from building up their military again (and plenty of weapons likely still exist), and there is ample reason for the remaining 20% to TRULY HATE the Eldians now: No, they are not going to transfer their hatred for the Eldians to the big bad Parasitic Jaeger, which is the initial implication. Yes, the Eldians have a negative history with everyone else, but a large part of the "vicious cycle" is that Marley was using the titans to establish dominion over the world and the Eldians were serving as a proxy (titan zerg rush and special ops) for the imperialistic Marleyans, and if the Eldians were to lose the titan curse and NOT genocide 80% of the world, most people would probably not even be that concerned about the Eldians anymore, and the more pressing issue would be Marley having colonized or pressured the various countries to play water boy. If Eren were going to allow Team Avengers to thwart the 100% plan, even preferring they do, then he should have picked a different plan. Does this even make sense as writing? Isayama wanted to "write something painful," and he has succeeded if he's including painfully bad or funny.

Isayama's "twist ending" also seems reminiscent of Code Grease's ending; Goro Taniguchi, who directed Code Grease, was also a co-director for Gasaraki, and he partially recycled the ending of that series for Code Grease. Lelouch becomes the ultimate supreme tyrant and takes over the world, then he stages his own death. The result is the fracturing of the evil empire and everyone joining hands and world peace and John Lennon's Come Together plays for eternity. No one could possibly think that will work or is a good idea, but Taniguchi chooses to show idyllic scenes and cuts on a happy note to suggest it's a panacea. Nevertheless, even if Taniguchi's ending is idealistic and more of a symbolic passing of the torch, there's no reason to expect the world would be much worse off. Lelouch dismantled the empire, person by person... maybe things will be better. Maybe an empire of a similar caliber will rise in its place. But it shouldn't be any worse, right? At least it's ambiguous in comparison.

The true failing is that Isayama came out of the closet to announce his undying love for the Muv-Luv Alternative VN, then proceeded to rip-off sizable chunks of it like he wanted everyone to know about it. The titans are similar to the BETAs (except there's a "No, John! You are the demons!" plot twist), and the tree with the pool of water and the parasite also has a parallel in MLA. These choices are reasonable enough for influence and a way of framing the story, and Isayama's AoT went in a different enough direction overall for it to be acceptable much of the time. Yet the more I look into the similarities of MLA and AoT, the more I realize it would take an entire review to list everything Isayama lifted or reincorporated—whether it's 3DMG, paths (he made some of his own variations that muddled the story), numerous scenes, structural elements, character arcs, etc. Even 80% of humanity dying is the number given at the end of MLA, but Eren is the one who causes the devastation instead of another source. There's a fantastic meaningful coincidence to be found in MLA: Among the many things Isayama lifted from this other work, the tree in MLA was called "Japanese Hackberry," and if you remove the "berry" part, then we have a perfect description of Isayama!

Season 2 got off to a rocky start with the episode 0 special, having largely unimpressive production values and only serving to establish various supporting characters who didn't yet have enough of a stake in the story to be compelling on their own or are more reliant on dynamics with other characters. From what I've heard, the problem here is an adaptation dilemma. Once we get to episode 5, Rudy meets Fitz, but we already know this is Sylphy in disguise. In the light novel series, Sylphy's identity and the events of episode 0 are revealed later on. Since this is a visual adaptation with ... voice acting, Sylphy's identity would be obvious either way, and Rudy comes off as a dolt for not noticing; there are so many clues (on top of the direct admission) given to the audience that one might question whether or not his brain shrank from having a bad case of sad sack syndrome in the beginning. I think it would have been better to place episode 0 in the middle of this season, because while it's pretty obvious "Fitz" is Sylphy, it still might be smoother, with some of the anime-only audience having forgotten about the character, though the charade couldn't last long.

Once we get to the magic school arc, we're reacquainted with familiar faces and plenty of new characters, but the events fly by quickly to sometimes jarring effect, leaving many characters cast aside or their roles minimized. I'd assume a large amount of the core cast is meant to be introduced here, with Rudy and "Fitz," of course, getting most of the screen time, and being the one part of the story that feels well-developed. The conclusion of the budding friendship is a satisfying one, but it makes Rudy come across as an even bigger doofus—it's like those scenes in crappy teen films where the crush pines after another character, then finally takes his/her glasses off, and the crush is like, "Wow, I never noticed how cute you were until you took your glasses off," except way more blockheaded.

Both the initial adventuring arc and the school arc are slower in pacing than previous seasons, and there is less of a clear direction, as Rudy mills about on adventures, licks his wounds that developed due to the climax of the last season, works to overcome his depression, gets lost in the library at school, and... COPES WITH ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION? Wow, don't think I've seen this in anime before. There's the occasional "loser can't get it up" joke in a few anime, but it becomes a primary character motivation to cure his ED. Is he going to school to, ostensibly, solve the teleportation mystery, or is that just a front to puff the magic dragon?

MT is one of the few isekai series I've seen that feels especially "novelistic." Although many other isekai and fantasy series are based on lengthy source material, few of them feel as vast and lived-in as this world, with characters constantly revolving in and out and going on their own journeys and occasionally being crosscut to. The teleportation magic facilitates this grander feel of a jumbled world we're slowly piecing together. Of course, this season has a school setting for 2/3rds of the runtime, which, while less generic than your typical anime, does numb the fantastical aspects for a while. Quite a few complaints about this season appear myopic, as any long-running series will typically have segments that detach themselves from core plot developments or slow down to explore characters or other subplots. In that respect, I feel much of the criticism here in relation to past seasons is similar to the reception between S1 and S2 of Made in Abyss, with the latter one taking a bit of a respite from the main goal of S1 and fixating on a single environment.

I suppose it wouldn't be MT without a bit of controversy to inspire an order of white knights to chivalrously defend the honor of fair 2D maidens from the wretch who is Rudeus Greyrat—actually, a 30 or 40-something fat coomer with an anime pillow and a whole shelf of plastic grills, which feeds into the protestation. Much of the criticism amounting to being upset that the author or staff didn't "denounce" the character in some way for his misdeeds, or "the MC does things that are not nice and that's against my morals and I feel dirty when I try to self-insert."

Amusingly, there is a part where a running gag has Rudy groping a beast girl, and he is immediately slashed in the face for his effort—he is punished. The scene is meant to be humorous, but there are a number of instances where he is not punished, which are meant to elicit laughter as well, and the actions on display can be insensitive about touchy subjects. The dichotomy I've presented here tends to be the issue many have with the series, even alongside other more valid critiques. Before we even get to anything controversial, I was already in disagreement with Rudy for choosing to blame the beast girls over Zanoba. But he has his reasons, and if that is a flaw, it's a deliberate character flaw, not a writing flaw, which should be extended to the controversial moments as well. "Character did thing I disagree with and didn't get spanked" is not an example of "bad writing." It's an example of having a spanking fetish.

There's always been at least a touch of self-insertion in stories. The reader/viewer wants to emulate a hero, and imagines being in his shoes, no matter how stinky those shoes might be, and even if the self-inserter's feet are too petite to ever hope to fit. A good role model is a fine choice for an MC, but, every once in a while, it can be refreshing to follow a rogue or someone who falls short of the ideal in some way. There are stories that present villains, anti-heroes, or less than savory characters, but no matter how cruel their acts, they are almost always sterilized in a way that is deemed "appropriate" for the audience. Slaughtering a whole village might find an audience nodding along (Askeladd and Thorfinn are so COOOOOL—WHOA!!!), but forcefully grabbing a breast here and there without reprisal is 1... 2... 3... REEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Even if different sexual norms and slavery and the like may be acceptable or tolerated to varying degrees in this isekai world, it's expected that the MC cannot be immoral or amoral (unless it's "sanitized" or "punished"), indifferent, or follow a "when in Rome" approach. No, the character must be the quintessential avatar to self-insert for "I'm so moral and you should be too" power fantasies. Oops, Rudy didn't even end slavery. I doubt the ED was an easy swallow either. Honestly, I sometimes feel like anime invented self-insert syndrome: "Time to woo a moeblob with my protagonistic charisma... oh, crap, my magical scepter just went floppy. No wonder I'm depressed ;_;." It's like a passive observer's version of method acting, but Rudy keeps going off script! He went way off script with the hilarious kidnapping subplot, even bringing in his best bud (totally not his childhood girlfriend...) for advice, and everything is resolved in a neat, cavalier fashion. He's actually more worried about his panty shrine being revealed than the kidnapping scandal! For all the "this went too far" commentary, the solid execution of the writing and timing of the whole event is completely overlooked.

There's no reason to think MT was ever a story of "redemption," let alone redemption on the terms of the audience or any individual member of it. There might be shades of that and the character undeniably improves in many ways, but he was a pervert and of likely "low moral caliber" in his past life, and there was no reason to ever think that wouldn't carry over once he was isekaied. I mean, he has a shrine with a pair of panties he prays to, constituting a "perverted otaku (is this an oxymoron?) quasi-religion." Old habits die hard, often not at all. CAN a total pervert change his ways and become "redeemed"? Sure, I guess, but that's not this story—well, it's probably not, but I'll leave that to the LN readers to decide, as we still have a ways to go.

I see MT as presenting more of a contrast between the activity of the isekai world and the passivity of the modern world, ironically enough, explored through the escapist fantasy that is the norm of the period. Yeah, Rudy was a fat loser in his past life. Meanwhile, plenty of other people either had a more advantageous position in some way, a better temperament, or were able to overcome their problems by comparison, leading them to be less of a fat loser. But it's not like much of the world is structured in such a way as to incentive not being a fat loser. Rudy is portrayed as intelligent and capable, which suggests his untapped potential even in the fat loser dimension. Other than for the ultra-wealthy, the isekai world here is not one that allows for much escapism and running away. True, Rudy is born to a decent family, had good connections as a result, and the isekai advantage... but I reckon he would have done fine with a more paltry isekai life—it just wouldn't be one nearly as enjoyable to watch.

Heavenly Delusion is compelling for its atmosphere and setting, and the world building is delivered in a slow, mysterious fashion, with two contrasting storylines eventually converging. Kiruko and Maru roam a devastated Japan, both searching for clues about their past and looking for the elusive "Heaven." Along the way, they have to scrounge for resources, like canned food, clean water, items to sell, etc. The world is filled with roaming bandits and a grotesque array of maneaters, sporting fish-like designs that Junji Ito would appreciate. But they still manage to find time to bond during their downtime, giving the work a kind of grounded slice ... of life appeal. At first, it's hard to decipher whether this is a world influenced primarily by sci-fi or if there's a fantasy overlap, and the enigmatic nature reminded me of speculative sci-fi works such as Stalker/Roadside Picnic but combined with a more adventurous post-apocalyptic film like Mad Max.

The other storyline of HD is a little sparser, but the group of children being cloistered in a sterile lab setting with a fake outside that functions as a garden is reminiscent of Shinsekai Yori and Promised Neverland, though more so the former in the way the coming of age elements are handled, balanced with the simultaneous awakening of their unusual powers. Although these segments are important in the way they connect to the overall storyline, the proceedings are more detached, for we follow numerous characters who don't have much of an established personality, and I came to look at the group as a kind of "organism." There are a lot of ways in which the two storylines connect that are not immediately obvious, so it helps to pay close attention, but a second viewing will also prove more rewarding than numerous other series.

Information is slowly revealed about the devastated and dysfunctional world. However, with two co-occurring storylines that are equally vague and slow to reveal information, it can feel aimless at times. For Kiruko's group, they wander around in search of "Heaven," and they have no clues to go on other than hunches like, "Oh, wow, the water in this area is supposed to be 100% safe (derp) to drink, so they'd surely establish 'Heaven' there, right?" "Look at this bird symbol on my gun. Whoa, it's on the boxes, too!" Needless to say, it's more of a journey than a tightly plotted story, but the ambiguity makes the unraveling all the more enticing.

Only Kiruko and Maru are given the time to feel like full-fledged characters. Due to backstory reasons and the thematic focus of the author, Kiruko is the much more intriguing of the two. Maru is blander, and he's kind of your typical runt-like badass shonen main (FATAL DRIVU!!!) who can beat the hell out of everyone (except for bears). However, it's okay. There's a lot of chemistry to be found in their banter, and they sort of function as a comedy duo, for better or worse... On one hand, the two playing off of each other can be fun, but it depends on what draws you to the series.

If it's the enigmatic story and the post-apocalyptic atmosphere, then you may find the couple to be a bit abrasive at times. You know, the typical scenarios like Kiruko barging in on Maru while he's looking at stained porno mags that he found under someone else's bed. "Noooooooooo! It's not what it looks like, mommy. I'm not looking at porn. I don't even know what porn is. You didn't see this." Maru stuffs the porn under the mattress. "What porn are you talking about? I don't see any." Luckily, the humor is sporadic and never saturates the scenes for too long. There's even a plot-relevant "sexy time" humor bit, which is a more layered spin on a cliche scene common to harem, but for every time I get immersed into the world, I get buried neck-deep into a horny coming of age scenario all of a sudden.

The humor becomes more forceful once Juichi is introduced in ep 9; he delivers (alleged) backstory in a way that's infodumpy and obtrusive, then by episode 10 we're treated to a lot of exaggerated animation to mine humor; at one point, Kiruko's face looks like a Shin-chan character, the mains likewise fall into childish caricatures in a more limited animation style, and there are slapstick head conks and all that stuff. I honestly enjoyed the animation and humor in the episode, but even though HD dabbles a good bit in humor, the exaggeration here is perhaps too much of a tonal shift. It would have worked great as a dynamic guest director episode in a pure comedy series, but considering HD fluctuates between humorous banter and a darker atmosphere, it's a bit heavy here.

Similarly, the sadder emotions are sometimes forced, such as the hamfisted scene where a character cries after another character's death and there's sappy music playing. We hadn't even followed the characters for long, and it struck me with the force of a laugh track in a bad sitcom. I know it may seem petty to single moments like this out, but they can do a lot of damage to the work, and it's obvious that this scene was stronger in the manga; the edgy twist of episode 10 is also not doing the series any favors. On the other hand, the lighter moment between Mimihime and Ohma is much more impactful, without any music.

It's probably helpful to point to the Japanese folklore lightly woven into the tapestry of the surroundings to provide context, as most Japanese watching the series will be aware of the references going in. Izanagi and Izanami are a brother-and-sister pair (which is also important in light of how the author explores brother-sister relationships) of deities who engage in an incestuous union to give birth to the deformed Hiruko, whom they abandon. Not only does Hiruko have fish-like characteristics, but he also grew extra appendages and other unnatural features. Hiruko is a name the maneaters are often referred to as, and most of the designs appear inspired by oceanic creatures. Additionally, creation myths, including that of Japanese folklore, involve heaven and earth separating.

The art and animation are solid compared to most seasonals. The polish often expected of Production IG is here, and HD is not a pan-tastic slog like so many other seasonals. There's a mixture of character acting and effects with smoothly rendered animation, but most of the budget goes into chase sequences, beat-downs of thugs, or the elaborate monstrosities that are the man-eaters. The backdrops are solid for the wasteland and help consolidate the atmosphere a bit, but the lab scenes are admittedly flat in comparison, looking like your generic lab in any other series like this, and more dramatic lighting or framing might have helped for such a monotonous and sterile setting. The choice of "alt-idol" music in the OP fits the kind of impassioned (in the lustful and non-lustful sense of the word) teenybopper post-apocalyptic tone the series has. Both the OP and ED have a lot of impressive work put into them, and the ED seems to purposively add its male and female vocal duo to reinforce the themes of the series.

I think my main problem with the show is how it appears to thrive on atmosphere, yet the assumption is somewhat illusory (or maybe I should say delusory). Weird animeisms, awkward teenage character dynamics, out of place humor, and Maru going chop socky on everyone all the time, can kind of suck the life out of the atmosphere sometimes. The environments and slower moments are sufficient enough to maintain a partial atmosphere but not to sculpt a great one.

There is a certain level of pretension that comes with the perception of S2 versus S1 that reminds me of the debates concerning commercial Hollywood films and foreign art films, with S1 being more so the former because it has a lot of action and excessive amounts of violence, as opposed to the latter, which is sloooooow, not just because of MAPPA corner cutting a bit but also due to the source material of this arc focusing on characters, moral dilemmas, and ideology. If not liking a famous foreign art film gets you a response of "Go watch ur Michael Bay," then maybe the response ... here would be "Go watch ur Sword Art Online"? Not sure.

Is the writing for Farmville arc better than S1 overall? I suppose so... There are at least more opportunities to focus on writing and character development alongside themes and competing ideologies because the action takes a backseat. Frankly, I think S2 has more scenarios that showcase writing than being better written as a whole, and while Thorfinn's character arc is paced far more appropriately than Canute's insanely abrupt one in S1, at least what Canute became wasn't so silly and made perfect sense within the world they inhabited. Unfortunately, much of the proceedings resemble the most boring farming simulator out there, broken up by segments featuring some hyucking punks with names like "Badger," "Possum," and "Hippo."

Thorfinn was a more superficial character in S1, and he has a lot of room for growth here. He makes a friend, learns new life skills, and goes from a low-key PTSD nihilist to an extreme idealist and messiah superhero and a real go-getter philosocan't in a way that allows him to engage in so much mental gymnastics that he twists his ass into a pretzel. If S1 could vaguely be seen as a coming of age story, then I'd suggest S2 is an uncoming of age, as Thorfinn doubles down on masochistic idealism like only a shonen main can ("ahem... ackshually, it's a seinen"). No amount of heavy character development will matter if what you become is essentially the punch line to a joke.

First of all, going back to S1, Thors is a charlatan pretending to be virtuous with his dumb dumb philosophy hour ideology that led to everything happening in the first place. I can understand not killing people if it can be avoided, but he endangered his crew by only lightly injuring Askeladd's men. Let's face it, Askeladd and his men had it coming and deserved to die, and Thors knew full well what they'd do if he failed. And that's while overlooking how ridiculous it is that Thors can solo a whole band of mercenaries in spite of the "semi-realism" the series is going for or that his kid grows up to do the same with butter knives, slicing through mail and plate armor like toothpicks through cheese.

One can value life without this puerile pacifism so common in anime, where they're so adamant about not killing anyone to the point that the people whom they love are harmed as a result, not to mention, themselves. It sickens me, and Japan has long been into these navel-gazing "love and peace" messages, when I demand more realism (character-wise) or at least not masochistic pacifism that glorifies getting beaten so hard that the MC looks like the Toxic Avenger with a wig or running with your tail between your legs and sacrificing everything. To be clear, Ketil's Farm was a futile battle that they never had a chance of winning against Canute's forces, so I can understand retreating in this case, but Thorfinn's ideology is explicitly cardio-intensive even when the odds are in their favor.

I almost dropped S1 back then, but I didn't because I enjoyed the dynamic between Thorfinn and Askeladd and liked the latter as a character. It was clear that Thorfinn would always be in the shadow of his father, and there would be an arc where he would reevaluate himself in relation to what his father was and what Thorfinn had become as a result of becoming part of Askeladd's gang and seeking "principled" vengeance (in reference to Thorfinn refusing to kill him during his sleep). That sense of "loss" Thorfinn felt when he lost the opportunity to defeat Askeladd in a duel was a preferable way to handle a theme of vengeance. Then we're left with this broken husk of a man for S2, leading to the inevitable "redemption" arc where he becomes the mirror image of his father, which leads to me not caring about Thorfinn's arc no matter how well it's handled. You know the saying, "If it's not broken, don't fix it"? Thorfinn taking up his father's mantle is the equivalent of something being broken, not fixing it, pretending it works, then the author forcing it to work due to plot contrivances.

Just as my favorite character was Askeladd in S1, the side characters tend to be more interesting in S2 than Thorfinn, even when they have relatively simple arcs, fewer scenes, and arguably less complexity (a lot less in some cases). The characters surrounding Thorfinn tend to be more realistic fixtures of the world. In contrast, Thorfinn is monumentally idealistic and allowed to indulge further in his nonsense because he has shonen powers. Other characters include the honor-bound Thorgil, who will gladly sacrifice himself for glory; the boastful and pathetic Olmer, who eventually realizes his short-comings and swallows his pride; the industrious yet meek Ketil, who keeps accumulating wealth and land yet fears he will lose everything (with his scene where he's urged to discipline the thief being among the best); and finally, Sverkel, who is kind despite his sternness and values farming as a way of life rather than the materialistic thirst of Ketil. These four present different themes associated with the Nords and their pacification, with Sverkel even having Snake read bible passages to him. Snake and Sverkel also have a compelling dynamic going with one another and are present in many of the better scenes.

Gardar and Arnheid comprise an often corny time-waster arc. I find it hard to be sympathetic with how obvious it is that things won't end well and especially after Gardar killed a bunch of Snake's men. The selflessness of trying to smuggle the two to safety, as directed by Einar and Thorfinn, feels like a cuckold simulator. While I can understand slaves trying to help each other, the duo put too much on the line. If they were going to escape with the couple, that would be one thing, but they will get caught, and punishment will not only be swift, but their freedom will be curtailed or maybe even forfeited for what is a blatant pipe dream. I get it: characters fail at doing things, but there should be more believability, so the scenario seems plausible.

The whole setup seems to be there solely to reinforce "slavery bad" on top of our running theme of "war bad," so Thorfinn and Einar can throw their lives away for "the greater good" before everything turns out fine and Thorfinn can flesh out his utopian ideals faster. When the dream sequence shows Thorfinn and Einar as a deer and a wolf standing together, I laughed my ass off, as it seemed to be an admission by the author of how absurd this segment was and how preposterous Thorfinn's vision is. Nevertheless, props to the author for failing to present Snake as a fufufufu-tier villain, when he sought to uphold justice. The author tends to depict character actions without being overly judgmental, which is rare enough to be commendable.

The confrontation between Thorfinn and Canute is also laughable. "Forcibly expropriating land is bad, and you shouldn't do it! I can't oppose you, but it's really, really, really mean if you do this, so I just came to tell you that you'd better not, and then I'm going to RUN AWAY!" and Canute is like, "LOL! Alright, big guy, you win. If you got my hole covered (wink), I'll work out my daddy issues and learn to trust people." AND THEN CANUTE'S FLEET SHRUNK, AND BLAH BLAH BLAH. Honestly, I think Vinland Saga S2 is one of the finest examples of extreme pacifistic masochism from an idealistic and naive character that I've ever seen in anime. I know it's not a parody, but I've seen this kind of thing in anime throughout the years, and it's perfectly tailored with the zeitgeist of a clash between Viking warriors and pagans and Christianity to become the ultimate deadpan parody of shonen idealism. I see this as a borderline comedy, and evidently, so does Canute, who also laughs his ass off at Thorfinn, as if to say, "Your standup comedy routine is so funny that I'm just going to do whatever you want. You're the greatest court jester I've ever had."

The series is so preachy that it presents Thorfinn's method as the greatest and most noble one imaginable and that it should be generalized elsewhere when possible, irrespective of the fact that Thorfinn's circumstances were highly unique—that is, a prior connection to Canute and Thorfinn having badass shonen skills—and not applicable to almost anyone else.

The aesthetic fails to enhance the writing: it looks like a Hanna-Barbera cartoon or Viking Boondocks, so it's ugly and stiff. Occasionally, a backdrop will have more dramatic lighting, such as with easy shots like a sunset or the solemn scenes where columns of light are breaking through the clouds. Often the animation is like a PowerPoint presentation, the composition is so-so, and we have these turgid tracking shots. We don't need better combat animation or anything, but character acting can help bring a production to life, especially since the series focuses on characters and writing. It can hammer the emotion into a scene when the dialogue is not enough, and when it is enough, just the right amount of character acting enhances the scene, possibly even to greatness. When I think about which anime are the most emotional for me, most of them have freer character animation, such as Letter to Momo, Jin-Roh, Junkers Come Here, Ping Pong, or Kaiba, for example. MAPPA even managed to pack decent character acting into their recent Chainsaw Man adaptation, and I wish it could have rubbed off on Vinland Saga a little bit because, of the two, this one needed a generous budget for character animation a hell of a lot more.

When considering the subpar aesthetic, the sclerotic character acting, and Thorfinn's disgusting idealism, all we're left with are a few decent characters, a small amount of conflict and butting of ideological heads, and a few scenes of fair enough writing, spread thin across long stretches of nothing, it's hard to think of this as anything special.

Is there any reason to expect an obscure 30-minute OVA no one has heard of from the early 1990s called Star Dust to be worth a watch? No, not really, and you'd be correct if you dismissed this dud based on the shoddy looking cover alone, with the artwork being equally flat. Ichirou Itano directed a bunch of pulpy b-movie-like OVAs in the mid 1980s to early 1990s. Many of them are entertaining to some degree or feature fair production values, whether it's Angel Cop, Battle Royal High School, Megazone 23, or even Violence Jack. Star Dust remains one of Itano's most unrecognizable credits because ... of how bland and rushed it is.

While the script is preachy and typical of low quality straight to video productions, the premise for the story isn't too bad, as it's a twist on the usual ecological themes extended to space and using the sun as an incinerator for waste, but corrupt corporations engage in shady waste disposal measures that lead to more virulent solar flares. Yeah, it's basically a third-rate Planetes filtered through ecological disaster films. We're treated to a sample of the state of earth, but it's not enough to get a feel for what life is like other than you'd probably want to never leave the house without your trusty hazmat suit.

We immediately move to an empty, generic spaceport where most of the plot takes place. Anything other than the action is a mind-numbing slog, and I don't even want to think about it. They phone in a laughable environmental speech toward the end, complete with a maudlin tune that had me expecting to see a closeup tear like the notorious crying "Indian" commercial. "We ruined our planet. Now we might pollute space so much that we can't even live here either! Really makes you think." "Yeah, bro, so true." They also mix in a very real ANIME STEREOTYPE, which is the dorky idealistic main character who will risk life, limb, and everyone, rather than take a life: leading to the next gut buster as they confront the lone baddie whom they talk down from committing further violence, which leads to a lecture on trusting humanity (isn't that what led to the central crisis in the first place?).

There are only a few things that standout: 1) Decent space dog fights with crisscrossing lasers and missiles. Animators like Shinji Hashimoto and some others worked on this, though there's nothing too noteworthy here, and the designs are stock sci-fi (as bad as the character art and backgrounds). 2) Comical racial remarks and depictions of various stereotypes. All of the Asians have buck teeth like they came straight out of U.S. WWII propaganda. Blacks or mestizos at the beginning blame "whites" and "yellows" for the destruction of the planet, and everyone is constantly picking on Saki for being Japanese. Of course, this is just fake "conflict," so the wimpy Saki can prove how courageous and right he was all along, then they do the COME TOGETHER bit, and it turns into a borderline sitcom with everyone laughing! This garbage OVA definitely deserves to be launched straight into the sun.