Long before my life on this earth began, my family's lineage has been devoted to studying and teaching the ancient manuscript of Swag: a primordial order committed to deciphering the body's hidden aura, in an attempt to understand what makes some people "Da COOLEST." As per custom, this responsibility is passed on to the next of kin, and in order to uphold this age-old tradition, my long rigorous undertaking of Swag began.
Through the deepest depths of the Amazon rainforest and the scorching heat of the Sahara desert, I traversed the lands in search of answers. Learning the forbidden tapestry of the Maasai tribe, as well
...
as dedicating 5 years of discipleship to the Caribs and Arawaks natives of Trinidad, I've gathered up enough information through extensive research and careful analysis to finally end this ancestral task. And so, after much deliberation, I've come to the conclusion that Sakamoto is, without dispute, the swaggiest character in all the land.
SWAGMOTO (often misspelled as "Sakamoto desu ga?") or "Haven't You Heard? I'm Sakamoto" in English, is the story of a Gary Stu maneuvering his way through high school, as he deals with the everyday pressures of growing up, as well as the burden that comes with having an excessive amount of swag and being absolutely fabulous.
With no one else to turn to, Swagmoto is forced to carry this heavy burden of "COOL" all by his lonesome, constantly being pestered into appeasing lesser beings by humoring or aiding them in their daily dilemmas. He's a God among men, our Lord and savior sent from the heavens to guide the uncultured plebeians. And when he isn't indirectly seducing men, women and grown-ups alike, Swagmoto is teaching his fellow man life lessons in absurd ways that only a true SwagLord of his caliber is capable of doing.
Sakamoto is what happens when you take an observational approach to an overused trope, while also deciding to view it through a comedic lens. And in this case, the overused trope being examined is Mary Sue/Gary Stu characters. With portrayals that often border on the implausible due to the nature of these type of characters being flawless, Sakamoto purposely pushes pass the already thin threshold of practicality associated with them, to enter a realm beyond logic or reason. It exaggerates an archetype that's already exaggerated, to begin with, resulting in what would usually be seen as idealistic features and feats in any other show, into laughter inducing comedic mishaps.
Any given episode sees the titular SwagLord modestly demonstrating his unparalleled COOLNESS in daily tasks at school and around his town, while also occasionally introducing other opposing characters that try to dethrone his position as the swaggiest character on campus. These naysayers often try desperately to outdo SwagJesus in some kind of task, only to have their plans backfire in their faces when his swag is proven to be 2COOL4them. And like everyone else that comes face to face with Swagdaddy, they too are assimilated into the fold as one of his disciples, admiring his fabulousness from afar, while desperately seeking out his attention and approval.
The story structure of Sakamoto is similar to that of comedies like Cromartie High School, but where that over-exaggerates the actions of high school delinquents, Sakamoto switches its focus to idealized characters. And while it should go without saying that comedy is highly subjective, it's still safe to say that if you like comedic stories with this kind of structure, then there's a good chance that you would find Sakamoto's offerings to be up to snuff. The protagonist's deadpan delivery, coupled with the range of reactions given by his peers, is the selling point of the show. But with no other offerings besides this joke, it doesn't take long for the misadventures of Swagmoto to border on lackluster. Like any other gag comedy with a central gimmick carrying it, there will come a point where the punchline doesn't hit as hard as it did before, and Sakamoto wasn't immune to this occurrence.
A joke that's become par for the course runs the risk of growing dull. You could always spice it up with different scenarios, but when the core reasoning behind the joke remains the same, it ceases to deliver the same results after some time. This is usually why most comedy shows have something other than its signature style of humor to keep the viewer's attentiveness. With a limited repertoire of comedic quips and material to worth with, Sakamoto often found its level of impact fluctuating on regular intervals. And while the scenarios are different, the jokes all center around the same comedic gag, which of course is Sakamoto's unnervingly perfect execution of everything he does.
But even when the show doesn't bring the laughs, you could still depend on Swagmoto to swoop in and save the day. If it doesn't hit its target on the first try, there's usually a follow-up attempt that does. This doesn't mean that our messiah was always successful at salvaging a dying joke, but his efforts did keep the show from becoming a chore to watch. With Jesus on your side, anything is possible. Even a measly comedic attempt is still capable of making you smile when Swagmoto is behind it. The Lord is truly great and worthy to be praised.
Another key feature of Sakamoto's sense of humor is just how upfront it is. It never feels mean-spirited about how it goes about masquerading any of these characters. Even when accounting for the fact that these type of characters presented are usually taken in a negative light. Mary Sue/Gary Stu characters are often detested by viewers, and rightfully so. Their presence usually indicates a sign of cheap writing on the creator's behalf. So when Sakamoto views this detracting feature as a glass half full, it opens up an avenue for a new look on the subject.
Even when Swagmoto appears to be giving someone the cold shoulder, in reality, he still has their best interest in mind. As stated by fellow reviewer RogerSmith2004, "Even when the other person loses, they never actually lose. Their encounter with Sakamoto is always a beneficial one. By the end of the segment, no matter how crazy it may seem... Sakamoto, through some means, helps them out." The lighthearted nature of Sakamoto gave the show a feel-good quality about it. It was ever-pleasant and always endearing, making it one of my favorite entries from 2016's Spring season.
Enjoyment: 8/10
Because of the potency of his swag, many often found themselves enraptured by SwagLord's presence. I found myself being one of those people. Just the memes and inside jokes the show generated around it kept me entertained. I couldn't scroll through a Sakamoto comment section without busting out in a fit of laughter. This saying nothing about the show itself, which constantly had me tearing up with just how funny it was. While the only progression that happened was him winning over the characters introduced one by one, I was never bored by it. No, the jokes weren't always as funny. No, it isn't going to be funny for everyone. But for my personal experience, Sakamoto was a title I looked forward to every week.
Overall: 7/10
While the run-on joke didn't always remain fresh, there was certainly enough moments of comedic brilliance that kept the show afloat. As you would expect, it didn't take long before the shortcomings of basing an entire show around a Gary Stu to quickly become apparent. Even with that being said, it doesn't take away the moments when the show delivered a comedic home run. Had it been given a longer run-time, it would have inevitably crumbled under its own weight. Sakamoto was a novelty act that narrowly avoided mediocrity status, thanks to the antics of the titular character. Every time I thought the show finally ran its course, it was immediately saved by Swagmoto and some new absurd life lesson. And honestly, how could I not love SwagLord? He made me a believer. PRAISE HIM, PRAISE SWAGJESUS! And for those readers that haven't experience the bountiful blessings of our Lord and savior, I implore you to seek him out, for he is worthy to be praise. Amen.
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Jul 1, 2016
Sakamoto desu ga?
(Anime)
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Recommended
Long before my life on this earth began, my family's lineage has been devoted to studying and teaching the ancient manuscript of Swag: a primordial order committed to deciphering the body's hidden aura, in an attempt to understand what makes some people "Da COOLEST." As per custom, this responsibility is passed on to the next of kin, and in order to uphold this age-old tradition, my long rigorous undertaking of Swag began.
Through the deepest depths of the Amazon rainforest and the scorching heat of the Sahara desert, I traversed the lands in search of answers. Learning the forbidden tapestry of the Maasai tribe, as well ...
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Jun 30, 2016
Koutetsujou no Kabaneri
(Anime)
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Not Recommended
If you've spent enough time familiarizing yourself with the anime community, you'll come to realize that we're a demanding bunch. That should go without saying, given just how much anime tend to diverge from most mainstream trends. Because of this, we're always on the lookout for the next best thing. Constantly asking for something innovative. Captivating. Unique. Competent. Something to not only entertain but also to satisfy on some intellectual level. In a way, we're spoiled, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. We push for more because we've seen the medium deliver time and time again. Anime isn't afraid of addressing social taboos, nor
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does it shy away from concepts that most other mediums won't dare touch. It's a format that isn't afraid of stepping on a few toes (also, it helps that Japan is batshit insane). So we make demands. We ask for further development. We lobby for anime's continuous growth because we care about the medium... and yet, despite this progressive attitude, every season without fail, we support and exalt titles that stand as the antithesis of all the requirements we beckon for.
We could always point the finger at the industry, holding them accountable for the type of shows we get, but that's just pointing out the symptom and not addressing the actual problem. The anime industry is a business, and like any other business, it provides a consumer need. If consumers show an invested interest in schlock entertainment, then guess what? Schlock entertainment is what they'll offer on a silver platter. Ladies and gentlemen, at the risk of sounding like a condescending prick, I write this intro, not for some personal agenda but for us as a community. If we want better, we must first discard inferior goods. Nipping the bud of Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress's popularity isn't something you passively acknowledge while twiddling your thumbs, it's a matter of civil duty at this point. If you want change, supporting another cheap Attack on Titan substitute is not the answer. But you know what would be a step in the right direction? Gathering up your pitchforks with me as we burn this title at the stake. Watching Kabaneri is like watching a 5-car pile-up on a busy intersection. It's devastating, but hard to look away from. With each plume of smoke breathes a new fiery furnace of stupor; delving deeper into new unforeseen territories of hackneyed writing. Where other shows simply crash and burn, Kabaneri decides to push forward with a broken axle and the power of irrationality to combust its engine. It's a wondrous, smoldering pile of fecal matter on wheels. A beautiful travesty captured in frame by uninspired creators, seeing just how close they could pass their hand over the surface of unoriginality without being scorched by the heat. And trust me when I say that Wit Studio got their hands pretty fucking close. Had they gotten any further, we'd be naming this Shingeki no Kabaneri: Volume II. To say they're cashing in on an existing fanbase would be an understatement. These hacks took the cash-cow home, milked it dry, then butchered it for any remaining morsels that they could scrape together. Kabaneri isn't just below average, it's the residual excrement that resides at the bottom of the barrel. The only thing more overwrought than my need to articulate ways of calling this show shit is the actual execution of the show itself. This anime is bad, I cannot for the life of me stress that point enough. There isn't a mountain high enough to utter this phrase to unexpected viewers. So instead, let's trudge through the latest member of the dung heap, as we explore the hidden depths of Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress. Set during the time of 'unexplored settings' in the lands of 'who cares about proper world building', we're introduced to our protagonist SeaweedWig-kun (also known as Ikoma), as he grunts around mad at everyone and everything around him, working as a steam smith for his town. In a world overrun by kabane (humanoid super zombies), SeaweedWig-kun and the rest of society find themselves residing inside giant walled-in cities to protect themselves from annihilation. With the assistance of steam-propelled weapons they—... wait, what am I doing? Silly me, just recite Shingeki No Kyojin's synopsis and call it a day. After all, this is Wit Studio's 3rd repackaging of the same setup. In my Owari no Seraph review, I created a template to help viewers identify shows with this typical premise. For the sake of saving ourselves time and me not paraphrasing what I've explained in the past, I'll just insert that here as well: One day humanity is suddenly attacked by a group of [insert name of threat here] and is brought to the brink of annihilation. Over [insert amount of years] later and it seems like there's no coming back from this almost divine punishment. But with the discovery of [insert name of weapons or power here], they were able to fight back. We follow our protagonist [insert name here] as he and his comrades use [insert name of weapon or power] to fight the [insert name of threat here] and reclaim humanity in this post-apocalyptic world and slowly discover the crazy mystery of their sudden appearance that might be closer to home than everyone thinks. Kabaneri joins its cousins God Eater, Black Bullet, Knights of Sidonia, Owari No Seraph, and others as the new iteration of this tired trend. With the same director, musical composer, theme song performers, scriptwriters, sound director, color designer, and much more being brought back from their work on Attack on Titan, the intent of Wit studio couldn't be more obvious. I could drill this point home further if need be, but every show deserves to be evaluated independently (even if there's very little worth evaluating). And while Kabaneri isn't winning any anime awards in innovation anytime soon, there are a few distinctions made that separate it from the rest. For one, it's heavy use of steampunk. While the steampunk in Kabaneri is treated with as much relevance as a script for a porno, it was still a distinction that many were initially drawn to. It gave it an identity outside of its overused setup. As pointed out by fellow colleague themegamancave, the involvement of massive trains made to accommodate and sustain people while they travel from city to city, had aspects that were reminiscent of the movie Snowpiercer. This may have given off an impression that the show was possibly going to be more than its doppelgangers (no matter how brief that hope was). With zombies, huge trains, steampunk, and an industrial-like setting, Kabaneri could have been an entertaining romp, had it been entrusted in the hands of more capable creators. Even the protagonist, as rambunctious as he was at times, still demonstrated some qualities, that if smoothed out, could have made for a compelling lead. But that's as far as the show got, by the end of episode one the writing was already on the wall. The show was going to be a trainwreck. Many may not have seen it, but for those that did, we buckled up, grabbed a tub of popcorn, and waited for the title to eventually derail. Thankfully, we didn't have to wait long, as Kabaneri started off stumbling, only to further lose its footing on its quick descend downwards (which I would discuss in detail in my spoiler section). In typical fashion for this type of show, SeaweedWig-kun's homeland is invaded by the kabane after a freak accident causes a part of the wall to be knocked down. Accompanying us on our trainwreck to hell, we're introduced to Mumei, or as I like to call her, Bipolar-chan. While the citizens run around in a panic with the kabane slowly picking them off, SeaweedWig-kun and Bipolar-chan take matters into their own hands. Bipolar-chan, a 12-year-old terminator, made quick work of the kabane fodder while giving us glances of her prepubescent pantsu. And while this is going on, our protagonist SeaweedWig-kun concocts a plan to ambush a zombie with a weapon he made with what remaining time he didn't dedicate to yelling at people. After the dust settles from all the chaos, our remaining citizens find themselves aboard Thomas the Tank Engine as they leave behind the charred remains of what they called home. And so our adventure begins. With caked-on color gradients, a grandiose soundtrack by Sawano, and nice action set pieces, it isn't hard to see why initial impressions would cause mass hysteria for more Kabaneri. But little did people know, what they were getting was a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the slightest nudge to explode. Even elements that seemed to be a strong attribute at 1st couldn't keep up the façade for long. Take the art and animation for example. Because of the polished look that the show draped over everything, many viewers often fail to notice the fact that several scenes throughout each episode were actually still shots, with no more than a shaky-cam effect to mask it. And outside the moments that fight scenes broke out, the actual fluidity of the animation was no higher than the usual standards demonstrated by other studios. Kabaneri was a mess only held together by duct tape. And when it started bursting from the seams, episodes like 9 began to happen. And what little makeup it had to distract from the truth that was there all along, it was no longer enough to fool even the most gullible of individuals. These sleight-of-hand tricks weren't limited to later episodes either. The degree to which the audience notice these shortcomings depended entirely on their initial investment. And seeing how my invested level was lower than dirt, Kabaneri was an eyesore from the moment SeaweedWig-kun had bright ideas about how the body's circulatory system works. But even a trainwreck like Kabaneri had some positive qualities. As previously mentioned, the soundtrack by Sawano did wonders for the show. It helped shape the mood and tone of the show's universe. Swelling up whenever the action came to a boiling point or simmering down during quiet moments; whatever the occasion, Sawano had all ends covered. It made the experience far more enjoyable than it would have been had a less talented composer been given the job. On a side note, there was a minor character with a widely inconsistent vernacular. I'm not sure if the voice actor wanted to be British, American, or Australian. It's like trying to get Arnold Schwarzenegger to trick someone into believing he's a part of the British Intelligence. The random hammy phrases uttered by this individual got me to chuckle every time. Outside of that, the rest of the cast did fine. But ultimately the biggest highlight from the auditory department was that of Sawano. A man that unfortunately had to sully his hands once again with a project undeserving of his talents. And speaking about creators that elevated Kabaneri from the shit pile, Tetsurō Araki directorial work once again shines through. No matter the project he takes on, his flair for the dramatic is never underplayed. The man knows how to get the most from the material he's given. Whether he's directing the Spiderman view shots of the 3D maneuver gear in Attack on Titan or physics-defying with the matrix boobs on High School of the Dead; Araki goes all out every time. He's to anime what Zach Synder is to film. Whether you view that as an insult or not isn't of concern, the fact is he never stops delivering his signature flair, no matter the quality of show he's working with. But this is where the praise comes to an end, as our trainwreck makes its final pit stop. For those of you who've seen the show and had a hard time spotting plot inconsistencies or contrive narrative decisions, don't worry, because I'm feeling extra generous today. Join me in the spoiler section as I break down this idiotic title by each episode. And for those of you who haven't seen Kabaneri yet, scroll down past the "end of spoilers" indication to avoid having this "masterpiece" ruined for you. ***spoiler section**** . . Kabaneri showed cracks in its foundation from the very beginning. This breakdown will cover them all. ep1: The show thinks the body circulatory system works by bullshit logic, with the main character hanging himself to stop a virus. There're two kinds of choking: one that restricts blood flow to the brain, denying oxygen intake, and the other is strangulation, which cuts off your air intake altogether by closing your windpipe. Restricting your blood flow or air intake doesn't stop blood from going to your brain, it restricts it. It's like going from a gush of water to a slow trickle. So choking yourself isn't going to prevent a virus from spreading to your brain, all that would do is leave you unconscious and eventually cause death when there's no one around to help resuscitate you. This still doesn't even address the fact that he slit his wrist, which, if you don't know, could cause you to bleed to death. There's a reason it's a common method of committing suicide. So our protagonist committed two acts back to back that would usually lead to death, yet survives both, all for an end goal that logically makes no sense whatsoever. Even if we put aside how illogical this solution is, and suspend our disbelief to buy into it, the fact remains that our protagonist never informs anyone of this accomplishment. If temporarily cutting off circulation to your brain and infected area is all that it takes to combat this virus, why would he not inform the other citizens about this after he had gained their trust, instead of having them kill themselves with pocket bombs? When you take this into consideration, our protagonist is essentially responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people. For someone who tries his hardest to protect others, he sure does a piss poor job at doing it. ep2: Mumei single-handily wipes out dozens of Kabane with ease. This may not seem like a big deal until you realize what it does for the stakes of the show. If these monsters are made out to be such an imposing force to humanity, only to have them be taken out with little effort by a 12-year-old girl, what does that do to the stakes? Yes, the Kabaneri inclusion spices up the story but it also removes any sense of tension when you have a one-man army on your side. ep3: After saving the lives of everyone, the Kabaneri are scrutinized by the people. This isn't the actions of sensible adults, this is the writers turning an entire population into imbeciles. No matter the time period or cultural upbringing, using weapons to extend survival has always been intrinsic to mankind. Taking precautions to keep them locked up? Sure. But to outright discard them right after seeing their effectiveness in combat? Now that's plain lunacy. To top it off, these buffoonish adults gather in a mob to threaten the Kabaneri, despite seeing their physical prowess against kabane; beasts they could barely take out as a group. This is also where Bipolar-chan began to show her wishy-washy personality; switching from one archetype to another at the drop of a hat. ep4: A kabane has the ability to wield a samurai sword with as much proficiency as a trained warrior. At this point, red flags should be going off in your head. This is insanely stupid, I shouldn't have to explain why this is a huge problem. ep5: Mumei's flip flopping characteristics become increasingly worse. She's always been bipolar before this episode, but this is the point where the writers show that they don't know how to write a mentally disturbed character, from one that simply flip flops between different personality traits. She goes from tsundere, to yandere, to kuudere, to dandere, back to tsundere again. This is terrible characterization. The last time I've seen a character this inconsistent was Slaine Troyard from Aldnoah.Zero. ep6: LOL The Black Smoke. Do I need to say more? At this point, those red flags in your head should be set ablaze. This is where the show nosedives at 100mph. ep7: Impoverished, with little food to feed their people, yet they have enough resources to waste on a celebration? This desperate attempt to add levity only backfires. To top it off they light fireworks... FIREWORKS! That's how you attract hoards of kabane to your location. The show temporarily forgot that it was a zombie survival story and does something far too stupid to be excused. Also, this is where Biba makes his first appearance lol And God knows what that means. ep8: It's the introduction of Biba and the relinquishment of any integrity Kabaneri may have been holding on to. Not only does he collect Kabane like he's a pokemon master, but he's also a genocidal lunatic with little in the way of proper reasoning for any of his actions. Where other antagonists take an inch, Biba takes a mile, and then some. Also, Bipolar-chan's gullible personality is poorly excused with the actions taken by Biba to get her to the mental state she's in. ep9: As far as I'm concerned, the show jumped the shark with the colony kabane monster, but this serves as the most noticeable case of it going off the rails completely. The Kabaneri are now pokemon, with Hyper Beams, agility, and double team. This, my friends, is what schlock action looks like. This is also the moment that many people gave up on the show. There's literally no defense possible to excuse this. The show has 0 value at this point. This doesn't even touch upon the fact that Biba killed thousands of innocent people for what amounts to him being butthurt. ep10: Mumei is still a flip-flopping idiot, Biba is still demonstrating Saturday morning cartoon levels of villainy, and in what was supposed to be an emotional sacrifice, where Ikoma's friend Takumi jumps in front of a bullet to protect him, losing his life in the process, turns out to be just another failed attempt by the show. You see, there's just one problem with this "emotional" scene, he didn't need protecting, to begin with. We've seen Ikoma have chunks of flesh ripped from him by hoards of kabane on several occasions, as well as other life-threatening injuries. The kabaneri are known to have amazing regenerative abilities. So had Ikoma been shot, it wouldn't have mattered all that much. This makes Takumi's sacrifice pointless and only there to add emotional weight for a moment that didn't have any. And after hitting a conveniently placed lever that opens up the train's walls (seriously, what function does this even serve?), Ikoma falls into the river after Bipolar-chan stabs him, in what is the most overused fake death scene in any storytelling medium. ep11: Ikoma turns into Rambo and staples a gun to his arm (because reasons) and takes a drug to go super saiyan, which has the side effect of depleting his life and killing him (remember this); while Biba devises a plan that operates entirely on plot convenience. It required his father to kill him using a weapon that he himself had devised as a trap, with a convenient formula that instantly infuses your blood with Kabane's, a substance that we never saw before (which makes no sense given the prior cases of kabane transformations we've seen). ep12 The show couldn't keep its promise and at least deliver Ikoma as a sacrifice for Mumei's life. Instead, it chose the pussy way out, by keeping him alive (despite what they said just one episode prior to him taking the drug). Ikoma temporarily became a Jedi and used the force to send a train flying off the tracks. They also try to humanize Biba at the last minute with perhaps the dumbest revelation up to this point. Remember, this is a guy that committed multiple genocides because he's a little butthurt, so seeing the show try to add humanity to him at the very last minute is not only unwarranted but plain stupid. And the way he goes about receiving this forced "redemption" opens up another can of worms, in perhaps the show's stupidest mistake up to this point. If Biba cured the Kabaneris with the formula that the scientist had, doesn't it stand to reason that the same cure could work if you're bitten by one? This revelation not only ruins what little semblance of urgency the show had, it effectively erased all the danger of every encounter up to this point. It also negates the struggle that Kabaneris faced with not being completely human. It's astonishing just how many dumb things the show does in the last few minutes of airing. This isn't even accounting for the numerous stupid moments littered throughout the episode. The show went full-retard, there's no other way to describe what happened. So with all this said, when I see people say the show was good then got terrible after a Kabaneri spammed a "Grand Rey Cero," I'm honestly perplexed, because, from my account of every episode up to that point, the show has always been bad. . . ***end of spoiler*** Whenever a title receives widespread popularity, a slew of variations and rehashes of that project tend to follow. Like in the case of The Matrix, which effectively started a trend of high-concept dystopian action movies like Equilibrium, Ultraviolet, and Minority Report. The anime community has no shortage of this event happening either, with the two biggest recent examples being Sword Art Online and Attack on Titan. Titles that saw with it a huge incentive for the anime industry to pump out MMO augmented reality shows and the next humanity monster survival tale. The only time these trendsetting tidal waves subside is when audiences no longer express interest in that product. Kabaneri wouldn't be the last unless we as an audience say enough is enough. And while they're anime viewers who simply love the idea of more Attack on Titan, remember that this will only lead to negative backlash later on. If you consume the same product every day, sooner or later you're going to get sick of the taste. Over-saturation is what kills interest, and as long as you give these half-baked shows a monetary gain, studio heads would see no incentive to stop. Enjoyment: 7.5/10 Kabaneri is entertaining in the way watching a dumpster fire could be seen as fun. Thankfully the only casualty of this trainwreck was the integrity of Wit Studio's staff, and perhaps the brain cells of those that actually thought this had a chance of being good. I really hated this show at first, it was doing illogical things but not to the point of alerting other viewers. So while I sat there uninterested, others saw something "good" or at the very least, entertaining. But then the show got increasingly worse, eventually getting to the point where even casual viewers couldn't possibly ignore it anymore. And as it quickly decreased in quality, my enjoyment quickly shot up as a result. Kabaneri's writing is impressively bad, like worthy of a Razzie bad. I'm all for dumb fun, but what I don't advocate, however, is confusing "so bad it's good" titles with actual "good" ones. And while I enjoyed making fun of this show, laughing at each new idiotic plot thread, it is by no means a good title. It's a confused, contrived mess that made for great B-movie entertainment. So while this dumpster fire occasionally whizzed out fireworks for my amusement, I can't promise the same results for everyone else. Overall: 3/10 Kabanaeri is the malignant tumor slowly eating away at the anime community's set standards of what constitutes a "good" title. Each new layer is like a slow descent into madness; deciphering your way through the muddled maze of abysmal writing and "so bad it's good" narrative decisions that even experienced viewers would be baffled by. Very few shows left me dumbfounded with their stupidity in the way Kabaneri did. I was dumbfounded trying to process the sheer level of absurdity that each new episode brought, and just as I thought it was done with its surprises, it manages to pull another rabbit out of its (ass)hat. Unintelligible, uninspired, and gasping for air, this anime is on the verge of being comatose. Pulling the plug is the only humane solution left. It reached the apex of nonsensical writing, and there's no cure potent enough to save it from dying of brain damage. This is truly the representation of "schlock" in its unadulterated form.
Reviewer’s Rating: 3
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Jun 26, 2016
Boku no Hero Academia
(Anime)
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Mixed Feelings
Boku no Hero Academia is an anime that lives and dies by the conventional. While that could be seen as a negative feature in most scenarios, for a superhero shounen that understands its limitations, it's actually quite refreshing.
Being satisfied with maintaining a status quo in a medium that constantly pushes the envelope may seem like the wrong direction to take until you come to realize the confines the show is working with. While some shows of this nature tend to sabotage themselves with poor narrative decisions, most are usually knocked off, not by their content, but by their desire for more, despite not having ... the material needed to back it up. Shounen stories by design are meant to facilitate the fundamental building blocks of easily digestible themes. It's for that reason that the main demographic targeted is first and foremost young boys to teens before concerning themselves with any other group. While some titles have successfully escaped this genre's trappings to garner appraisal from a more demanding audience (Fullmetal Alchemist, Hunter X Hunter, etc.), most of it tends to fall apart when they attempt to push beyond the capabilities of its written material (Owari no Seraph, Blue Exorcist, etc.). This isn't to say that a creator shouldn't attempt to do more if they think they're capable of pulling it off, just that knowing what material you have to work with is also key to creating a successful work. You can't exactly create thematically rich content from something that didn't contain it in the first place, but what you can do is make the best product possible with the hand you're dealt. And this is where Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia) comes in. It's a shounen story that isn't ashamed about its humble offerings, nor does it display delusions of grandeur for accolades out of its reach. While other content creators are busy navel-gazing, Academia uses that time to create something that's full of whimsy. It's an anime that lives comfortably in its realm of customary standards. And really, isn't that enough? Academia doesn't work because it offers more than other atypical shounen titles, it works because it decides to be the best it can be in its current position that it's given. And what better way to show strength within one's limitations than by having the story revolve around characters that put forth their best effort in the face of adversity. Academia tells a story that I'm sure most anime viewers are familiar with. The classic underdog story; the naive boy growing into his own, the bonds he forms with like-minded individuals, and the life lessons he learns along the way. It's a simple tale, one of perseverance, childish ideals, and believing in oneself. Izuku "Deku" Midoriya is that naive boy, and the object of his admiration is that of All Might: the idealized embodiment of peace and justice. The story chronicles his attempts to become an admirable hero like the one he looks up to, as well as seeing him overcome the obstacles he's bound to face in the uphill battle that he's undertaken to get there. Set in a universe where superpowers manifest itself in 80% of the world's population, becoming a professional hero has become commonplace. These innate abilities that people find themselves with are referred to as "Quirks." Naturally, the 20% that's born without a Quirk is at an inherent disadvantage to the rest of the population. And as you would guess, our protagonist Midoriya is one of these unfortunate people that life handed lemons to. Despite his situation, our protagonist still desperately seeks out the chance to become a hero. But it isn't until a fateful encounter that his dream could become a reality. Fast forward a few months later, and Midoriya finds himself at the gates of one of the most respected schools for heroes in training. And so begins our tale. The first thing you'll probably notice about Academia is just how expressive its art and animation looks. The show looks like colored panels jumping right off the pages of its manga counterpart. This is further illustrated by the dynamic movement of the characters, instantaneously eye-catching character designs, and an ultra-vibrant color scheme. Studio Bones rolled their sleeves up with this one, delivering a visual spectacle that they're known to be capable of. A firework display of showboating talent that the studio has earned across the many years in the industry. And since they're adapting the material verbatim, none of their infamous plotting issues makes its way into the narrative, making Academia into a cohesive body of work, the likes of which wasn't pulled off by Bones since their adaptation of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. It's the studio at its best, which not only spotlight its talents to others but also helps Academia to shine its brightest. To further heighten the visual treat, we're also given a soundtrack composed by Yuuki Hayashi, which was, for the lack of a better term, hype-inducing. Lending his talents to Kiznaiver, Death Parade, and other projects, Hayashi is quickly making a name for himself within the industry and is a talent worth keeping on your radar for future works to come. With veteran Sound Director Masafumi Mima lending his talents to the project, together these two men help shape the auditory section of Academia into what it is. It's a commendable effort that's deserving of the praise received. And just like the presentation of the show, the characters are just as lively, with a broad range of personalities and superpowers to boot, as to be expected from a show dealing with superheroes. While they're all fairly stereotypical, what they lack in layered character detail, they more than compensated with spunk and attitude. Their eccentricities added to the show's tone and lighthearted nature. They're in no way innovative or new to the genre they're a part of, but they still serve their purpose for the content at hand. This extends to our protagonist Midoriya as well. He is your archetypal lead in every way possible. Replacing him with almost any other shounen protagonist would yield very little change. What is interesting about him, however, is the handicap that he's strong-armed into working with. Because of the inherent nature of his power, he is forced to make compromises to avoid extensive injury to himself. Since he spent his entire life taking notes of the anatomy and capabilities of other heroes, he's more astute than his peers. This allows him the ability to plan accordingly, especially under stressful conditions that force him to be quick on his feet. As the show goes on, this analytical prowess of his doesn't go to waste. He brings this talent to each physical encounter he's placed in, making combat situations a balancing act between outsmarting his opponent, as well as mitigating potential risk to himself. Speaking of physical encounters, since our protagonist makes an effort to think tactically in the midst of battle, the skirmishes he gets into are far more entertaining than what you'd typically expect from superhero brawls. Of course, he's still a kid, so these tactics may not be the most riveting things to see play out, but it still beats seeing senseless bishounen cock-fights that resort to shouting and punching wildly to achieve results. This was also prevalent in other physical altercations throughout the show. Again, while not the most imaginative fights, they were still a cut above the usual standards of the battle-shounen formula. This doesn't mean that hotheaded characters grew a few brain cells all of a sudden, they still acted in a brash manner befitting their personality; but for those that have powers or limitations that needed adjustment, they found ways to innovate whenever it was necessary. With the trend of superhero stories becoming ever-present across all storytelling media in the last few years, the marketplace has gotten to a point where it's on the verge of stagnation. For the general populace, that point may not be that prevalent yet, but for those vigilant viewers that recognize the pattern, it's a backlash shit storm just waiting to happen. Boku no Hero Academia is just another drop in the bucket. Inconsequential. A blip on the radar. But that's also the beauty of it. It's not an anime that hurts the medium, nor is it unwarranted to most that sit down to watch it. It's just an honest-to-god shounen. No gimmicks, no underhanded attempts into duping its viewership to take it more seriously than they need to. It's just a sincere piece of media made for the sole purpose of entertaining its audience, and perhaps even more than that for those wide-eyed youths that sit down to view this type of story for the 1st time. That sort of honesty in a time when desensitized audiences have grown jaded to what's offered to them might just be the remedy needed. I always want to see the medium push forward, but when a break is necessary, I more than welcome the likes of shows like Academia. It's fuel in the fire to keep going. Easygoing entertainment that I could trust at face value won't give me the runaround. Academia is a rare case where it's good because it's average, and I know that may leave many of you questioning how something could possibly be both, but really, that's the only way to explain this show's predicament. We could commend a show for trying and succeeding at doing more, as one should when a title pushes beyond what's standard fare. But at the same time, there's nothing wrong with appreciating a title that chooses to be good in a way that's not necessarily innovative in the market it's a part of. This will be an instance where the score of "5" isn't used to insinuate inferior goods, but rather one of accurate assessment of the product at hand. It's a good show for its target demographic, just an average one given its placement in the broader landscape of shounen material. Its modesty is endearing. And in a time when titles either conflate their worth or uninspiringly follow a checklist for a quick profit, Academia proves that just being yourself is never a bad thing.
Reviewer’s Rating: 5
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Jun 25, 2016 Not Recommended
Forced drama, what does it entail? Is it the act of searching for genuine emotion in a place that never offered it? Is it not understanding the limitations of your screenplay? Perhaps it comes from honest attempts to create something organic. Whatever the reason may be, when it happens, it doesn't leave a good aftertaste.
So which is it for Kiznaiver? Is it truly trying to craft something memorable? Is it seeking poignancy in the anguish of others? Is it studio Trigger trying to branch out into unfamiliar territory; a leap of faith, hoping their dedicated followers would comfort them when they fall on their ... faces? And really, should I care, even if they did attempt something out of a place of honest effort? Well, short answer, fuck no. I don't need to babysit a half-baked effort. I don't need to try to empathize with a failed project that slipped out of the creators' hands. As harsh as that mentality may be, it's the honest truth. I'm the consumer. The only thing required of me is to be entertained and engrossed by the project they put forward. And guess what? I wasn't. In fact, I was mentally drained by this synthetic try-hard and its relentless efforts to pull at my heartstrings; operating with as much subtlety as a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade trying to sneak down Central Park West. A good concept doesn't make a good anime and Kiznaiver embodies that very notion. The message it chose to convey was fine, but the way it went about delivering it was the problem. In a sickeningly idealistic attempt to bring forth "world peace" and a greater level of understanding among humanity, the Kiznaiver project was created to combine the shared pain of its placeholders by linking their sensory output together. The more these placeholders are made to open up to each other, the deeper their connection becomes; experiencing everything from the surface-level physical pain, to more emotional-based pain, as the walls that separate them dissipates. If the premise wasn't made explicit enough already, it's essentially one big character study and self-examination of human relationships. And it should go without saying, but whenever topics like these are made your primary focus, there are some prerequisites expected of it in order for it to function with any semblance of validity. You can't go swimming without a pool of water, and in the same light, you can't have a character study without characters. Notice I wrote "characters" NOT "caricatures," a distinction that Kiznaiver can't seem to make. If Kiznaiver had an extended title, it would go something along the lines of: "Kiznaiver: Forcing Archetypes to have Da Feels" These color-coordinated caricatures are so cookie-cutter by storytelling standards that you could sum them all up with one-liners. They're basically human smurfs, each feeding into pre-assigned roles with little in the way of diversifying their default archetypes. Instead of swimming in a pool of water, Kiznaiver attempts to achieve the same feat with a pit full of dirt. A task that's not only nigh impossible but also painful to watch play out as well. Archetypes are meant to serve as default personalities to further build upon. To simply present them as is without building on who they are as characters is not only conceited, it's borderline delusional when taking into consideration the importance that the characters hold in the confines of this material. This isn't an action adventure where the world being trekked is the star attraction, it's a character study, a CHARACTER study. If there's one aspect of your screenplay that you want to shine the most, it's in this department. And yet, redhead tsunderes are pre-packaged in this anime in the same way every live-action movie and TV drama depiction of high school has the popular blonde cheerleader and varsity-jacket-wearing jock. So when these non-entities are placed in a situation where they're forced to open up to each other, there's very little that could be done to divert the audience's attention from the obvious truth. That truth being that there's nothing to truly pull from these "characters" since there was nothing there from the beginning. The show desperately attempts to squeeze a modicum of emotion from this dirt pit, and when that plan fails, we're brought back to my original inquiry. This anime is strong-armed into producing something it never had to begin with; genuine emotion. To be fair, there are transient glimpses of decent writing in this dirt pit of a cast, that coming in the form of one character, Honoka Maki. If there was ever a character in this show that Kiznaiver didn't butcher with its ineptitude, Honoka was it. With the introduction of her backstory, as well as the time dedicated to exploring her psyche, she stands out like a sore thumb, especially when placed in her vapid surroundings. Had the show handled its cast with the same amount of effort and care as it did with her, I would have been singing a different tune. But this sadly isn't the case, and just as quickly as Honoka's character focus brought hope to the show, it's immediately snuffed out as the artificial angst surrounding every other facet of the screenplay further plunges the material back to the subpar levels that it was constructed out of. If I had to offer any other appraisal outside of this temporary moment of decent writing, it would be that of the art and animation department. Unlike the rest of the show, this area demonstrated the talent found at Trigger that they accumulated from their time spent at Gainax. The color palette used was radiant and immediately draws the viewer's attention. With storyboarding that kept a sense of flow in mind and a decent amount of consideration made in its use of color theory, there was clearly more effort here than what's usually expected out of typical studio projects. The same could be said (for the most part) about the character designs. While some were painfully by-the-numbers, others were quite expressive and easily identifiable. At the end of the day, these designs are wasted on cookie-cutter archetypes, but they're still appealing nonetheless. One a side-note, for readers who've already seen Kizanaiver, the designs of the gomorin outfits take clear inspiration from the Maromi doll in Paranoia Agent. Perhaps this was done so as a tribute to Satoshi Kon, given his extensive work in the field that the show is trying to dive into. Whatever the case may be, it was a nice touch. Another detail that, while not innovative, still deserves mentioning was the color of the characters' hair. Katsuhira's hair—which was supposed to show someone close to complete apathy—was represented with pure white hair overlapped with some brown, with the white representing an absence of emotion and the brown being the faint presence of it still left within him. The same could be said about Niko's hair, which obviously denotes to the flamboyancy of her personality given the diverse, bright colors. Again, pretty simple in how the hair color denotes their traits, but still worth noting. As for the soundtrack, there isn't much to say. The only thing that sticks out is the opening theme "LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME" by BOOM BOOM SATELLITES, and rightfully so, given the infectious nature of it in accompaniment with the visuals presented. This could be attributed to the fact that sonically it has much in common with one of pop's more recognizable tunes "Take on Me" by a-ha. At the time of this writing, a quick youtube search of "Kiznaiver take on me" would bring you to a video that exploits this, merging the song with Kiznaiver's opening, demonstrating just how interchangeable it really is. That being said, BOOM BOO SATELLITES certainly delivered. Everything else in the sound department is forgettable by comparison. The only other thing worth taking note of is the sound effects used at times; like the glitchy noise made whenever the Kiznaiver device was activated, or the added sound effects given for objects when motioned. It was minor inclusions but still did something for the show than had it been excluded. Now, what should have been excluded but ultimately made the final cut was a love heptagon. Not a regular one-way love, not a love triangle, but a full-blown love heptagon! And what happens when you involve a bunch of dimensionless smurfs in an ouroboros-like relationship? You get an embarrassing display of cardboard cutouts inserts pleading to each other. A potpourri of ill-advised confessionals that transformed itself into a deformed, blubbering mess. There's very little in the way of actual characterization for these mouthpieces with legs, so expecting them to divulge genuine feelings for each other just comes across as half-assed. Some characters don't even have much in the way of one-on-one interaction prior to these events either, and those that do get that time barely share any semblance of chemistry. This made what was suppose to be emotional climaxes in the story, into an over-bloated cringe-filled sob-fest. This was midday soap opera levels of awful. The show steamrolls through all of this melodrama and artificial angst in order to deliver a message that no one needed help figuring out in the first place; getting closer to others runs the risk of eventually being hurt by them. This isn't exactly an eye-opening revelation, this is just common sense. But what's possibly worse than off of this is the fact that what Kiznaiver struggles to deliver in 12 episodes, is easily understood with just 1. This 1 episode I speak of is the TV pilot of Kino's Journey. Watch those 20 minutes and save yourself hours of seeing a show drown in the kiddie pool section. Enjoyment: 3/10 I told myself, as well as a few colleagues, that I wasn't going to review this, due in large part to the fact that just talking about it made me feel mentally exhausted. But then I thought about what it would mean for those people that share my stance but can't quite articulate the reason for why they feel the way they do. I thought about our perspective going unheard in the frenzy of hype and unchecked evaluations. Letting Kiznaiver get off scot-free to gain unwarranted appraisal became far bigger of a burden than simply ignoring it to comfortably go about my way. And so, here I am, writing this review for all those, who like me, are tired of these empty vessels being filled with accolades it doesn't deserve. The only emotional response that Kiznaiver got right was that of frustration, as that's precisely what I felt while watching it. Overall: 4/10 Kiznaiver is fine until it gets into the character drama, and seeing that the whole show revolves around character drama, you could see how that leaves very little in the way of value. Had the characters been handled better, had the concept not been bare-bones, had the writers tried a bit harder, then maybe, just maybe, there would have been something here worth talking about. But that wasn't the case, and Trigger, once again, "saves anime!" "The show wasn't that good, but the opening was so nice though!" How many more times do we have to make this statement before we let insufferable titles like these crash and burn? How many more times would we equate trying with being good enough? The only good that Kiznaiver can offer is serving as a future example of what forced melodrama looks like. With that being said, ignore this one if you haven't already, it's a practice in tolerance-control that would only serve as a distraction from watching something else that's truly worth your invested time.
Reviewer’s Rating: 4
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Jun 21, 2016
Joker Game
(Anime)
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Mixed Feelings
Cool gadgets. Fine women. Exotic locations. Fast cars. Espionage. Epic Adventures.
This idealized depiction of the spy lifestyle has always been an in-house staple in Tinseltown, with big IPs like James Bond and The Mission Impossible franchise selling this image to rake in a cool profit with each new installment. While the actual lifestyle itself might not be any more glamorous than what's presented in "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" or "Spy Game," it's still fun to see these lavish illustrations as they play out. The truth of the matter is that most real-life spy work revolves around arduous, long-term cover jobs, methodical information gathering, counterintelligence, ... espionage and very rarely, the occasional physical altercation. But that template wouldn't make for an entertaining movie now, would it? Or at least not for Hollywood bigwigs looking to make a big splash at the box office. But unlike the calculated risk of a big-budget Hollywood production, this is the world of anime, where the niche has a place to flourish and a built-in audience willing to give it a chance. Regardless of the actual end result, even the most tamed of anime offerings could be "different" by the standards of mainstream media. So with that in mind, how does a show like Joker Game approach this subject matter? Is it an adrenaline rush like "The Bourne Identity" and other spy thrillers, or is it relentlessly honest like "The Imitation Game" and titles that choose to take a more precise route in the depiction of spy work? Well, I'm not quite sure, and I don't think the show has an answer to that inquiry either. Why you may ask? Well, let's find out together. Set during the WWII era, the story follows several Japanese spies as their day-to-day endeavors are recollected in a memoir-like narrative structure. Through the course of the show, we're made privy to a vast variety of methods that they utilize in order to carry out their services for their country. Decoding enemy tactics and spreading false information was all par for the course for our agents. The show forwarned that all of its events and names depicted were fictional, but it's fair to surmise that some of what was shown was inspired by historical occurrences. The degree to which those aspects were exaggerated varied immensely, but we'll address that later. Transporting us to a time that's rarely delved into in the medium while simultaneously eliminating elements that have become almost symbiotic with anime, it doesn't take much to see the initial appeal that Joker Game brought to the table. For the most part, the title exudes a feeling of self-restraint in its actions. Characters were drawn with anatomical precision, locations were well mapped out, color choices were reasonably muted for the period-piece it was set in; everything functioned with a sense of real-world cinematics. A production invested in decisions that were devoid of most contemporary tricks, pulling far more from the world of live-action movies than it did the medium it resided in. This anime was the Dos Equis guy, suave and intellectual, not the boisterous Bud Light Frat boys. So it's smooth, takes itself seriously, draws from real-world occurrences, and appears perceptive... so what's the problem? Well, its very nature is. When a show like Joker Game takes itself seriously and demands a baseline level of respect from its audience, it's usually granted with a few unspoken rules that are easy to comprehend when spotlighted. The more serious you take yourself and subject matter, the less room for error you're given, as the audience will treat what's being seen with the same amount of scrutiny as the title has self-imposed on itself. In other words, the more realistic you try to be, the more realistic you're expected to be. If this was a lighthearted comedy, the ability to "let loose" is far more obtainable since comedies are inherently silly by nature. However, in the case of a serious spy thriller, a sudden shift in tone can cause unwarranted whiplash. No one will call foul if Zoolander breaks out in a dance number, but if the same is done in There Will Be Blood, you might as well return the Oscar. And it's this very conundrum that Joker Game finds itself in, because while it may appear to be the Dos Equis's "Most Interesting Man in the World," it often spills its liquor like the klutzy Bud Light frat boys it so desperately tries to avoid being. Due to the mostly episodic story structure, there's no true connective tissue holding anything together. As stand-alone episodes, they all bring varying degrees of engagement, but never anything to get invested into since there are no characters with definitive traits or overarching storylines to get immersed in. We're constantly introduced to a different mission and spy, or at least that's how it appears given the similar appearance of all the people involved. The only reoccurring character is that of Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki, the founder and head command of D Agency: the spy agency based off Japan that our spies report to. And even with his status as the only recurring character shown, the only intriguing thing divulged from his involvement is his backstory, which we don't get until the tail-end of the series. A backstory that, mind you, doesn't change how we view him, as he still remains an enigma. The main reason for why one was given to him, in the first place, was to showcase the type of temperament needed to become a spy—which by itself makes for a great thesis statement for the show as a whole—but as a means of endearing him to the audience, it offers nothing at all. Joker Game is just too impersonal, an anime that's more concerned with maintaining a rigid appearance than it does revealing any blemishes found with its human participants. And it's this very stiff impersonal approach that not only alienates it from viewers but also leaves very little leeway for mistakes to be swept under the rug. If you can't empathize with anything in a supposedly "realistic" story, expecting it to be met with forgiveness from the audience when it messes up is simply wishful thinking. And so, watching Joker Game became akin to watching a theater play from the mezzanine seating, entertaining but too distant from viewers to allow an intimate connection. So keeping that in mind, this anime functions like a loose anthology, to which its success is forced to be judged on an episode by episode basis. This may not seem like an unreasonable request at first, given how many episodic series has successfully navigated its way through similar setups, but that's before you account for the constraints that the show has placed on itself. For 12 episodes, Joker Game is expected to operate like a realistic spy thriller, unfortunately for it, that's a commitment it very seldom made in just 1, let alone 12. With each new spy and mission introduced, a new opportunity to fumble presents itself. And sadly, that's what happens as these episodes are split down the middle in terms of practicality. Like the varying level of engagement that each could bring, the level of plausibility also ranges as well. The fact that they're spies is often used to excuse away far-fetched solutions, which, at times, could be convincing given the skill set taught to these men, but when the ruse is painfully obvious, there's very little that could be done to course correct the issue. To give a spoiler-free evaluation, there would be solutions taken that was plausible, only for the following episode to exercise acts akin to Pink Panther excerpts. Suspension of disbelief could only get you so far, especially when dealing with a show that's desperately signaling that it has the know-how to pull it off while presenting leaps of logic that no amount of mental gymnastics is capable of excusing. You can't expect viewers to take something seriously while the content itself becomes farcical in nature. There comes a point where calling out bullshit is the only affirmative action left to take, and for Joker Game, that time arose far too often. For every instance that Joker Game is able to convince its audience, there are isolated scenarios that could be seen as satirical when viewed out of context. And again, had this been a show that wasn't so uptight about everything, this wouldn't be a jarring issue. But when you aim for realism and only half-deliver on that promise, there are very little passes that could be given to excuse the inconsistency. There's no levity, no quirkiness, no moment to unwind. Joker Game is simply too "adult" for that, and it doesn't always work out in its favor, especially when it's making a fool of itself. It could be said that a great deal of the title's authenticity came from its dedication towards upholding this disciplined portrayal. It certainly was the reason that I enjoyed it, regardless of the cartoonish moments. The blood-curdling sounds of a violin paired up with the interlaced beating of drums, as the bellowing timbre of an incoming choir ascends over the musical arrangements. The way the camera would follow one of our agents, gliding along as if docked on a dolly track, the entire scene letterboxed for added visual flair. Natural dialogue exchanges that avoided most of the zany back-and-forth that anime usually fall back on, choosing to use more realistic banter to help sell the scene. It's these aspects that sustained Joker Game when its screenplay was in danger of derailment. This may have resulted in many viewing it as "boring," given the grounded nature of everything, but when accounting for the subject matter in question, it was the right call to make. Had the show broken character, it would have caused more tonal whiplash than it would have helped. The result of which could be seen in the 4th episode's juvenile escalation from its relatively adult depiction to grossly overblown melodrama that it regressed into. This isn't a show that has the leg-room to indulge in anime-like commonalities. It's one of the least "anime" anime to have aired in 2016. The only way Joker Game could have walked out of this situation unscathed was if the writing was as airtight as the presentation. And sadly, this wasn't the case. Enjoyment: 7/10 Despite the issues plaguing it, each scenario never loses focus. Joker Game's headstrong commitment may have hurt it in the end, but it also serves as the reason why I enjoyed it. I loved seeing a more hard-edged, realistic depiction of spy-life. I loved the color palette and air of mystique. And when the show wasn't tripping over itself, I loved the tension it was able to capture in certain moments. Joker Game was fun, dumb at times, but still fun nonetheless. Overall: 6/10 Despite how commonplace spy-related media is in movies and novels, it's still a relatively obscure topic in the world of anime. What Joker Game had to offer may not have been as extensive as the subject matter would entail, but it did leave a distinct enough mark for me to want more. Its downfall was its pigheaded commitment to always being serious, regardless of how silly some of its solutions ended up being. Even with this in mind, I still think Joker Game was entertaining enough to warrant giving it a try. It had something to offer that very few in the medium have attempted to service. It adds to a landscape that's known for its diversity, and that's always a good thing in my book.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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Jun 17, 2016 Mixed Feelings
Carving out a niche appeal for itself in the market, Concrete Revolutio stands as one of the more unique entries in the ever-expanding superhero genre. Unlike its contemporaries, it doesn't just glorify superheroes while vilifying certain ideals deemed unethical by most societies but chooses to question the very fabric of justice and what it means to those with the power to implement their version of it. With superhero related content being produced ad nauseam, Concrete's unfamiliar approach help subside the impending feeling of 'superhero fatigue', by allowing the subject matter to be seen through a fresh perspective.
By treating superhumans and other supernatural entities as ... placeholders for the man vs man parable, Concrete is able to delve into several topics that draw from real world issues involving ethical dispute, social critique of post-war Japan and civil rights in general. This isn't to say Concrete's position is set on uncharted waters; the X-men franchise has long adopted this stance before this show's inception. But what Concrete does hold over titles of this similar vein is the approach it opts out to take. It presents us with multifaceted ideas regarding justice and what it truly means to be a superhero. This is displayed through the course of actions taken on a micro and macro-scale. For a broader overview, it's the policies implemented by the overseeing bodies of the Superhuman Bureau, which, since the events of season one's climax, has been growing increasingly totalitarian towards their ideas of "managing" the superhumans. This directly dictates the actions taken on a micro-scale, which brings us back to Jiro Hitoyoshi and the storyline that finally resolved his reasoning behind abandoning the Bureau in season one. This time, he isn't alone, as Raito Shiba also goes turncoat with him, due to his idea of justice not coinciding with the Bureau's newly adopted forceful approach. With a seemingly 'concrete' (excuse the pun) foundation set forth by season one to build off of, it appeared that season two should have seen smoother sailing. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case. This final installment to Concrete's story is a mixed bag. On one hand they resolve a lot of plot lines that was left up in the air from the 1st season, as well as peeling back the layers of its initial concept to allow for more think-pieces to flourish; but on the other hand its parent studio's infamy shines through more than ever, with contrived and often undermined narrative threads that have become the bread and butter of most of Bones's efforts as of late. For every praiseworthy endeavor achieved by this follow-up, there's an equally headache-inducing add-on that didn't work in its favor. For one, if you were invested into Jiro's character arc then this 2nd season would satisfy you, as the show did a commendable job in fulfilling that end of the bargain (even in the cross-hairs of the sporadic narrative it's a part of) . However, if you were invested in more than just that, and was curious as to how some major plot points were going to be resolved, then you'll find yourself running into many roadblocks to your destination (sometimes containing no destination at all). It quickly became apparent that the creators wanted to cover certain story beats but just didn't know how to get there, which resulted in several events being retconned in order to achieve the end goal that was already set in stone. It became a show that offered one ultimatum: either you follow Jiro's character arc and negate everything else around it, or you take it all in and find yourself perplexed at the forced narrative choices the show took to reach that intended mark. Jiro's revelation is like a double edge sword, it becomes the biggest highlight and as well as crux that keeps the title from elevating any higher than the concept would allow. On one hand, it brings his personal arc full-circle, allowing for a sense of finality to his tale, but on the other, the revelations that serve Jiro's story indirectly dilutes the storyline that came up to that point. It's like an M. Night Shyamalan plot twist, great as a spectacle to gawk at, but contrived when you retrospectively go over the story by order of events. It made an already messy plot even more muddled. And where my previous stance defended the show's writing as simply being harder to follow than usual but not inherently bad, I can no longer in good conscious defend the show any further. Forced retconning will never be something I advocate for. This new stance isn't limited to the story either, as these issues also stemmed into the character department as well. In my review for season one, I stated "These are characters who's definitive personality traits are only as interesting as their superpowers. They're better defined by what they can do than who they are." When I wrote that, I did so with the hope that with the continuation of this show, I could discuss their growth as individuals. Since the 1st season began in medias res and had finally resolved the case of Jiro's betrayal, I was hoping that the follow-up season would have more room to fill in the personality of the main cast that was neglected up to that point. Sadly the statement I made regarding their personality in my first review still carries over in describing them here. Outside of Raito Shiba, no one else is given the limelight to allow for further introspection. They're very paper thin by the time all the storylines intermix into the final act. All they have going for them are personality quirks, and with a subject matter being used as a way to traverse different ideals of ethics and justice, it was a wasted effort. There's good to be found with these characters, but the show never brought it out with the time it unjustly denied them to flourish. But despite these blemishes, there are still things here worth praising. One of which is the idea revolving around what it means to be a superhero. Even with the distinction, the governing bodies make towards the difference between humans and superhumans, there is never any generalized statements to categorize superheroes in specific.They're always referred to as superhumans or beasts but rarely is that extended to the common terms of super"hero/villains". Nowhere is this clearer than with Jiro's personal beliefs. In episode 7, during a conversation with someone, Jiro was asked whether he was a superhuman, to which he replied "No, I'm just a human that looks up to superhumans... For me, superhumans are those that can do what no human can do." This simple, yet brilliant exchange explains the psyche of Jiro better than most shows are capable of attempting. He identifies superhumans not by ability but by intent, and despite technically being a superhuman by standard definition, he himself doesn't cast himself in that light. It's unattainable to him, something he could desperately seek after but could never truly obtain. There's so much weight behind these words, and by extension, so much weight behind Jiro's strife. So when the show finally reveals its hand in regards to Jiro's backstory, it's a poignant one. This way of viewing what true superhumans are in a world filled to the brim with them adds a new layer to the show's ideas up to this point. Another area in which Concrete excelled was undoubtedly the show's audiovisual front. Bones brings their A-game once again, delivering the same wall-to-wall color and comic book inspired stippling (halftone) effects. Regardless of how messy the script became at times, Bones never fails to impress on a visual front. The opening song "Wareru Doukoku by ZAQ was also a step up, possibly outpacing the first depending on your taste in music. Mixing EDM with pop-rock, it hightailed the viewer into every episode, getting you pumped for the events to follow. The ending also held its own fairly well, making the sound mixing and visual direction a complete package. Enjoyment: 6/10 Despite the issues that impeded on my enjoyment of the series, I was still glad I stuck with Concrete. It lost my interest at times, and I often dismissed its decisions, but despite everything I was still satisfied with the overall experience. It may be a title I hesitate to recommend to others but did enough that I would encourage giving it a chance if someone was interested in starting it. Overall: 5/10 With everything finally on the table, did Concrete Revolutio fully deliver on the early promise it demonstrated? Well not entirely. While it brought closure to some things, the revelations it made to push certain agendas forward often felt like spur of the moment solutions to a problem far out of the creators' hands. Many intriguing parts were simply cut prematurely, stunting the outcome of many of season one's build up. In the end, the show suffered from being overambitious. It shot for the stars and drifted off course. Had it been revised, or even extended further, the outcome could have been more satisfactory. Even with that in mind, the moments where Concrete shined through it did so in spectacular fashion. It may have just been glimpses of what could have been, but they were great qualities nonetheless. Concrete felt like a passion project from all those involved. It didn't come off as something concerned about profit first but instead wanted to display its ideas for the audience to consume and ponder over. It may not be high up on my suggestion list but for that "art first, profit later" mindset, I say it's a title worth keeping on your radar.
Reviewer’s Rating: 5
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May 24, 2016
Kachou Ouji
(Anime)
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Rock 'n' Roll, the sound of sexual liberation, youthful revolt, and living in excess. Since its early induction in film and other media, this genre of music has become synonymous with the "live-fast-die-young" lifestyle, almost becoming a checklist shorthand in the process. Whether it be used mockingly (This Is Spinal Tap) or genuinely embraced (Nana), rock 'n' roll has become a cornerstone in establishing tone and character. A correlative feature eventually made it a faux-literary device whenever brought up in any media that denotes the lifestyle mentioned.
All of which brings us to the anime in question, Kachou Ouji (Black Heaven). A show about a ... nine-to-five schmuck going through a midlife crisis, who, through a series of ridiculous events, is pleaded by a blonde bombshell from outer-space to save the world by picking back up his musical instrument. With his guitar playing skills becoming the only way to protect mankind from annihilation, a life defined by decades of tedium has finally been reinvigorated. This is the tale of a former rock star who ended up cutting his blossoming career prematurely to raise his family. A decision that led him into the cubicle-space hivemind, beating away at his keyboard day in and day out in order to bring bread to the table. With nothing to look forward to but heaps of paperwork and business seminars, this otherworldly woman offers him an escape from his vapid lifestyle; a man past his prime given a second chance at what he loves. And in the process of playing his music to save humanity, he also—you guessed it—rekindle the fleeting youth of his glory days. If you haven't guessed by now, the story and premise of Black Heaven is not just literal, but also allegorical. It externalizes the inner turmoil that our protagonist is going through, creating a metaphysical environment that allows us as viewers the chance to examine him in the process. Its narrative structure and motifs are similar to that of other abstract works like FLCL (Fooly Cooly) and Abenobashi. While being nowhere as bombastic or eccentric as FLCL, it similarly handled the protagonist's midlife crisis to how FLCL handled its coming-of-age themes. With rock 'n' roll and the guitar being used as a motif to embody that youthful spirit and unkempt sexuality, what is seen on the surface is only as important as what they truly represent in our protagonist's life. This lends itself to several innuendos, some subtly surfacing to the foreground while others are shamelessly on-the-nose. Black Heaven is all about guided interpretation. Where some shows with this narrative structure may have some semblance of ambiguity as to what they're alluding to, Black Heaven is very upfront about what it represents, taking no detours to beat around the bush. Black Heaven is far from your typical anime outing, and perhaps no defining feature best establishes that than its targeted demographic itself. It should come as no surprise that a majority of anime is aimed at teens to young adults. Black Heaven's sense of humor and situational awareness is, first and foremost, directed towards older adults (which should be a no-brainer given the subject matter). It's an anime that thematically has more in common with Oscar-winner Crazy Heart than it does anything found in the medium's usual canon. It's not something that's trying to be gut-wrenchingly funny or instantaneously gratifying either, as it instead decides to draw humor and intrigue from relatable, commonplace issues that come with adulthood and all that it entails. It's a show that approaches the ordinary through a warped lens, never letting the growing pains of everyday life slip pass it. It's humorous because you "get it." You "get" the frustration that comes standard when dealing with an overbearing boss. You "get" how being caught up in the work environment could place distance in your social life, as well as your imitate relationships. You "get" how daily responsibilities can often strong-arm you into placing your hobbies on the back-burner. You "get" what our protagonist Oji Tanaka is going through, and in the process, chuckle at it, having experienced similar things yourself. And even if you haven't found yourself facing the same dilemmas firsthand, you've possibly seen this occur with your parent/guardian(s) in retrospect. If you're old enough to grasp these troubles, it's easy to appreciate the show's endearment and honesty in depicting the growing pains of being a worker-ant and family man. While most of Oji's problems were played up for comedic effect, there's still a general sense of pity draped over his situation. Here's a man unsatisfied with the status quo of his home-life to such an extent that there's a rift forming between him and his loved ones. With a son whom he feels alienated from and a marriage just going through the motions, Oji is at the end of his proverbial rope, dangling with nothing left but memories of his youth. And as surreal as the concept may get at times, the humanistic endeavors remain down to earth. The mundane meet surrealism, comedy meet sobering reality—Black Heaven juggles them simultaneously, resulting in Oji's journey being a roller coaster ride of failure and triumph. At one minute you're snickering at his misfortune, and by the next, you're rooting for his success. And while other named characters occasionally get screen-time, the story remains Oji's, and Oji's alone. It's his woes; everyone else is just along for the ride. And really, at the end of the day, that's all the show needed to do. There's just something inherently intriguing about viewing someone else's plight. We never want to be at the receiving end of these troubles, but seeing others work through theirs always manages to command viewer attention. And to keep that attention, the show straddles our lead with a few companion characters. One of which is the extraterrestrial-bombshell mentioned earlier, Layla Yuki. Apart from our protagonist, Layla receives the most screen presence throughout the show. With a compelling mystique and sultry demeanor, it doesn't take much for her to honey-trap Oji into submitting to her whims. She encompasses an innate desire, a type of sensuality that could only be birthed from unbound sexual freedom; which makes her not only a pivotal character but a symbolic presence as well. She's the embodiment of Oji's bachelor days, free of marriage, of parental duties, of responsibility. His desire for her is a desire for his former self, which ties into an unspoken real-life truth for a reason men of his age often cheat with women still at the prime of their youth. Yes, there's a sexual urge present, but the motivating agent on a subconscious level is often just wanting to feel "young" again. Aside from her, we're also introduced to a ditzy comedic trio (names irrelevant) who operate similarly to that of The Three Stooges. They often lend their assistance, whether it was requested of them or not, and usually end up being more trouble than they're worth. Despite serving no further purpose beyond their hijinks as comedic reliefs, they were a welcome addition to the show. This also extends to the other side characters as well. They don't demand your attention, but their inclusion was still well-received. They breathed life into the situations that they were a part of and contributed in their own little way to making Oji's expedition one that was far more wholesome than had it been a one-man show. Another aspect that adds to this journey is without question the music selection. Given that the show chronicles the life of a former rock star, a proper opening theme was in order. And what better way to get each episode kickstarted than by having the intro song be performed by John Sykes, a writer for the rock band Whitesnake and former guitarist for Thin Lizzy. The song "Cautionary Warning" from Sykes's 1997 album, 20th Century, served just the right amount of spunk and bravado needed to get you pumped up for each new episode. With a snarling cadence that could only be delivered by a veteran with experience in his craft and a guitar riff that's toe-tappingly infectious, the opening song is a love-letter provided by Sykes, boasting all the tricks he's acquired over his luxurious 30+ years performing in the music industry. Almost serving as a counterbalance to the electrifying opening, the closing track is a bubblegum pop number with hints of jazz and funk undertones. It's cute in a way that befits Black Heaven's warped sense of style and humor. But even after factoring in everything going for it, there are still many issues that plagued this anime. For one, despite the strength of the standout musical tracks, the actual musical selection was insufficient; often reincorporating an instrumental version of the opening theme for whenever the protagonist picks up his guitar. While the gradual progression of the song along with Oji's own progress in the show was a nice touch, the sheer amount of times the song was used did nothing but lessen its "pizzazz" as it continued onward. There are a few other accompanying tracks sparsely scattered throughout the show's run-time, but they were mostly drowned out by the Cautionary Warning tune's repetition. Unfortunately, this cut-rate mentality didn't stop there, as it also affected the visual presentation for Black Heaven. It's below average, even by the standards of late 90s animation. Reused sequences were often implemented whenever it was possible, and outside of a few keyframes demonstrating some semblance of quality, still-frames were often used to cut corners. On top of that, the character designs are widely inconsistent or reduced to misshapen blobs if they're in the mid-ground or further away. "Shoestring budget" is what immediately comes to mind when discussing Black Heaven's production value. This isn't one of those cases where you could make the counterargument of "it's supposed to look cheap." It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see Black Heaven wasn't high on the Studio heads' priority list. Outside of presentation issues, the show lacked screenplay polish that could have been tightened up with a script revision. This doesn't come as much of a surprise, given the chaotic state of the presentation at times. Where it's forgiven is the fact that the premise doesn't go to waste despite the blemishes spotted upon initial viewing. Some things just needed to be trimmed down a little more to allow for a better flow in the narrative. Despite these shortcomings, Black Heaven never felt bogged down by any of it; in fact, it could be argued (by some) that a few of these imperfections added to the show's charm. But that's more a matter of subjective preference than impartial assessment. It could have been assembled better but isn't handicapped by these drawbacks. What it lacked in pristine visuals, diverse sound selection, and a tighter script, it more than made up for with a sense of integrity and commitment to its tale. Black Heaven was born out of the need to tell one story, Tanaka Oji's story, and by extension, teach us to live life to the best of our capabilities; finding happiness regardless of the hand we're dealt. If you take the general storyboarding of American Beauty, add a dash of absurd allegorical visuals of Fooly Cooly, and filter it through a similar comedic lens of that of Welcome to the NHK, what you'd get is this humorous Japanese-salaryman monstrosity. Black Heaven was quite the surprise for me. Despite its humble offerings, Oji and company always manage to find a way to keep me entertained. And even when it played things out comically, the adult subject matter was always handled with a sense of responsibility. Cheeky, charming, funny, and oddly enough, sobering, Black Heaven is a title that teaches us to find the silver lining, even during times when we find ourselves in a depressing slump. It's not something that's going to blow your mind with groundbreaking revelations, nor is it a grandiose tale to defend earth (despite what the immediate premise alludes to). Where Black Heaven shines is in its commitment to telling a man's intimate struggle with no need for party tricks to keep the attentiveness of the viewer. It remains a small-scale identity crisis only inflated in relevance by the protagonist that's going through it. Where other titles would topple over with such self-imposed constraints, Black Heaven uses this very limited range as the driving force behind its narrative. It treats its audience with respect, trusting that they're mature enough to understand the intentions. There are not that many shows out there that could dare to do the same, and while a bit rough around the edges, its heart was in the right place. And for if only for that reason alone, Black Heaven has effectively become a mainstay among my cherished favorites.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Apr 8, 2016 Recommended
"Don't judge a book by its cover": a phrase that I'm sure many of us are familiar with, being one that has long transcended both generational and ethnic background to be used across the globe. A phrase that has taken on several reiterations, but still maintains the same direct message. It's simple, to the point, and always relevant when entering the world of any storytelling medium. As much as many of us would like to think that we could quickly discern the contents of a show solely off of the art cover and synopsis, there are times when we are all proven wrong.
Take the ... outward appearances of Mahou Shoujo Madoka★Magica and Gakkougurashi! for example. Both titles display an outer shell that could be described as innocent or even a bit too cloying upon first encounter. Had any veteran anime viewer taken a glance at them with no prior knowledge, it could be easy to understand if they had fallen for the façade. When any viewer becomes accustomed to familiarized signs in certain anime they've experienced before, it isn't out of character for complacency to kick in. Whether we want to or not, past experiences tend to lead to some subconscious rewiring of expectations for individual content we perceive later on. It's how we refine our viewing habits and why we tend to avoid certain things that set off red flags in our heads due to unsavory experiences. It's a primal reaction our ancestors had to avoid danger and one we adopted for more trivial things, like avoiding shows that aren't in our favor. It's a habit with polarizing results, but still, an understandable one we all share in one way or another. And if one were to glance at the outward appearance of Ajin, I'm sure the prenotion to judge it would take hold quickly. With promotional art and a premise that seem to enforce the trappings of a typical bishounen action romp, it isn't hard to see why that knee-jerk reaction to label it would occur. But what we see on the outside, and what we actually get, is a whole other story. While Ajin may pattern itself to other shows of that caliber, it quickly deviates from the tropes associated with it to become something far more promising. This anime is a book that screams one thing while the pages on the inside reveal another. The story takes place in a fictional universe where humanity stumbled upon the discovery of a new sub-species of beings dubbed the Ajin. Having the appearance of regular humans, the Ajins are thought to be immortal, while also possessing several supernatural abilities. Due to their documented cases' being extremely rare, they quickly become subjects of superstition. But all that changes when a resurgence of the species occurs in modern day Japan, bringing with it a new public frenzy that leads us into the narrative that unfolds before us today. What we have here is a fundamental case of man vs. "allegorical" man, something many of us is familiar with, whether we're aware of it or not. Every time there's a story that pits opposing ideals of beings capable of human-level thought, (whether that be man or beast), it follows the man vs. man conflict. This isn't always limited to one conflict either, as multiple topics tend to branch out from its inception, as demonstrated with movies like Dances With Wolves, or Cameron's Avatar, for the modern viewing audience. It's the tale of societal discrimination and xenophobic rejection of anything that doesn't align with someone's own principals. These are the stories that advocate awareness by providing social commentary with the human condition being used as its platform. These familiar tales are no stranger to the world of anime. You don't have to look far, with titles such as Parasyte and Shinsekai Yori adhering to this traditional narrative, both of which serve as ambassadors in anime's ability to craft this tale just as efficiently as anything found on the silver screen. But despite the commonality of these stories, it's still one that's easily botched when handled with little finesse, with titles such as Tokyo Ghoul and Terra Formars being testaments to that fact. Thankfully, Ajin isn't a case of the latter, although, I do hesitate to place it on the caliber of the prior entries mentioned that did this narrative right. If I had to give a comparative evaluation, I'd say it finds itself somewhere comfortably in the middle. While not as fleshed out as Shinsekai Yori or as multifaceted as Parasyte, Ajin still manages to hold its own. Instead of letting the subject matter marinate in the subconscious of the viewer, Ajin makes swift actions to drive home the messages quickly it wishes to convey. This gives room for a narrative that's always in motion, which is ideal for those seeking immediate results. And while this to-the-point approach may leave many of its concepts explored only on a surface level, it still allows for a more consumable binge-watching experience as a result. It prioritizes thrills over thematic pondering, which makes it more accessible to a broader market. This also makes Ajin an excellent gateway for those who want just to get their toes wet with heftier concepts, but aren't quite ready to dive in just yet. It sprinkles in commentary about our current populace's desensitized state, as well as touching upon ethical treatment taken by governing bodies. It does just enough to whet the appetite of the viewer and add flavor to its narrative. And for those who want just a little bit extra with their action, this might just be all that's needed. But despite that fact, there's still a barrier of entry for those willing to crack the spine of this anime, and that, of course, is the usage of 3DCG animation. Deciding to use 3DCG, similar to that of Knights of Sidonia, was probably the most significant deterrent for those who saw past the generic premise and appearance. And in all honesty, just hearing this news alone was perhaps the reason many overlooked this title altogether. Yes, the presentation can take some getting use to for viewers who don't find it aesthetically appealing, but for those not bothered by the occasional uncanny valley effect, the show remedied this problem better than most. Unlike Knights of Sidonia, the individual movements here show far more mobility. The soundtrack, composed of Gothic organs, booming Hans Zimmer-esque fog horn sections, heavy guitar riffs and more, also helped in compensating in places where the animation found itself lacking. It might not be by much for viewers who are bothered by even the thought of CGI, but it certainly made it a far more palatable experience for those that could see beyond that. The fights that occurred throughout the series weren't reduced to two people smashing fists with no rational thought but are rather tactical bouts where Ajins and humans alike use their strengths and weaknesses against each other. Even with the apparent advantage given to the Ajins, the human opposition still found many clever ways of exploiting their powers by using it against them. This was also the case for when Ajins clashed among themselves. The show went into a decent amount of detail in explaining the body mechanics of the Ajins as well as the extent of their abilities. And the more an Ajin was aware of its strengths, the better it was at utilizing it in and outside the battlefield. But perhaps the clearest demonstration of the show's deviation from its inherent trappings can be found with the main characters themselves. In order to avoid turning this into a long-winded analysis, I'll go over only the two prominent figures highlighted throughout the show. They were far from being the most fully-realized characters of the 2016 Winter season (that honor resides with Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu); however, they were still far removed from the cookie-cutter lineup that would come standard-fare with these stories. And what they may have lacked in development, they more than made up for with their distinct personality traits and interactions. They're simple, but at the same time, subjects which would make for interesting, if only brief, character studies. Take, for example, our main character, Kei Nagai. The first defining trait he exhibits immediately separates him from the atypical wide-eyed idealist or the hot-blooded teen that come almost default with his role. Instead of a rehashed archetype with only a different coat of paint to define him, what we get is a selfish misanthrope who places his own self-preservation and needs above others. Whether he had to be deceptive or fake empathy to weasel his way out of trouble territory isn't of concern to him. There are no delusions of grandeur festering in his mind; he is very much aware of the extent of his capabilities, as well as his amoral standing with the world around him. And while not entirely being pegged as a nihilist, he doesn't place trust in anything that isn't an irrefutable truth. Kei Nagai is a teen whom we've either seen or were at one point in our lives, which makes him one of the most honest depictions of this age group in some time. Unless he's given a feasible or self-beneficial option to assist someone, he will not go out of his way to aid them if it means placing his own life in harm's way. Anything outside of that is merely done out of forced guilt or social obligation. This underrepresented type of character makes him far from your garden variety, and as a result, an intriguing one to follow. And as much as some of us would like to take the moral high road in response to other people's suffering, the truth is most of us don't acknowledge it with any substantial sympathy. And it's for this reason that our protagonist becomes not only well-depicted but also easily identifiable for our modern society. Now, this isn't to say some won't find his actions deplorable; there are certainly lots of people out there with a healthy moral fiber, but his personality and actions are properly documented for the audience to understand his psyche, regardless of one's own personal ethics. He isn't going to fulfill the role of any white-knight advocate anytime soon, but in the context of the story he's placed in, his personality is tailor-made for the current social climate. And while Kei Nagai retains the central character role, the true star of the series was none other than Satou. Satou, also nicknamed "The Hat" by officials, is quite the enigmatic figure. With a hospitable, soft-spoken demeanor upon initial contact, he brings with himself an aura of accumulated wisdom, but lurking just below the surface of his thinly veiled smile lies a man with a very twisted moral compass. Like the hybrid of a cunning old fox and someone akin to that of Magneto from the X-men franchise, there's nothing he won't do to reach his intended goal. While wanting for the betterment of his Ajin brethren, the path he takes to get there is paved with the blood of opposition and bystanders alike, all while sadistically reveling in the madness he brews up. He's a charismatic demon in sheep's clothing, a man who nonchalantly goes about his business with no sign of remorse, which is made all the more menacing given his weathered age. Any youth can demonstrate raw ferocity towards someone, but it's the carefully calculated approach of a much older man that strikes fear into the officials in this series. Satou, for all intents and purposes, is the show's undisputed badass, a title he more than lives up to. Another character worth briefly addressing was Yuu Tosaki, an official who balances out the opposing ideals of Satou and Kei. He's your "all business no pleasure" kind of detective who is given the task to apprehend the Ajins by any means necessary. While he came across as one note, in the beginning, that is later alleviated with the reveal of his motivation. Outside of Yuu Tosaki, the rest of the secondary characters aren't fleshed out to any extent, but they are given distinct enough personality traits to make their inclusion warranted. All in all, the characters, whether essential or minor, helped in bringing the world and conflict to life. This title proves that even action shows can have some level of thought and planning placed into them. It never tried to be something far more than what it was and performed well with the material it had to work with. For those thinking that this would be just another bishounen-cock-fight title, I implore you to discard that premature notion and give this show a try. There was never a dull moment while watching this anime. With a plot that continued to push forward and main characters that always kept me on the edge of my seat, I found a great deal of enjoyment here. Satou's actions alone were more than enough for me to power through it. While the art was a bit off-putting at times, it never got in the way of me enjoying any part of the series. In terms of quality, it's somewhere between Tokyo Ghoul and Parasyte. If TG were McDonalds and Parasyte were a 5-star restaurant, then Ajin would be your local diner. Ajin was a show that could have easily dissipated under the weight of its own premise but managed to hold up incredibly well. With narrative choices and thoughtful insight that demonstrated a level of competency lacking in similar titles, Ajin has proven to be a show worth the initial investment. And with everything being taken into consideration, Ajin has become one of the few documented cases of an "edgy shounen" being done right.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Apr 1, 2016
Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu
(Anime)
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When I sat down to write this review I had a hard time condensing my feelings towards it into written format. This wasn't to say the story was complex; on the contrary, it was rather straightforward on paper. But when I tried to articulate my thoughts to virtual ink, nothing came to fruition. Then after I sat back and let everything that had transpired sink in, it just hit me, a simple word, yet one that was able to properly express the feelings that I had wadded up inside for this title. Simply put, Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu was poetic.
From the way it delicately ... crafted its narrative, to the organic transition in which its characters found their placement in it, everything Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu did flowed like a poetic stream of unfiltered consciousness. This anime exuded an aura of refinement and class that you don't come across often. It's a caliber quite deserving of the praise directed at it. In place of the spastic eccentricity and bubblegum characters commonly found in the world of anime, we're given a tranquil environment and genuine human emotion. Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu is a title that unveils a compelling story about flawed characters and their pursuit for true acceptance. If I could get just one other person to experience and spread the word of this gem, then my writing this was more than worth it. Delving into the world of Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu, or Shouwa, as I'll refer to it going forward, we're introduced to Yotarou, a dimwitted bushy-tailed man who's fresh out of prison. Having a deep yearning to practice and perform Rakugo, a Japanese form of verbal entertainment that's essentially stage storytelling, he seeks out an apprenticeship under the guidance of Yakumo Yuurakutei, a man well renowned for his performing prowess in the field of Rakugo. Despite what this initial premise would have you believe, the story isn't about Yotarou's journey under apprenticeship; in actuality, it chronicles his master Yotarou's life, along with his friend Sukeroku, as it showed how they dealt with the demanding requirements of the Rakugo industry, as well as the growing pressures that come with adulthood. Taking us back to his childhood, Yakumo "Kikuhiko" Yuurakutei places us at a time just before the boys met. And from then on the story blossoms on its own before coming to an inevitable stop due to an incident that's discussed during the initial episodes. While both boys found themselves in the world of Rakugo under similar circumstances, their relationship with the performing art itself differed vastly. Their relationship dynamic has been seen before: the polar opposites who don't see eye to eye. Yakumo's ying to Sukeroku's yang. The fundamentals of the story itself aren't what are impressive, but rather the manner in which it goes about executing it. Instead of simply following the standardized method established for this kind of narrative, we're instead thrust into a more introspective realm, with Yakumo's reminiscing in the form of a Rakugo itself. It's essentially a story within a story, which, on paper, sounds like a muddled mess, but oddly enough felt like the most organic method of absorbing the characters and viewer into the head-space of the tale. The Rakugo art form isn't only exemplified, but it's also utilized on a grand scale to encompass everything surrounding it. It's a form of immersion rarely experienced, basically the Inception of anime storytelling (And here we are, a review about a story, about a story, that contains stories... let's just leave that mindfuck alone). Everything that shapes the life of the zen-like Yakumo that we met in the first episode, to the reserved boy we meet in the past, all revolves around the influence of Rakugo, both on and off stage. We're given a detailed insight as to how this traditional Japanese storytelling works, as well as the lasting impact it left on the two boys that grew up to master it. What made this anime so engaging was in the way it went about layering these characters. Nothing is ever explicitly stated outright. Everything from the small mannerisms they display, to the introspective moments that draw no attention to themselves, as well as the way in which they interacted with each other, all helps to add layers to the characters on screen. It's "show don't tell" at its finest. And as their upbringing and personality shape the type of Rakugo they performed, it also shaped what kind of person they ultimately became. In a way, it could be said that an individual's style of Rakugo indirectly reveals the kind of person they secretly are. It's a window into their soul; as saccharine as that statement may sound, there's no better way to describe it. With Sukeroku, what was outwardly presented in his performances was the common tongue of the people. With a brash and often schmaltzy performance, he didn't care for the social constructs that the world of Rakugo wanted to build. He did it to make the people happy. And just like his style would outwardly portray, his Rakugo revealed what was truly lying dormant within him. The same also applied to Yakumo, a man who always tried upholding himself to a high standard, following the guideline of Rakugo to the letter. He too was exposed by his style of Rakugo. Rakugo provided the duality that neither would dare reveal out in the open. Like I said, it's simply poetry, a dance between what is shown and what is truly meant to be seen, or rather what is meant to be uncovered. These characters are deeply flawed but made all the more realistic because of that. They're selfish, pigheaded, condescending, but also broken, affectionate and just looking for a place they belong. There's no antagonist here, just entangled personalities trying to find their way. Outside of the two male characters, another character worth mentioning was Yurie, who is without question the biggest catalyst who drives the actions taken by the two male leads involved during the show's more personal moments. She's a character whose environment and past experiences did far more than mold her; they broke her. Like the others involved in the story, she masquerades herself as someone who's in control. And it's her need for co-dependence that creates a rift that ripples throughout all crucial events in the story. Seeing that her involvement is integral to many of the major events throughout the narrative, I won't say anything more about her involvement. Just know that without her, many of Shouwa's more poignant moments wouldn't have exfoliated into the scenes that we were gifted with. Like the art of performing Rakugo itself, the story also manages to perform and balance a vast array of tonal shifts throughout the narrative without feeling forcefully steered in directions. This, as a result, allowed for comedic scenes to transition seamlessly into sobering reveals without causing any tonal whiplashes. And in a story that revolves around the delicate balance between stage performances and real life drama, that balance was greatly needed. The project was handled by studio Deen, which by anyone's account, is a scary thing, given their track record, but with Shouwa they actually stepped their game up. The movements and gestures of the characters showed great range and fluidity, which is a vital thing for a show that's revolved around the mannerisms of stage performers. No noticeable shortcuts were taken, and the finished product looked quite pleasing. The opening and ending themes were excellent, with the intro song "Usurai Shinjuu " by Megumi Hayashibara, carrying a sort of sultry/smoky jazz appeal to it. The ending theme also held up on its side with a soothing soft trumpet piece that gently set things off on a tranquil note. In many ways Shouwa acts out like a Shakespearean play, in that regardless of time period or societal upbringing, the messages it explores are primal and very much a part of what it means to be human, may that be the yearning for love and acceptance, malice born from envious desires, choosing to follow gut instinct instead of rationality or just forming bonds with others for mutual benefit. Shouwa unveil these layers of human pathos in a way that invokes authentic sentiments. This anime sets a benchmark that many would have a hard time following. Enjoyment: 9/10 This show was easily the most engrossing seasonal title I've watched from the 2015/16 lineup so far. It left an impression that so few have and had some of the most realistic anime characters I've seen in recent memory. This easily became a new favorite of mine. Overall: 8.5/10 If there were ever a dark horse for the 2016 Winter season, this title is it. Sadly overlooked by many, Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu is a show that quickly ushered you out of the cold and into the warm embrace of its heartfelt narrative. The more time you spend with these characters, the harder it became to say farewell. This might not be for everyone, given the slower pacing and absence of anime tropes associated with the medium, but for those who want something more than the usual offerings expected, I cannot suggest this enough. It's truly a work of art.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Mar 31, 2016
Sushi Police
(Anime)
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Not Recommended
Sushi Police was a satirical social commentary that's based on the actions of the Japanese Minister of Agriculture, Toshikatsu Matsuoka, who, upon eating at a place he deemed unauthentic for serving sushi alongside Korean BBQ, proposed an idea that would see to it that a dispatch unit of undercover inspectors would go around secretly evaluating sushi to determine its authenticity. Those that pass this secret inspection would receive the approval to be listed as "authentic," as well as sponsorship deal on a Japanese government website. And like this ludicrous idea that received huge media backlash in 2006, this too was equally panned by the few
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anime viewers that saw it.
The anime turned the real-world incident into a big, dumb, nonsensical spoof that saw these "Sushi Police" do exactly as this proposed idea would suggest: inspect sushi. This then led to non-comedic hijinks, espionage, and sushi-zilla... or at least that's what I vaguely remembered when I was picking my nose. Sushi Police desperately try to lampoon Japan's nationalistic sense of pride but don't know how to do so without being on-the-nose about everything in the worst way possible. It's a show that becomes a self-defecating satirical piece with as much integrity as the Korean BBQ that launched its inception. Do I suggest this? No. Even with those that are aware of the events that surrounded the creation of this anime, the actual product was still drab. It isn't funny, it isn't insightful, and it isn't going to encourage any sort of discussion. However, what it will encourage is a nice 3-minute nap. It was simply 2deep4me bruh. After I watched it, cried, self-defecated all over my couch, curled up in a fetal position and I rocked myself to sleep.
Reviewer’s Rating: 2
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