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A Flip Flappers Review

This is a series that really had me going for a while. I knew almost nothing about Flip Flappers going in, and to my pleasant surprise, the show made me want to learn everything about it within a couple of episodes. It presented something that felt so fresh and original while also displaying an unspoken variation on that of which it was derived. Building off of magical girls in magical worlds, Flip Flappers reimagined what came before it with a heaping amount of playful ambiguity and managed to stay utterly engaging despite how thoroughly confounding the show probably would’ve looked to be ... on paper.

The first three quarters of the season exemplified this, as we watch the main character Cocona get dragged into a world of “Pure Illusion” by Papika, a girl who’s seemingly very innocent, passionate, and hard to communicate with. We’re given about as much information about this strange new place (and the strange people entangled with this situation) as Cocona is, which is to say barely anything at all. “Pure Illusion” is what the name implies, and exists in a space separate but connected(?) to reality. These two, who originality meet by Pure chance, have the ability enter these worlds and search for “amorphous fragments”. Nothing is explained about what these things do or why they need to be collected, we just know that Papika has a desire to collect them.

The show is full of unclear motivations, be it with the immensely ominous organization of assumed villainy or the tiny group of underdogs that are seemingly the “good guys”. It’s all a matter of only answering the most rudimentary question of “what it is they want”. For most of the season it’s not revealed why exactly they want these fragments or how they’re going to go about utilizing them. With such bare-bone motivations, it might be hard to imagine just how this show could be so compelling without a firm grasp on the stakes at play.

Well as it turns out, clear-cut stakes aren’t always necessary in capturing a viewer’s full attention. By putting a heavy focus on the characters, Flip Flappers directs its narrative spotlight away from the plot and instead concentrates on the two main characters and their growth. As Cocona’s and Papika’s relationship goes back and forth between love, resentment, confusion, and other neurotic emotions, we’re able to witness Cocona open herself up and also shut herself in as she tries to make sense of what exactly is happening. Their personalities complete each other, as Cocona has quite the anxious spirit, but also just enough indecisiveness that she’s able to be dragged along by Papika’s innocent fearlessness. Together they take part in the joys of unbridled adventure, and no adventure would be complete without a few hurdles.

As if these random worlds of pure imagination weren’t already dangerous enough, Cocona and Papika turn out to have some competition. Cocona’s childhood friend Yayaka turns out to be some sort of trained hunter of amorphous fragments, and alongside her are two monotone sidekicks that seem to be robots because of their complete lack of compassion, but it’s never actually delved into. All we know is that they work for that ominous evil group. Of course, only the audience gets a glimpse of this and not Cocona, but the villainous force behind these three is a massive cult with an unknown goal and an unmeasured amount of power at their fingertips. It’s only to be assumed that they are in fact “evil”, but it’s a pretty safe bet considering their outfits look like the KKK. An interesting choice, but race has ultimately nothing to do with the show. Instead what I think was meant by this aesthetic choice was to convey a sense of overwhelming and misguided desire for purity. Anyway, the mysterious ambition of the group remains unwavering, but Yayaka herself is not quite as committed. As the story progresses, she begins to show her feelings for Cocona and how those emotions are a detriment to their cause whenever the girls end up fighting over amorphous fragments. And that’s about when we get into the final quarter of the season.

The way the show set itself up to be until this point was something I thought was extraordinary. I felt like I knew so much about these characters in a raw, impassioned sense, rather than in a manner of just learning the cold, hard details. Flip Flappers didn’t tell me a damn thing, and it really felt like the show expected viewers to understand the basic formula of the action genre because it wouldn’t explain almost any of it. It would play with these illusionary settings to illicit certain response from its characters as well as convey things about them through the environment. Episode 6: “Pure Play” for example, plays with color and memory, contrasting warm, homely recollections with cold, morose reminders of loneliness and pain, all by having individual characters and settings colored with either shades of orange or blue.

It was thoroughly engaging and thought provoking, as Flip Flappers treaded the not often taken path of showing its story rather than telling it. Not that either approach is necessarily better than the other, but Flip Flappers started with the former and I was hoping it would stay that way. Instead, it suddenly devolves into a very contrived exercise of needless exposition. Certain characters sit in a very mundane setting as one of them explains to the other their view of what exactly is going on, and why the fate of the world depends on it. Then the show flashes back to the cause of Pure Illusion and makes sense of how these characters got to be entangled in it, in a very straightforward fashion. The story becomes something else entirely, and while I don’t think the final twist is at all a bad one, it lacks the narrative presentation that made the show unique in the first place.

Without getting into spoilers (I’ll save that topic for another time), motivations are made clear by the end, yet the show still has some non-philosophical or particularly interesting questions left unanswered. Certain characters are introduced for what appear to be absolutely no reason. Specifically, a loli character with a ridiculous outfit that serves no practical purpose whatsoever. There’s also an art student that’s around for about two episodes then just disappears, plus we never really learn anything about the amorphous twins or what they do after it’s all over. It’s strange that the show is leaves these random things ambiguous, when just a moment ago it seemed to want to explain everything to its audience.

The ending, while I think strong at its core (again, saving that discussion for later), is a bit random and what surrounds it is poorly thrown together. It starts to lose focus on Cocona and Papika, which was the most powerful thing the show had going for it. The center of attention stretches too far as it allows characters with almost no screen time up until this point to suddenly have important roles to play, which just ends up feeling like a feeble attempt to tie everything and everyone together. The show has three distinct characters’ worthy of attention, and it probably should’ve just kept that focus rather than throw in more needless elements that don’t all entirely come into fruition.

It’s a true shame considering most of the show was a Pure delight. The animation is superb, the action is incredibly satisfying, and the settings of Pure Illusion range from wondrous and awe-inspiring to very contained and deliberate in conveying a sense of characters and relationships. Not only that, some of the worlds seem to be forms of charming parodies, like the desert wasteland reminiscent of the planet Tatooine from Star Wars.

Now before I end this review, I’d like to give spotlight to my favorite character: Papika. She is a very interesting type of character, one that I can only recall in all my history of watching anime one other time. While she isn’t explicitly defined to be this kind of person, it seems to me that she indeed has some form of mental impairment. Her compulsiveness, strange social behavior, single-minded persistence, and limited speech patterns; I’ve only researched a little about it for this review, but I’m pretty certain it has to be autism. And that’s a really interesting and hard to understand perspective, not only to introduce in a story, but to create as a main protagonist. The way she shares the stage with Cocona demonstrates that regardless of mental impairments, they’re both equals. Then their reliance on each other show they’re both incomplete. And I guess I just find Papika to be the more fascinating side of the relationship because her disabilities and incredibly innocent outlook on life offer a perspective not as common as the insecurities that ail Cocona and define her personality.

For the most part, Flip Flappers is unabashedly unique and adventurous. While I was personally disappointed in how thing play out in the end, it couldn’t possibly ruin the intrigue and elation I’d felt leading up to that point. Its settings are amazingly vibrant, creative, and push characters in smart directions while sometimes telling even more about them than the dialogue itself. The characters will certainly stick with me, and although I’m glad their story was contained within a single season, I also can’t help but long for more. Without a doubt, watching Flip Flappers was a…Pure joy *snickers as everyone reading this rolls their eyes*.

A Sound! Euphonium 2 Review

The first season of Sound! Euphonium was “utterly fantastic” (quoting myself from my review of season one). It took me by surprise and delivered something thoroughly thought provoking. Characters were handled flawlessly, hackneyed themes were dodged with grace, and not a moment of my time felt wasted as I embraced its concepts of what it means to be a part of something, and what it means to be special. It was undoubtedly a brilliant season, and unfortunately for KyoAni, the sequel would have to be held to those standards. So that begs the question: Did KyoAni reach or surpass the heights ... it set for itself with season one?

Short answer: No. Long answer? Well, it all starts with the character arcs. Sound! Euphonium 2’s first arc focuses on a character that’s been in the band all along, but hasn’t gotten a single spotlight up until this point. Mizore is an introverted oboe player with a lot of potential despite the deep misery that weighs her down. Without getting too into the details, I found myself actually liking this character a lot, despite how minimal her relevance to the overarching plot may be. At the very least, her story put a couple of important dynamics and themes into play, ones that easily resonate through the rest of the season. It’s during this arc that we begin to see the relationship between Natsuki and Yuuko (which will be important later on), as well as our first closer look into Asuka. The themes are a little more thinly veiled in this arc, as it pretty clearly introduces the ideas of “what people play music for” and “loving or hating competition”.

Between the two main story arcs of the season is an interesting and seemingly out of nowhere look at Kumiko’s older sister, Mamiko. The general themes that surround her are ones of regret and misunderstanding adulthood. These of course are conveniently in Kumiko’s mind as she confronts a similar issue with Asuka, who finds herself stuck between the wishes of her overbearing/abusive mother and her own desires. While I’m certainly not a fan of typical ham-fisted attempts at emotional resonance through the introduction of broken homes and public displays of abuse (slap to the face), Asuka’s stupid mother manages to not be visually around long enough to irritate the crap out of me. She only actually appears for one episode, although the presence of her ideals last for far longer.

Those ideals happened to be the same ones that deluded Mamiko into thinking that giving up her dreams for studying and the safer bet of a financially stable future through education was the best course of action, only to leave her with nothing but regret. The idea of adult responsibilities and expectations, and how those thoughts can scare and bully people into not taking a chance. Asuka’s mother forces her ideals on her daughter, driven by this delusion as well as an implied spite of Asuka’s father, who actually did obtain the life he wanted as a musician. Luckily, the whole situation is handled without the terrible mother, in a way that stresses Asuka as the only person that can choose for herself, because that’s what it truly means to be an adult (at least, that’s what I inferred). I also like how Asuka understands her relationship with her mother. She hates her but also sees that she’s provided for her, which is enough for Asuka to have some respect for her. It’s certainly better than ignoring the flaws in one’s family.

And really, that’s just another part of Asuka’s character. She’s usually so keen on seeing things for what they truly are, but after a while, arrogance keeps her from being able to take a good look at herself. That’s where Kumiko comes in. Kumiko is the shoulder we get ride on as she snoops and stumbles upon every conflict within the band. She’s more of a witness than an active participant in the first half of the season, and while people find themselves more open to talk to her, she doesn’t act the same way back. In the first season, Reina’s determination and attitude inspires her to become a less “go with the flow” kind of gal. In this season, she finds out she’s just as wishy-washy as she’s ever been. Even when she’s alone with Reina, she’s only able to give off a basic idea of what’s on her mind. It’s only when Asuka challenges her that Kumiko finally learns to be open and honest with herself.

Reina has some great moments too, dispersed throughout the two main bulks of the season’s narrative. Mostly, her spotlights are to show how close she’s getting to either Kumiko or Taki-sensei. Even so, her presence is done right, which is more than I can say for most of the show’s other “supporting characters”. Midori and Hazuki feel like nothing but comic relief in this season, which is disappointing since Hazuki had such a great OVA. Now it seems they’re just around to remind us of their existence, and to have a quick gag every now and then. Shuichi’s in a similar situation, but it’s not for the sake of comedy. Honestly, I don’t know what he’s there for. Nothing about his relationship with Kumiko is romantic, no matter what seemingly romantic situation they’re thrown into. Kumiko doesn’t even blush at the gift he gives her, and nothing about her thoughts or focus indicate that she has any real interest in him. The only side characters that really come into prominence this season are Yuuko and Natsuki, and that’s for reasons I don’t really want to spoil. I’m beginning to like Yuuko though, she’s much less annoying than when she was first introduced last season.

Characters and their plots aside, season two is still about as good as the first in a lot of ways. The animation is fantastic as always, with such an excellent control over body language and subtle physical comedy. Instead of relying on cheap still frames of chibi faces with exaggerated emotion for comedic effect, KyoAni actually goes through the trouble of animating their character’s reactions in excruciating detail. From the direction their eyes race to the way their skirts flap as they turn, it’s totally unnecessary, but a joy to behold.

Another aspect carried over from the first season is the totally superfluous sound design. It’s honestly absurd if you think about it, but KyoAni really went out of their way to make their settings feel realistic through sound. They actually gave detail to the reverberation, and you can tell through the way voice and music travel in different scenes. Conversations in a stairwell or an empty room echo, and that’s totally fucking unnecessary, but really cool nonetheless.

In terms of moments, I think this season did reach new heights for the series. On the other side however, I believe the show hit some new low points as well. Specifically, I can’t help but feel the show didn’t do a great job of maintaining the relevance of its characters. Or rather, it tried to keep characters relevant when it didn’t need to, and only made them seem like they’re worth a couple of cheap gags rather than feel like meaningful friends and integral roles in the plot of the season. If they didn’t need to be there, they might as well have taken a back seat. And then there’s the new instructors that did almost nothing, which left me questioning why they even bothered to introduce them in the first place. Kumiko, Asuka, Reina, Natsuki, Yuuko, Mizore, Mamiko, and Taki-sensei; These are the only characters that hold any sort of significance in the season’s narrative, and even Mizore kinda just becomes another one of those side characters after her arc is over.

If it weren’t for this sad underuse of characters, Sound! Euphonium 2 could easily be considered as good (if not better) as season one. Everything else is still there, be it the development of core characters, touchingly real themes, ridiculously impressive animation and sound design, and a beautiful OST. They even took some opportunities for creative shots (like the scene where they found Mizore behind a desk). It’s too bad the show had problems being stuck between having characters stay relevant and keeping them out of the way, because I would’ve otherwise considered it a fantastic season that ends on a sharp, but wonderful note.

A Kizumonogatari: Nekketsu Review

Kizumonogatari really goes out of its way to look and feel different, doing so in a fashion so gratuitous yet overwhelmingly desirable that I can’t help but want more. Starting with the setting itself, Nekketsu follows up on Part 1 with its continued use of a 3D rendered setting. Normally you might expect the combination of 2D and 3D to not work out well, with either the characters or the environment feeling out of totally out of place. In this however, it’s an awe-inspiring mixture of extravagant animation and the skillful mimicking of live-action cinematography. Kizumonogatari makes use of this combination in ... ways that you wouldn’t expect to actually look good, utilizing tilts and pans which you might assume would make the 2D character models appear even more flat, and instead creates shots that are much more compelling and intense.

The attention to detail in the 3D setting is most likely the greatest contributor to actually making the computer generated images “work” (although the quick and precise camera work has a large part to play as well). Specifically, the lighting, shadowing, and reflections all have a major role to play in making the world of the film look ideal, and in a lot of ways, real. Light and shadow are critical in creating believably 3-Dimensional objects, but to create a truly realistic setting you mustn’t neglect the many reflective surfaces of everyday life. Kizumonogatari doesn’t disappoint when it comes to the details, and it exhibits a complete and utter mastery that surpasses any and all reasonable expectations. All that, paired with grandiose architecture and scenery that the monogatari series is known for, this film manages jaw-dropping scenes of an impressive variety ranging from the fabulously intense to the astonishingly serene.

Moving on to a focus on the characters, as well as a focus on the camera’s focus of the characters, it’s utterly delightful how much expression is delivered through the close-ups of this film. Though predominantly Araragi and Hanekawa, almost all of the characters make complete use of their close-up time in conveying emotions. Their facial expressions exemplify so much of what they’re feeling at any given moment; it’s remarkable just how excruciatingly painful things look when just given the facial expressions of Araragi, or how imposingly malevolent Episode seems to be in the heat of battle. And outside of the fights, feelings of reluctant embarrassment and cheeky skepticism come off just as strong.

Another signature of the monogatari series, the editing of this film is just as sharp, agile, and wildly hilarious as you’d expect it to be. On a personal note, one of the things I love most about the series is how it’s able to inject comedy into any situation, going much farther than you’d think is possible without overstepping the boundary of where it becomes hokey and depreciative. Kizumonogatari amplifies this even further, making some gags hit especially hard with jump cuts and non-diegetic imagery. The whimsical and avant-garde nature of the film makes it so much more than just a viewing experience. It’s as if the movie itself is playing with its audience and going the extra mile to make sure we’re all having a fun time.

But as wonderful as it was, this film was not perfect. I mean, I’ll give it a 10 anyway because I’m a biased SHAFT fanboy and numbers are pretty meaningless to me anyway, but I do have a few gripes that somewhat relate to the consistencies between the novel and the movie. I normally don’t like comparing a movie to the books they’re based off of, because adaptations are not inherently meant to precisely embody its source material, and making judgements based on how it didn’t live up to the base that exists in a different storytelling medium is usually pretty unjust. That all being said, I thought the villains in the film lacked a lot of dialogue and consequentially a lot of character. In the book, they’re given plenty of lines, and Episode’s even given a catch phrase. However, in the film’s interpretation, they’re just obstacles to be overcome. Having villains with depth is obviously preferable in most instances, at least for me, because that essentially raises the stakes. Understanding motivations for the hero is one thing, but being able to see the point of view of the antagonist, and being able to relate to them on some level, can be much more thought-provoking.

Other than the villains not being compelling characters however, I’d say this film was an absolutely marvelous experience. Kizumonogatari: Nekketsu knows how to experiment and perfect almost every single aspect of itself, presenting its unique mastery of visual design, cunning cinematography, and brilliantly whimsical editing, to far exceed our necessary requirements of captivation. And I haven’t even addressed the musical score, which is full of fantastic jazz renditions that really add to the whole “film noir” motif that the movie also has going for it. While it does suck that film was arbitrarily cut into three parts, it’s still incredibly satisfying to witness an hour of this extraordinary piece of art.

A ReLIFE Review

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting ReLIFE to be very good. From the very first episode it was clear that this show wasn’t a powerhouse in terms of visual design/animation. It was almost as if my screen screamed “low budget” the moment I laid eyes on it. This didn’t necessarily have to be a problem, as all it takes is a little creativity and/or skill to work around the confinements of time and money. For one reason or another however, ReLIFE lacked the ingenuity to create any sort of visual spectacle throughout the season’s entirety. The show went with a very basic, but ... very consistent style. While it was at no point an eyesore, it was also at no point something worthy of awe. Backgrounds were no more than sufficient and background crowds ended up being less appealing due to lack of details/movement.

Character design however, was done quite well. Still not extraordinary, but ReLIFE does manage to create characters with distinct physical properties and overall pleasant appearances. Which I guess is to be expected with any self-respecting show, but whatever. They look good, and they’re memorable. One thing I will call the show out on though is an over-reliance of comical chibi faces. I don’t really consider ReLIFE to be a comedy, it’s certainly not styled or focused like one. Sure, there are obvious jokes and genuine laughs to be had in every episode, but mainly the show seems lean more towards slice of life and drama rather than a constant aim for humor above all else. If ReLIFE were to just cut down a bit on chibi and focus on creating more moments of subtle humor, I feel the show would be better off for it. But perhaps that’s just personal preference.

As for the music of the show, the beginning of the season consisted of the same piano rift played at different paces, in different scenes, to try and match the mood being set. A lot of times this just came off as distracting, and often I’d question whether individual scenes would be better off without any background rhythm whatsoever. Eventually the show evolved from its basic piano rift and by the end it had some actual variety in its soundtrack.

While musically and visually ReLIFE wasn’t much over adequate, it still had a chance to prove itself worthy through its storytelling. ReLIFE starts off as a fairly basic deadline narrative where our 28-year-old protagonist, Kaizaki, is given a chance to take a year off from his depressing NEET life. He’s approached by business man (and soon to be supporter) Ryou with a proposal to take part in an experiment. The corporation (ReLIFE) that he works for has developed a miracle drug that they want to test on Kaizaki, a drug that will turn his body back to its teenage form and give him the chance to re-experience high school. He only has a year however, and everyone he meets and befriends with have their memories wiped clean of existence as he returns to his adult life.

Essentially it feels like ReLIFE traps itself from the beginning, offering what seems like only two outcomes: The show is going to end on a bittersweet note where he gets to remember his friends and everything he’s learned from them, and his friends still remain affected by him but will sadly forget about him as a person OR the show will just break its own rule that it set for itself, copping out for a happy but perhaps ill gained conclusion. In storytelling, if you create your own rule then you better stick to it, because it is in no way clever to go against that rule just to service your shitty, unearned resolution. Luckily, ReLIFE doesn’t do this and actually offers up a plausible and exciting third option, one which I won’t disclose any further because of spoilers.

At the end of the first season, ReLIFE does prove itself to be a plot with a plan, which honestly is quite a relief. The end of the first season isn’t the end of the series however, and that leaves me questioning how there could possibly be a full second season that doesn’t feel prolonged. The first season did feel a bit stretched thin and some characters do seem like they should be squeezed dry of any more dramatic conflict by now. Kariu in particular is used as the center of almost every issue and the season as a whole. There are two problems specifically that are essentially the same lesson being learned twice, which leaves me skeptical as to why she would repeat the same mistakes rather than taking her bad experiences and using them to avoid once again in the future.

Other than Kariu, I’d say the characters themselves are pretty solid. It’s interesting to see the levels of perspective tied to them, with Oga, Honoka, and Kariu being the core and average high schoolers. Then there’s Chizuru and Kaizaki, who are sort of outsiders compared to the “normal” students, followed by An and Ryou who in turn are even further outside the center and watch the others from a distance with Kaizaki as their intended focus as well as his effect on others.

ReLIFE the corporation still remains mysterious by the end of this season and the true purpose behind their experiment is still yet to be revealed. That, plus the romantic entanglements and conclusion to Kaizaki’s ReLIFE experience are probably enough to keep me enticed for future installments. The plot shows that it has an idea of where it’s heading and the characters are likeable. It’s a shame that the show couldn’t come up with more skillful or creative animation, because it seems to be the only big thing that’s holding it back.

Why Is Love So Hard? - An "I've Always Liked You" Review

I did not like I’ve Always Liked You. To put it bluntly, this 1-hour and 3-minute long movie is shallow, generic, and all-around meaningless. Its sole purpose is to showcase the moments of high love confessions, in ways that are neither clever nor original. Just like many other stories in the genre of romance, I’ve Always Liked You uses these confession as a sort of “payoff”, yet it doesn’t offer up any kind of worthwhile setup for them. The characters are also unmemorable and lack any compelling motivations or adversities. While the animation and ... music are of an acceptable quality, from a narrative standpoint this film is plain mediocre. But let’s dig a little deeper than that, shall we?

First let’s take a look at the characters and the respective narratives they fit into. The main plot centers around Natsuki and Yu, the token childhood friends that actually DO end up together. Yu is the nice guy that’s always been there for Natsuki, he’s kinda cute and that’s about all there is to his character (all the characters are about this shallow by the way). Natsuki is just a loveable tomboy who’s shy about her feelings like everyone else in this movie, and for some reason wears sweatpants under her school uniform. At the beginning of the film, she confesses to Yu and then quickly retracts that confession, playing it off as “just practice” for the person she’s really in love with. Then the entire movie passes before she comes back to him and confesses for real. Leading right up to that moment was a bunch of still-frame flashbacks to their childhood, showing all the times that Yu had been considerate to Natsuki, serving as evidence to why Natsuki likes him in the first place. It’s pretty shallow because they never actually show a genuine, written out moment between the two for portraying how and why they feel the way that they do. I’d liken it to watching a slideshow at a wedding for people you barely know. Oh boy, it’s the bride and groom as children moving up to the point that they’re at now, except I don’t really know who they are and wasn’t there personally for these moments so this doesn’t really affect me at all. *makes fart noise with tongue*

Next there’s Akari and Souta, the cute purple haired girl and the guy who falls in love with her for solely superficial reasons. It’s that sort of “love at first sight” catch-22, where it’s really not meaningful at all if they actually fell love at the sight of each other, because that makes their relationship based off looks and not personality. There is a bit of reason beyond that very base level of affection, as Akari does have a moment of appreciation for the act of kindness she witnessed Souta perform slyly on a train. In Souta’s mind however, it’s basically a matter of “I like her, how can I make her mine?”. Of course, it sounds a lot more innocent coming from him, but by the time he finally works up the courage to ask her out he comes off as borderline misogynistic. The nicest way to put it would be that he has a very “traditional” mindset, and he basically demands her to make lunches for him every day because that’s what good girlfriends do…ugghh.

As for Miou and Haruki, they secretly like each other and nothing happens.

Finally, there’s Koyuki, and he’s in love with Natsuki as well. This white-haired shy-boy asks her out to a HoneyWorks concert and then needlessly walks her home after it’s over. He ends up not being able to control himself and hugs her under the soft glow of a street lamp, illuminating them in the night for all the neighbors to see. They didn’t really do anything inappropriate, but Yu comes barging out anyway and takes Natsuki away from Koyuki. Natsuki cries but quickly gets over it by the next morning and that’s about it.

Overall, this film is wholeheartedly hollow and unoriginal in terms of both plot and characters. There’s virtually no conflict, and these downright privileged students have nothing to overcome but a very basic sense of nervousness. There is not one single hurdle put in front of these characters that prove to be even the tiniest bit difficult, and they lack any significant flaws that could hinder them. Without having to go through any remotely serious strife, what makes their achievements important, or anything they do in life compelling? And the only answer I can come up with is: nothing. This story is a very simple answer to a very simple question: If you like someone, summon the courage to tell them your feelings. And then everything will be fine because it turns out they like you too. While it might be entertaining to watch cute high school students to go through the motions of romance, there is absolutely nothing consequential to learn from this particular experience. And that’s a shame because it actually looks quite pretty.

From the beginning, Hanasaku Iroha immediately sets itself apart from other typical shows within the same genres. The show seems to be aware of the tropes and conventions that are usually tied to romance comedy dramas, and so it actively differentiates. Instead of the classic lead up to a love confession, Hanasaku Iroha hits you with one in the first episode, letting the viewer see the aftermath rather than the rising action. When Ohana leaves Koichi without an answer, she changes the fish out of water scenario that would be the first act.

You see, the story is that Ohana has to depart from her mother ... and their home in the city to go work for her grandmother’s traditional Japanese inn out in the country. Normally this might be a chance for a fresh start, to meet new people and start a new life, and without Koichi that’s all this would’ve been. But because of her ties to him, she’s left grappling with her feelings and her regrets. Ohana hadn’t completely abandoned Koichi, but she did leave both of them in an incredibly confusing place. She still has his number so they eventually text each other again, yet they’re not quite sure where they stand.

It’s this relationship with Koichi that ultimately shows her growth as a person. Ohana doesn’t necessarily grow from her connection with him too much, but what they have is a clear effect of what Ohana learned from her family and her work. Their relationship is able to grow because Ohana is, and her mistakes are just a marker of who she is at that point in time. An example would be when she thought she could just move on from Koichi, thinking that he would eventually get over her and move on as well. What she was neglecting was her own feelings, as well as the fact that she left him without an answer. How could Koichi move on without being properly rejected and why would Ohana want to live with that regret when not trying seems so opposite to the nature she had working for Kissuiso?

The romantic drama between these two is only part of the overarching plot though, and it’s not part of the average day to day in which most of this series takes place. Ohana needs to first learn the way the Kissuiso inn operates and what her place in that operation is. The grand rule of the inn is to always serve their customers with the highest degree of dedication and effort, and so as a maid, Ohana has to cater to every need, even for the more eccentric guests. Through her hard work, she starts to feel a connection to this inn and a thriving motivation to withhold its standards, so much so that she’s willing to do crazy things like crash a wedding or listen to a certain guest’s drafts of their erotic novels.

Mostly, Ohana grows through her bonds with her coworkers, friends, and family in and around the Kissuiso. They teach her and of course she teaches them. Sui (madam manager) teaches her how to have passion in your career and the importance of putting the customer above all else. Enishi, her uncle and heir of Kissuiso, is a classic example of willpower, never giving up despite his near constant failures. Nako is an embodiment of exceptionalism, being great at her job while dealing with the shortcomings of her shy personality. Minko shows how (or how not) to handle frustration. And every other main character demonstrates an important life lesson as well.

What’s really interesting is seeing how Ohana changes their lives, mainly with her positive attitude and ability to sort of save the day with her brash and short sighted actions. Whether it’s crashing weddings to find the cook that Kissuiso is in desperate need of, or fighting clearly biased review scores of their inn, Ohana is always ready to take things a step too far for the things she cares about.

And somewhere down the line, that thing is the Kissuiso. Maybe she threw herself into her work because of the drama with Koichi, maybe she just found out she had a natural gift with inn labor. Point is, Ohana began to love this place she worked at, and so at around the half way mark this show became less about adapting to a new environment and more about finding your place in the world/loving where you’re at right now. Ohana comes face to face with the reality that she isn’t a person with some sort of grand dream, a goal that she decided. So instead of having her own dream, she followed someone else’s and made it her own.

This where she, and really everyone around here, starts to really change as a character. She isn’t really about big melodramatic attempts to save the day by the second half of the series, and this is due to a number a reasons; one being a certain shift in her relationship with Koichi, another just being that she learns from her mistakes and sees that when she sets out to do something it never really ends the way she wants it to.

But the other characters are the ones that truly shine in the second act, with almost all of them getting their own arc. Change is blatantly evident in characters like the madam manager, who was first introduced as a strict and violent innkeeper to a woman more willing to take risks and open up. Others like Nako come to grips with who they are, and while they don’t change as much as characters like Sui, they do become conscious of who they are as people. Ultimately, the arrival of Ohana is a learning experience for everyone involved.

Moving on from the heavy details, I’d like to talk a bit about the comedy of Hanasaku Iroha. At times, I’d find myself laughing quite hysterically at the sheer excellence of a well-timed joke. Other times I’d find myself shaking my head in disapproval. No, Hanasaku Iroha is not a perfect show by any stretch, and one of the reasons for that would be the hit-and-miss variety of gags it tends to dish out. Mainly, the show occasionally makes itself appear too hokey with off-tone antics that only end up feeling weird and cartoonish. At times, the show literally uses a slide whistle. It comes out of nowhere and has virtually no setup, but for some reason a poorly cobbled joke shows up and wastes about a minute or less screen time. These gags aren’t hard to shrug off, mind you, but it’s strange and unnecessary.

All in all, Hanasaku Iroha is an incredibly fun and heartwarming show. Ohana, alongside her friends/fellow employees work hard and wrestle with things like love and loss in their pursuit to understand where they truly belong. While a little forced at times, the humor of this is usually impeccable and (like real life) is much needed to get through hard times.

And the OPs and EDs are amazing.

All Bite, No Bark? - A Bungo Stray Dogs Review

Bungo Stray Dogs is about a detective agency made up of “gifted” and eccentric individuals. Most members of the Agency wield their own unique, supernatural ability, and together they make a mighty force to combat the mafia. Also, only one of them is an actual detective.

Now that I’ve filled you in on the basic plot of the show, let’s get right to the heart of the matter. Bungo Stray Dogs is, at times, a mess. Through a series of awful setups that only lead to decent and sometimes good payoffs, Bungo Stray Dogs shows its ... inability to make a plausible plot with understandable or compelling villains. Its tone is completely unbalanced, the motivations of its protagonists are often over-explained while still remaining nonsensical, and to top it off, its main character is a total Mary Sue. Whatever there is to like about this show melts away by the time the season reaches its halfway point, and only somewhat returns to form for its finale.

The plotting of individual arcs in this show have been utterly atrocious. While the payoffs are enjoyable, consisting of clever twists and decent one-liners, the setups for these aforementioned payoffs range from pathetic to completely ludicrous. A fine example would be from an early episode, when a client leads some of the Agency into an alleyway. That’s it. They followed a woman into an alleyway and it turned out to be a trap. Not even like a pitfall trap or something. She just pulls out a submachine gun and starts blasting away. And it doesn’t really get better than that.

Tonally, Bungo Stray Dogs seemed to have its footing for a brief second before slipping on a banana peel and falling off a cliff. The wit and comedic timing seen in the first few episode completely evaporates and leaves us with silly chibi faces for no good reason at times not fit for any comedic relief. It’s almost as if the show is desperately trying to make sure it’s not taking itself too seriously, and by doing so only makes it harder for me to enjoy watching. There is a time for humor and there is a time for being toned down and real, and Bungo Stray Dogs has a hard time differentiating between the two.

Villains can be likeable. I’d argue that on some level, they should be likeable/relatable. Without that, we just have an object that only exists to be detested. In Bungo Stray Dogs, that object is Port Mafia. A heinous and ostentatious group of delinquents with quite a heavy reliance on brute force and explosives. Their main goal is to capture the Blue Tiger for reasons completely undenounced to the audience. Other than that, they just do evil things on a daily basis for no apparent reason. They’re as one-dimensional as it gets, and the good guys aren’t much better.

What is the Agency? What do they stand for? How do they and Port Mafia both exist without one destroying the other? All of these questions and more aren’t answered very well, if at all. Their motivation should be simple: To protect and serve. You know, just like the normal law enforcement. Instead they find themselves looking for motivation on trivial things such as: Why should they rescue their kidnapped teammate, and so on. Every moment spent in their office feels like a waste of time, something to fill up the episode’s timeslot before they get to the actual point. Every character in the Agency seems to have a lackadaisical approach when it comes to their job, as if the greater good isn’t enough to motivate them. In this regard, they’re actually somewhat more unlikeable than the villains.

Onto the main character, Atsushi is an orphan. You would know that by watching any single episode in the entire series. It’s apparently integral to his very being, something not to be overlooked, and so there’s a flashback of Atsushi in an orphanage that reoccurs throughout the whole season. It never changes or adds anything new to his character aside from the very first time it is shown. He is an orphan, he has been told he is a waste of space, and he kind of believes it himself. I guess it could be argued that it is an important part of his character, but even so it’s not nearly important enough to bear such incessant repeating. Oh, and as I said early, Atsushi is a Mary Sue. Somewhere along the lines he masters his uncontrollable powers. There’s no episode to explain this, nor is there even a quick training montage. Atsushi goes from having absolutely no control to holding his own in a 1v1 with the most dangerous villain introduced so far.

The Good

At its best, Bungo Stray Dogs is a fun action series that had a strong start and seemingly interesting characters. It managed to pull off some nicely timed twists and one-liners, despite the basic setups that hold it back in the long run. The characters also have some neat historical context for fans of Japanese literature.

The Bad

At its worst, Bungo Stray Dogs is a poorly cobbled together setup for its second season, of which I am not excited for. The cast seems interesting and enjoyable when first introduced, but that fades away with every second spent with them. The villains are un-relatable garbage people with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, and the heroes are not much better. The amount of time wasted on the protagonists acting silly and squabbling in their generic office setting would have been better spent filling in the plot holes and leaps in logic that are all too abundant in this series.

Sounds Good To Me – A Sound! Euphonium Review

Sound! Euphonium is utterly fantastic. In a glance, it may look like just an anime that caters to band geeks (I know it did for me, shame on me I’m awful), but it’s actually an astonishing amount more. From characters to visuals to musical direction, I can’t seem to find a single aspect that this show doesn’t nail. A funny, charming, heartwarming, inspirational, down-to-earth show, Sound! Euphonium delivers in a variety of ways, all while giving a subtle, delicately framed view of the human condition.

What it means to be special, what it’s like to just fit ... in, and what it takes succeed as a group and as an individual; Sound! Euphonium has a firm grasp on its themes and loves to smack you in the face with them from the very beginning. The moment the instructor first walked in, he put it up to a vote as to what their goal as a band would be: To make it to Nationals or to just have fun. This of course is a trap, because no one wants to feel left out. The ideal thing to do here is to want to succeed, as defined by the society we live in.

Now that they’re tricked into aiming for the top, the class must learn what it takes to reach Nationals. Time, effort, and the determination to commit both of those two things. Most of the class finds the will to push forward in a sense of not wanting to let each other down. And that sense is acutely taken away when auditions are introduced. This is where those who don’t want to fail are separated from those who want to succeed. This is where our characters must find their own reason for progressing. Being around others makes you want to improve, to keep up with those around you and not be left behind. Because when you’re alone, the feeling of content will stand in your way. And competition only adds to this divide as the mentality changes from keeping up with each other to surpassing each other, leaving those who feel inadequate in the dust.

With only a few major plot points, the characters of Sound! Euphonium are what really move the story forward. A festival, an audition and an end goal are the only significant points in the story that come to mind. The festival shakes up the relationships in a much more meaningful way than expected, having the Hazuki-Shuuichi romance as a playful misdirect and setup for Kumiko and Reina’s moment on the mountain. It’s here that we get a much more insightful look into who Reina is as a person. The audition is a place for Reina and Kumiko (and everyone else but mainly these two) to prove themselves, and complications arise that manage to bring Reina and Kumiko even closer together. The “complications” are brought up by students, further illustrating their control over the story and where it leads them.

The charming playfulness of the characters shines incredibly bright, and I suspect you could tell even if there was no dialogue whatsoever. Every little movement depicts some sort of emotional response or state, be it the way Hazuki’s eyes widen in her awe of playing music in a group for the very first time, or how Kumiko always wears her discomfort on her sleeve. All their actions tend to be cute in some way, but the show never overreaches in an attempt to be “moe”. Even the running animations add to their sense of character, and every character seems to run in their own specific way. The attention to detail in Sound! Euphonium is outstanding. Be it the shine of the instruments or just hair blowing in the wind, sweat dripping down a characters neck or faces turning red after long sessions of continuous blowing, and the accurate finger placement pushed in sync with the music. Sound! Euphonium is an absolute joy to behold from just a visual standpoint. And the backgrounds are very pretty as well.

Now let’s talk about my two favorite characters, the first being Reina Kousaka. She’s a cool and stoic individual who’s incredibly smart and skilled, and just all-around a person to strive to be more like. “I don’t try to get close to people who don’t interest me.” Kousaka doesn’t waste her time with formalities and appearances like most other students. She knows that “being relieved to know you’re the same as someone else is stupid” and so she strives to be someone different. What makes her special is the fact that she wants to be special. She doesn’t pretend to be perfect because she’s actually trying to become it, and it’s this determination that puts her above everyone else. Reina acts somewhat cold around others because they mostly don’t interest her, and she wouldn’t want to waste her time on them. Luckily, she has Kumiko Oumae, who was once the epitome of going along with the flow. Kumiko is the one person Reina can be herself around, and because of that we’re allowed to see this other side of her, a side that speaks about some serious issues within our society and then laughs it off mere seconds later to the absurdity of someone actually saying that out loud. Even when it comes to confrontation, Reina manages to keep her cool, but rather than bottling up rage, she just saves it for later, yelling to herself or to her confidant, Kumiko, in a cute an endearing way. It’s this side of her that makes her real, and truly likable as a character.

Asuka Tanaka, while still being likable, is sort of the opposite of Reina, being warm and approachable on the outside, cold and spiteful on the inside (I assume). She’s absolutely hilarious when we first meet her, and a little less so nearing the end of the season. I like her upfront and somewhat standoffish behavior, as well as her enthusiasm and sense of humor. “I’m Tubacabra. You were born to blow me.” Her wit and confidence in delivery just blew me away. Plus, sexual innuendos are always funny. Other than her outwardly appearance however, we don’t get to see much of what Asuka is like when she’s alone. There are hints at something being hidden deep down, but I’m afraid this season we didn’t get to delve into what really makes Tanaka tick. But that’s probably just being saved for the second season, and I think like we’ve received more than enough Asuka to hold us over until then.

One last note on the music, I quite enjoyed the selection in this season. None of the musical pieces felt contrived or uninteresting, but that may have just been due to my lack of experience with the genre. In relation to another musical anime, I will say that Sound! Euphonium is a lot less about the music than Your Lie In April, which is great because it makes the show much more relatable to broader audience. Sound! Euphonium is loosely about enjoying music with your friends, and it hits on much harder themes that can resonate through many walks of life.

I loved Sound! Euphonium and can’t seem to find any reason to dislike it. In every single direction this anime is fantastic. It’s seemingly just a show about a school band trying to make it to Nationals, but it manages to do so much more with such a small premise. Sound! Euphonium avoids hackneyed themes and conclusions like “the power of teamwork”, and instead goes for something more real, subtle and thought-provoking.

And that’s pretty cool.

Myriad Problems Phantom Girls: A Myriad Colors Phantom World Review

From the beginning, Myriad Colors Phantom World presents itself to be something that’s not meant to be taken seriously. The show harbors a copious amount of overused tropes and cheeky moments of fanservice. While the fanservice often tries and succeeds in being fresh and original (like boob limbo), the tropes are only made somewhat less trope-y by a blunt act of self-awareness, an example being Haruhiko spouting exposition and Ruru acknowledging that he’s going on and on about something the characters should already know, therefore solving the problem of boring exposition by pointing out that it’s ... boring exposition, rather than just changing it to be more engaging.

The way Myriad Colors Phantom World introduces its characters is fairly simple, giving each girl an episode where they deal with some sort of Phantom that inadvertently reveals an inner struggle that is resolved happily and lightly referenced from here on out with no actual significance in the long haul. In the end all you really need to know about these characters are their quirks and powers. Other than that, they will be used in whatever way any future situations see fit.

After the group is fully formed the show becomes a Phantom of the Week wacky sitcom. This gives it an opportunity to explore a variety of themes without being confined by a cohesive narrative. This is what Phantom World excels at, as it doesn’t seem to know what it wants or where it’s going with the overarching plot. Episodes range from charming to bombastically funny to genuinely heartwarming. This all keeps to an episode structure that Phantom World can’t seem to stray away from, where every episode needs to end with an action-y climax caused by some sort of Phantom, no matter how out of place it may be.

The show goes on like this until the last two episodes, because cliffhangers are absolutely essential to creating a worthwhile finale (sarcasm). This is where the show finally falls off the tightrope it has been treading on since the very beginning, the fine line between derivative and self-aware derivative. Without spoilers, Phantom World ends in an incredibly generic, final fight way, and it’s very disappointing considering the much more enjoyable approach the show had been taking three episodes ago.

As for the characters, they’re all fairly likable with the exception of Haruhiko, our main male protagonist who is a bland, nice guy know it all that until the very end only serves as an exposition device that nobody likes. Minase is established as a group member pretty poorly, as the show acknowledges later on by Mai saying “You know, I hadn’t even noticed that you’d joined our team.” That being said, she’s a cool loner type character that is exceptionally skilled in the field of Phantom hunting, all while being socially awkward! Then there’s Izumi, who eats a lot and is cute. Oh, and Kurumi who is also cute and has a teddy bear. Finally, there’s Mai, who is a spunky athletic student with big boobs.

The Things It Does Well

Myriad Colors Phantom World knows how generic it is and openly admits it rather than trying to subvert it, which sometimes results in moments of genuine originality and humor. And despite its generic plot, the show always remains visually engaging, with excellent action sequences and stunning scenery, the clipping was done in a way that never let a still frame sit for too long. At its best, Myriad Colors Phantom World is a legitimately funny sitcom with a mostly likeable cast in a world with very little rules to abide by, creating an endless amount of possible wacky misadventures.

The Things It Doesn’t Do Well

While Phantom World does try to give attention to every trope it uses, some just come through as utterly generic and uninteresting, like in the final episode. The show doesn’t seem to know where it’s going and emotional plot points feel incredibly phoned in. It even toys with the idea of a harem, but just like many of its other tropes, the show fails to fully commit, leaving nothing but a few laughs and a feeling of wasted time. At its worst, Myriad Colors Phantom World is a generic magical action show that pretends to not be generic by showing it’s aware of how generic it is and doing it anyway.

(Note: Review is also posted on my blog, this is not plagiarized)

Bloody Brilliant – Kizumonogatari Part 1

“SHAFT is perfect and creates nothing but masterpieces. Anyone who disagrees is wrong.”

Noir

I could watch this movie without any dialogue whatsoever and still be kept thoroughly engaged from beginning to end. That’s my untested hypothesis, of course. Needless to say, Kizumonogatari is visually stunning. Gorgeous. Magnificent. Ravishing. Sensational. Out of this world. I just want to keep listing off words to describe how fucking beautiful this movie looked. As is the SHAFT guarantee, there’s never a dull moment. Whether it be the playfully unique changing of camera angles to the cuts of text, or how it manages to take ... us from location to location to location in a matter of seconds, the monogatari series has always been something that encourages keeping your eyes glued, otherwise you just might miss it.

The character art is fantastic, and even more mesmerizing in motion. What’s even more fun is how the camera moves with the character it’s following. It’s an interesting view to, walking behind Araragi. Or in front. Or to the sides. Or to any angle imaginable, which is basically what Kizumonogatari is trying to accomplish. Look good, in every possible way. And from scenery to character art to motion, it succeeds.

As for the character’s interactions, they’re absolutely wonderful...but succinct. It seems like there’s much less dialogue in this movie than in any of the other monogataris. For the first five to ten minutes (roughly) not even a single word is spoken. Now, I’m not one of those asshol- erhm, “special people” who like to criticize a movie through comparison with the novel it was based on. They’re different mediums, and it’s an adaption, so there’s no need to get our knickers in a twist. However, the book does hold quite a lot over the movie in terms of dialogue and Araragi’s inner thoughts, and it might’ve been nice for SHAFT pull more from it. Still, the movie still manages to be witty and profound without it.

Without getting too far into the issue of runtime, I will say that Kizumonogatari ends in a...strange place. A weird way to end a movie, that doesn’t really offer up much of a conclusion nor cliffhanger. Even the final line wasn’t much to go off of. It’s...a little disappointing, considering the film as a whole was bloody brilliant. But I think I’ll write about the story being cut up into three parts another time, so for now I’ll just leave you with these words: Bloody brilliant. Excessively excellent. Splendid masterpiece. Impeccable piece of art. Epitome of film. Fucking amazing.
Thanks for reading!

(note: Review also posted on my blog, was not stolen https://theregoesmykokoro.wordpress.com/2016/03/12/bloody-brilliant-kizumonogatari-part-1/ )