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My first instinct was to call Maidragon "offensively bad", but it's much more of a "mindnumbingly bad"-type of anime. There's nothing there. Watching it is no different than staring at a blank screen for twenty minutes; you get the same boring effect and feeling that you've wasted some, if not all, of your time.

Let me set aside all of my moral issues with the show, because if they haven't bugged you already, you likely don't care. I also don't wish to offend fans of the show when I say that I simply don't get it. Even after giving it a shot, I have no ... clue why this anime is so popular in both the West and Japan (though Kemono Friends beats it out in the latter area). Anyway, let's move on.

Maidragon focuses on the comedic mishaps of a group of dragon girls when they find their way to an ordinary woman's apartment. It's presented in a series of sketches which all rely on the viewer to elicit at least one of two reactions: 'this is funny' or 'this is cute'. If you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of not experiencing them, everything falls apart pretty quickly. You start finding plotholes that haven't been addressed and likely never will be: Why would an adult woman let all of these people into her house, especially so quickly, and then get a new apartment just for them? Why isn't anyone suspicious of the numerous people, some of them children, that suddenly appeared in her home? Why are the dragons magical? There's no interest in answering such questions, only finding ways to brush them off with a one-liner or some other sort of joke. Sure, you aren't supposed to pay that much attention to the details, but where is the base of the material? Why should you care, other than through two of the most basic methods of emotional manipulation? You shouldn't. It needs you to be non-inquisitive and readily consumerist to enjoy what little is laid out. It's OK if that much works for you, but it's not quite enough to satisfy me.

Another thing that's likely worth noting is the relentless amount of Shoujo-Ai in the series. There is some vaguely sexual thing between women that happens or is hinted towards at least once every five minutes. As a lesbian myself, I normally wouldn't mind, but this element feels awfully shoehorned in and designed to pander to the (predominately male) otaku audience of the show—like mass-produced lesbian pornography, its existence doesn't do much other than serving an extremely basic 'girls are hot' point of view. If I were still 12, maybe it would seem more realistic or more compatible with my point of view. To pretend that it's some sort of feminist, pro-LGBTQ statement is to ignore literally every other theme within the show itself to reinforce your own beliefs. And that's a story for another post.

That's basically the entire show. I don't think its art or music are worth mentioning (depressingly unusual for a KyoAni show), so there's no point in devoting paragraphs to what I can say nothing about. Regardless, if you're looking for something basic and cute and are less picky about what you watch, it might be for you. Want a bit more to think about or care too much about slice of life shows? Here may not be the best place to start.

MariWaka is not i.) a dark, unsettling anime produced exclusively for Fuji's infamous Noitamina block, ii.) a story about emotionally unstable teenagers, iii.) something relying on the emotional buoyancy of tragedy to keep its story afloat, and/or iv.) a work with outstanding animation, so it will ultimately be forgotten.

And that much is not fair.

It's not that any of the above traits are bad qualities for an anime to have, but MariWaka is at a disadvantage for being itself and nothing more; being an edutainment anime that is primarily geared towards children and their parents. For the same sick and twisted reason, it is also ... suitable for people who are tired of the medium; it has some tropes you'll undeniably be familiar with, but nothing worth giving up hope for.

At worst, it is an average show, and at best (its first and last episodes), it is just good—that roughly averages out to a nice, solid "decent", and so long as you're willing to accept that, I would say it's worth your time.

What's best about the show is that it uses its educational context to form a one-of-a-kind time travel narrative that would not be feasible outside of the unquestioning nature that a Saturday morning cartoon provides, relaying the story of a child travelling through history in search for her missing father. Meanwhile, a corporate mystery unfolds as a businessman attempts to track down the very same father figure, and the convergence of these two storylines happens in a very satisfying and unexpected fashion.

Once the story grabs you, it's easy to forget about the cookie-cutter nature of what characters are key to the story, but there are still a few outliers sprinkled throughout. Most of these flaws are exclusive to the children in the anime, so there's always the possibility of it being an intentional choice made to exemplify the lack of individuality of a mind that is still maturing.

Nevertheless, MariWaka is not a psychological venture, so there's no need to get into that—I would most likely recommend the series to those looking for something new and fun to watch, especially if you're able to forgive a little roughness around the edges.

Sometimes a lack of perfection is what is most perfect about a work, and if you can see the appeal in that, you have probably attained humility.

There aren't many idol anime with over a hundred episodes, and there are even fewer idol anime that have the ability to hook and surprise you for such a long period of time. Coming in at just under two hundred episodes, Aikatsu is a series that manages to do both, and there are so many ways to describe it; energetic, revitalising, and optimistic, to name a few. But the best thing about Aikatsu is that it's able to toss its target audience aside and create something able to entertain people of all ages. Unlike Hollywood family movies or shows like Friendship is Magic, there isn't ... much dumbing down or simplifying of the content within—it's effective, straightforward, and surprisingly realistic in its presentation.

So what makes it different?

The premise is straightforward: A school for female idols named Starlight Academy exists to seek out and train its kin, be it through acting, dancing, singing, or some other form of entertainment. Aside from an exceptionally kind headmistress and a few spunky teachers, there is no supervision or management to keep the girls in check; much like college, the primary reason for their attendance is so that they can discover who they are as a person (or idol) whilst remaining in an open social setting. Thanks to its believability, the concept itself provides you with many dramatic writing opportunities. Who are the students? What are their reasons for attending? Why are they all so interested in living a monolithic public life? These questions are regularly asked and answered, and their answers further the countless possibilities of the universe time after time.

To bridge the gap between idol and school life, the staff always provides students with opportunities to get their name out and/or obtain new apparel, resulting in a rush of motivation for everyone involved. Depending on their popularity, idols can even influence the work of prominent and rising fashion designers or brands at large. Once the characters' training cycle begins, the lurking element of surprise prevents you from taking your eyes off the screen. That's not to say it's all training and no action; the fun graces you one episode at a time, so the competitions, extracurricular activity, and other unspoilable events don't seem out of place for when their time comes. In other words, the occasional slices of life flow as naturally and beautifully as the show at large.

One aspect I've found to be unique to Aikatsu is its painless and beautiful sincerity; the characters have natural unbreakable bonds between one another, be they incandescent rivals or shimmering partners. It shies away from the trends of melodrama and grittiness by keeping things light and sometimes funny, completely aware of the fact that the most powerful emotional stirs are naturally-occurring. The cake is topped with a sprinkling of internal conflict, often pertaining to the difficulty of meeting one's own expectations. For a cast made up of teenage girls, they're delightfully headstrong and angst-free. That maturity spares you the clichéd nature of most conflicts within Idolm@ster and Love Live, and often gives you the opportunity to ask yourself the same questions. I truthfully believe the series is ultimately sociological, as is any great drama.

That said, the show's composition resembles western TV dramas much more than it does your typical anime; the supporting characters are constantly evolving, changing roles, and moving into the picture, whilst the main characters themselves aren't as prominent as you may believe. Such traits are definitely not suited to everyone, but for anyone searching for more complex development, they are a dream come true. The continuity put on display here is fairly amazing—things you may haven't seen for dozens of episodes can slowly begin to reappear, and they always have a graceful fall into place. It doesn't sound so surprising on paper, but the practical appropriation of older content happens when you least expect it to. You'll want to trust me on this one.

For the sake of performances, a fun little wardrobe transition to 3DCG is made whenever an idol needs to be on stage. But don't hold your breath! While the CG starts out on rocky ground, it goes out of its way to make some vast adjustments every few episodes. By the time you're a third of the way through, all of your gripes with its appearance will disappear. Still, it never stops making improvements, and things become increasingly gorgeous as you approach the final episode. The beauty of the CG is best illustrated during group performances, yet it also has some interesting tricks up its sleeve like flying objects and wireframe views that liven up the stage experience. Some incredible on-stage camerawork does a great job illustrating the benefits of using 3D animation, and definitely proves why the show chose to use the medium in the first place. I'm not quite sure if the show could have retained the same energy without it.

Finally, let's talk about the music. Some insert songs are impeccably composed and arranged, others excel in one of those two departments, and the few songs leftover are straight-up bad. From a production standpoint, it's rather hit-or-miss, but the hits have the strength to absolve it of the misses. I even find the insert songs that are only okay to be a treat every once and a while, but due to the subjectivity of music, your personal results may vary. On the other hand, the background music is so subtle and relaxed that I doubt anyone could take issue with it. Heck, sometimes they're just little piano arrangements of prominent insert songs. It's definitely more consistent overall, and kind of sounds like something you'd hear from a modern Nintendo game or device. Kind of perfect to do work to.

Point is, this review may make it sound like I think Aikatsu is exceptional and near-flawless. That's because I do. I find its weaknesses completely redeemed by the underlying strengths. I find it able to appeal to any demographic without a hitch. I find it to be of a standard that all other kids' anime should hope to achieve. If you're not sick of anime already, I would plead that you at least give it a shot. Otherwise, it's never anything remotely amazing, nor does it outright excel in any category; it was just enough to retain my interest in anime for much longer than I expected.

And so as it decides to let go, I find myself doing the same.

Love it, hate it, indifferent to it, or once-loved-then-hated-now-extremely indifferent to it, Owarimonogatari (literally 'end story', though the series doesn't conclude here) will most likely meet your expectations of the long-running light novel adaptation. For me, that means occasionally witty dialogue shoehorned with ecchi, traces of pedophilia, and genuinely interesting ideas muffled by execution. And yup, it's got all three. NisiOisiN really knows how to keep his writing consistent!

See, the joke there was that Monogatari is as inconsistent as can be, and widely varies in quality from arc to arc. Got it? No? I'll wait.

…OK? Let's move on.

While technically a four-arc series, there are ... three distinct arcs in this season's offerings: Ougi Formula, the one-hour premiere, Sodachi Riddle/Lost, and Shinobu Mail. Part of what makes this season strange to review is that each and every one can be summarized with a single sentence, but I am generous enough to provide you with multiple sentences. I will do my best to go over them all without spoiling anything, because Monogatari is serious business.

Ougi Formula is the series' standard fare. Not only is it a locked room mystery, it's forty-some minutes of dialogue that's not exactly justified by its contents. Were there no philosophical questions and characteristically abstract classrooms, it could be concluded in ten minutes, or even a heavy twenty. Instead, you will spend roughly five percent of your day watching Ougi and Araragi solve a seemingly unimportant puzzle. You almost reach a point where you think all this time spent will be inconsequential, yet that is saved by a graceful transition into the second arc.

Thus ensues Sodachi Lost and its conjoined twin, Sodachi Riddle, which go above and beyond the series' standard fare. It's maybe the most straightforward, mature story the Monogatari series has given us, which concerns a classmate's displacement and the unknown circumstances of her family. Marina Inoue's fantastic (or shall I say phantasmic) portrayal of Oikura may send a chill or two down your spine, and there's no lack of interrogation or detective work on Araragi's part. Unlike the previous arc, there is a feeling of consequence to every word muttered or yelled, which helps portray the shattered mental state of Oikura rather sympathetically. It's an approach most artists wouldn't dare to take, so I wholeheartedly appreciate the effort and delicacy put into handling it. There are still the rough points along the way, like a few boob jokes and some off-topic discussion, yet they're minor enough to be promptly excusable. The whole thing is best summed up by the words of the show's official subtitles (which are garbage that you shouldn't use): "I'm terribly sorry. I had underestimated you, to be honest."

To round it all out, Shinobu Mail is well below the series' standard fare. After how much I was impressed by the Sodachi stories, I was hoping for the best. All of that hope left my body after watching the first episode of Shinobu Mail. There are some parallels to be drawn to your typical superhero movies—there's a big bad which everyone works together to defeat, yet nobody thinks they'll be able to. It wouldn't be such a major issue if any of the major action was shown, WHICH IT IS NOT. NOTHING IS SACRED. We instead follow Araragi and a piggybacking Kanbaru, who continues her trend of making annoying sexual jokes and innuendos toward him wherever possible. It's like being alone in a room with a 12-year-old, which is something that Araragi would probably like. Later on is a twenty-minute infodump which concludes with Kanbaru and Shinobu sharing an unnecessary and crude sexual pose, a cake that is topped by the most anticlimactic of endings. I don't want to ruin that, but it's definitely an open-ended conclusion you've seen before.

I'm not going to say much about the directing, other than that I think it uses artistic value as a crutch. There is no attempt made to portray things as-is, so everything is abstract. Maybe the director and I just value different things.

Unless you're telling an overarching story, variety is the spice of life. Then it gets questionable. Unlike other shows in the same supernatural episodic vein (Mushishi, Cardcaptor Sakura), there's no consistent tone or guideline for the Monogatari series' plot. It's a bit all over the place. Maybe you, unlike me, are a fan of these random variables, and therefore may like Owarimonogatari a lot more than I did. If you do like this more than I did, good job. If you dislike this more than I did, good job. Having an opinion is the first step, and you are fantastic for that. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.

Unless you're using the official subtitles. Then you're wrong.

Most of the humour and appeal of Himouto! Umaru-chan comes from the protagonist being strikingly similar to its target audience; a lazy, entitled otaku teenager who always gets what they want. You're meant to identify with this cola-obsessed girl to the point of empathizing with her every move, and that obviously worked. Within days of the first episode airing, the show became a meme. It was (and at the time of writing, still is) hard to enter an anime discussion without catching a stray gif or picture showing Umaru in her chibi form, because people loved that they saw themselves or their behaviour in this ... cute little character. A month later, the show's viewer base had unexpectedly doubled.

This isn't the first time this model has succeeded. In 2013, both Oregairu and WataMote garnished immense popularity by using a character the audience could relate to, through teen angst and depression respectively. And as much as I'd like to lump Himouto! Umaru-chan in with those two, it feels different. It's not some one-off attempt at being relatable, but a series that wants to tell a story through the eyes of its audience. And I completely hated it until I came to that strange realization.

While beautiful and endearingly polite on the outside, the titular Umaru turns to a horrible blob of laziness as soon as she arrives home. She lives with her older brother, Taihei, who thankfully brings no themes of incest to the table. As Taihei's a strict and punctual businessman, the two don't exactly get along. All that happens between the two from there on does nothing but highlight Umaru's much-needed flaws (bad behaviour ahoy), but also makes you feel pretty sorry for her older brother. His patiently putting up with her and loving her regardless is what ends up turning the theme on its head—it's a critique of the consumer as much as it is a critique of Umaru, even though the characters are too one-note to allow it to work. With all of this trickery going on, the entire premise is much more suited to a drama than the mangaka may realize. Since a better option is available, it becomes pretty disappointing to see the conventional slice of life comedy route being taken every step of the way.

Aside from the aforementioned two, the entire cast is fairly unremarkable. You've got your shy oppai twintail girl, the energetic rival, and the mysterious tsundere who has a crush on Umaru. Taihei also has two coworkers, who unknowingly happen to be related to two of Umaru's friends (sigh). Moreover, we don't get to know very much about these characters beyond their basic stereotypes. Everyone's certainly able to provide a few laughs along the way, though it always seems like a distraction from the real matter of familial tension. The team behind the anime seems to have a quota to fill for uninteresting or typical scenes, so you never get more than a five-minute glimpse at the better material. It's a sadistic game, and the way it's dragged out is extremely frustrating. In the last episode, about four of five prior misunderstandings or lies are perpetuated. Not only does this keep the plot from progressing, but the frustration is furthered when the final scene alludes to the lack of development in Umaru. As I've said before, joking about such a serious problem instead of combatting it is a dire mistake.

Complaints about the literary portion aside, it's probably the best-looking show of the Summer 2015 season. Dogakobo is clearly proud to prove that you don't need detailed cuts or any exotic art direction to make something look great, only nice colours and consistently smooth animation. If one thing were to set the mismatched anime aside from its competition, this would be it. Have you not already seen it, I'd advise you to look up the OP for the show. Aside from the catchy nature of the song itself, it's a fantastic showcase of what I'm talking about.

So even though I wouldn't recommend the anime, you can't exactly go wrong with it. It's inconsistent in a lot of places and somewhat hard to actually wrap your head around, but you'll be sure to get a few giggles and a grand treat for the eye. Lest I forget, Sylphynford is a total cutie. If you end up having a little more fun with it than I did, you have my envy.

Hyakunin Isshu (literally 'hundred people, one poem') is a Japanese card game typically played with a collection of two hundred cards. Each poem in this collection is by a different poet, and split into two halves: the first half for reading, the second for grabbing. In a match, the reading halves are then called out, and pairs of players must race to grabbing the corresponding second half of the poem. Chihayafuru excels by making this game of stratagem into something too human to ignore. It has no regard for how silly or strange a passion for the game may be, because the only thing it's ... concerned about is engrossing you as if you were a part of the deck itself.

Whereas the first season primarily concerns the importance of friendship, the second is purely about self-improvement. A recurring theme is now the conflict between working for yourself versus working for others, and that is carried by the overarching nature of the storyline. It's nothing extravagant, but gives a new side of maturity to a cast that was originally unrealistic or, in some cases, delusional. More notably, it makes it seem as if the characters are actually learning from the mistakes they commit—not only in karuta, but in life. Arata also has to make some tough choices between his reputation and friendship with Chihaya, all thanks to the perpetually active nature of the game. His motivation through loneliness goes directly against Chihaya's love for teamwork, but the schism continues to drive them forward. Always nice, huh?

Still, there is an unshakable feeling that this package wouldn't hold up on its own, or that the handling is the only thing keeping the show afloat. Don't get me wrong: it's pretty decent, but I firmly believe that this series only works as television. The suspense from episode to episode would be completely nullified in the continuous nature of a movie or manga volume, or even the pages of a book. It is dancing on a sheet of thin ice that it never manages to break through, where a breakthrough would be more than welcomed. That aside, the experience you'll get here is fairly lovely.

That's mostly thanks to presentation. As always, this show can stretch out mere in-universe minutes over an hour without becoming boring or too slow, more so now than ever. The art remains crisp and pastel, animation is consistently steady, and Madhouse never slips up. Music is seen as a way to add suspense or atmosphere and not much else, but it's a perfect way of handling things in a game where sound can be key. Some of the poetry readers sound better than ever, so I even have to ask myself if they hired actual professionals to do it. Either way, it should be enough to keep you happy.

Basically, the second season of Chihayafuru shows notable improvement over the first while offering a promising future for the franchise. It continues to take its time with story and characters, but given the manga's sales, I wouldn't be surprised if a third anime season was soon announced. Oh, and you might wanna prepare to binge watch it.

There's a lot of innocence that comes with the experience of a first love, especially that which is between teenagers. Despite knowing next to nothing about the world, you're often head over heels for one another, bouncing around any idealistic hopes or plans for the future in the process. It's both adorable and sickening, and for its first few episodes, Ore Monogatari does a great job capturing that confusing mix of feelings. Then it tries to be a little bit more than that.

The most common praise of the show seems to be that isn't your typical shoujo, but I disagree—it kicks off as the ... protagonist, Takeo, saves a certain Yamato from being groped on the train, and then begins to follow his relationship with her. It's the modern equivalent of a prince on a white horse saving a helpless girl from a bunch of baddies, except the prince is over six feet tall and not conventionally attractive. Rounding out the two is Sunakawa, a childhood friend who reluctantly takes on the bishounen role. You can practically see the jokes coming, but that's alright; the trio has such nice chemistry together that it's easy to forget how horribly cliché it is, and amidst the initial focus on heartwarming cuteness, it manages to paint each and every frame with an endearing stroke.

The best option would have been to continue down that humble path, as when it comes to reoccurring drama, thin characters don't hold up. And then it starts introducing even more to fill out its subplots. Need to shift the story to jealousy? Don't worry, add a new character! No way out of the situation you're in? Oh, feel free to throw a relevant one in! Attempts are thankfully made to flesh these side characters out, but after happening a few times in a row, it gets tiring. The show is not concerned about Takeo and Yamato's relationship, but only the events that happen during it. There's even a few jokes about the lack of any relationship progression, but knowing the mangaka is aware of that vital flaw is far more frustrating than funny.

The result of this mess is that you're left with more questions each episode. Will Takeo and Yamato ever advance beyond the stage of handholding and throwing around "I love you" like it's going out of style? How are the two managing to stick together in their current state? Who is Sunakawa as a character, and why do we know next to nothing about him? I'd hope at least one of these is answered by the end of its run, but it's hard to have expectations of something so stubborn. I have to wonder if it was written with romance in mind, since it works even better as a mystery.

Combined with an ever-declining animation quality and audio so unobtrusive it seems silent, Ore Monogatari is more of a weekly chore than it is entertainment. You wouldn't be wrong to call it "Nisekoi without the harem" (probably why the crossover manga between the two exists), which basically alludes to "nothing". It's surprisingly hard to criticize for paragraph upon paragraph without venturing into simple complaints, since the lack of progression doesn't give much material to write about. So while the anime does showcase the directorial prowess of Morio Asaka, visual gags and all, it isn't enough to save the aimless property from the clutches of mediocrity.

You're much better off watching Chihayafuru, which displays the talent of roughly the same staff far more accurately.

Between the blood-soaked walls and barren deserts of Ima, Soku no Iro Boku, it's easy to lose sight of any sensitivity that lies beyond its limitless cruelty. Some may find that there's far more mercy to be found here than it lets on—be it through its vocal political message or themes of friendship, every instance of violence contributes to the narrative enough to be considered far from senselessly grim.

Most interestingly, a great deal of this could be attributed to its setting of Hellywood, a water-fuelled airship towering over a dried out Earth. The protagonist, Shu, is dragged into this time by a girl with the ... ability to manipulate water, and they find themselves at the feet of a warlord willing to do anything to harness the girl's power. The great thing about this is that the show isn't afraid to display the harsh reality of such a hopeless situation; every characters' sense of helplessness or despair is scarily realistic, all the while the story prods onwards into the fearful daily lives of those involved.

Yet to say the show doesn't know its limits would be a bit of a discredit. There are glimmers of hope along the way as Shu rises to confront those around him about the atrocities they commit, and the show is always more about saving others from themselves than it is freeing them from tyranny. Such actions directly contrast the insane mentality of the antagonist, who will not hesitate to break his possessions, torture, or even kill whenever he doesn't get his way. Flip-flopping between these extremes would normally prove tiring or difficult, but thanks to the mentally unstable air of it all, it's awfully encouraging. Here you will find no battles of wits, no intricate planning, and no apparent reason—everything that happens is beautifully spontaneous, and will probably make you root for the protagonist along the way.

One of the show's few flaws and sadly one of its biggest is its otherwise unexplored characters; you never really get to see who any of them are outside of the storyline, and we only spends around ten minutes around the protagonist before it kicks off. One thing that's also never explained is who most of the staff and personnel of Hellywood are, so it often seems like the entire ship is being run by only two people. It doesn't hamper enjoyment of the show in any way, but it's an awfully empty component for such a full package.

It's truly another world, I must add. Even as you follow the adventure through deserts and settlements, none of it begins to feel remotely Earth-like or even human. It could be due to the scarcity of water or the related Sun's red dwarf state, but it is more easily attributed to the incredible detail of the backgrounds and animation. If you were to say it's visually reminiscent of a more voluptuous or habitual Akira, I wouldn't hesitate to agree.

Sound is likely the only department I can't get too thrilled about, since there's nothing quite outstanding to be found here. If anything, you'll only have your immersion broken by the occasional stock sounds, and the breakbeat-inspired music's lack of individuality means it doesn't fare much better. None of it offends or excels, it just does an alright job being what it is and nothing more.

For those still interested, I do recommend or encourage you to watch this. You probably won't find it to be the best thing ever, but it's one of the few anime out there that's pretty one-of-a-kind.

Well, unless you watched Kaiba. But if you liked Kaiba, I have good news!

Kyoto Animation's success with K-On gave a new face to the genre of music anime—a face that focused on the activities of cute girls in a group, and to a lesser extent, their relationships. Hibike Euphonium is more or less the same formula, but on a much larger scale; a school band of boys and girls alike. Said school band is aiming for a mere shot at the nationals with the help of an instructor much stricter than they'd prefer. It's by no means an original concept, but it would be acceptable if it showcased the trials a band faces in an admirable fashion; instead, ... Hibike is more concerned about weak shoujo ai coupled with the insecurities of its characters.

Kumiko and her friends are the main source of those insecurities, and they're not much more than what you'd expect from a teenage group of anime characters: naïve, overstating, and worried about love. Little can be said about unique characteristics or personalities, since aside from a few cute quirks (like a character naming her tuba 'Tubacabra'), there are next to none. To balance this weakness out, the show introduces the collected and beautiful bandmate Reina, whose mutual admiration with Kumiko tends to go a little overboard. There's a load of flirting between the two without any romantic development, which leads me to believe the relationship is only there to give a reason to the protagonist's unnatural success; the two are driven by a non-existent love for each other, and it is not convincing in the slightest.

That wasted screentime could have been better used on the development of the school band, who the viewer only gets to know about a quarter of. Because of that lack of focus, there is no unifying element of teamwork to the storyline—you are merely watching a few people surrounded by background characters whenever they play. Their instructor, Taki, is often pointing out musical flaws or weaknesses in certain sections of the band, but the lack of familiarity with the members makes their struggle to improve near meaningless. Unless you're driven by any personal nostalgia, it is seemingly impossible to empathize with anyone. It really makes the end goal to reach the nationals both predictable and uninteresting, as well as boring to watch.

The animation of Hibike Euphonium is great. Crisp, fluid, and full of detail, it's something that can only be expected of the notorious studio behind it. The art itself isn't as impressive, but acceptable; everything looks as if it's been bathed in layers upon layers of oil, even excessive by the standards of teenage hygiene. Regardless, watching each instrument as it's being played is always a real treat.

Hearing them is pretty nice, too. It's likely the only real indicator of progress in the series, as they go from sounding like your average school band to something deserving of recognition pretty quickly. In fact, it's a little too abrupt of an improvement. Later performances begin to sound too professional for their age level, and as beautiful as it is, it's immersion-breaking. For better or for worse, you can tell that the soundtrack was performed by a group that makes its anime counterpart pale in comparison.

Clumsiness aside, Hibike manages to fit into the formula its predecessors put in place, albeit quite half-heartedly. The fundamentals are all there, but the soul is missing. It's drab, often slow, and questionable in focus, but it is what it is. If you're looking for something light and simplistic, go nuts. Just don't expect much in the drama department, OK?

This is a story of amends and of redemption. It is a tribute to the age-old aphorism, "Maturity comes with experience, not age." But most importantly, Asatte no Houkou shows that you can craft an alright drama with any trope, even the most tired or comedic.

Such are the main merits of an anime with a ridiculous premise. In this case, our protagonist, Karada, is a 12 year old girl who is insecure about her young age. Tiny and always feeling left out, she makes a wish in frustration to a local altar—a wish to become an adult. To her dismay, this rash wish is ... mysteriously granted, swapping Karada's age with that of her older brother's ex-girlfriend, Shouko, and vice versa. The problem? Karada and Shouko loathe each other, yet they're left to work together in secrecy. Or so it goes for a little while.

Here is where execution saves the day. The story, not once played for laughs or thrills, takes itself completely seriously. Unlike a lot of similar dramas, this focuses on how the supernatural element affects every character's life in one way or another, no matter how minor. It follows the reparation and strengthening of these interpersonal relationships throughout this group of friends, and in that sense, its small scale is a double-edged sword. It provides enough for character development, but limits the scope of a potentially vast story. This all roughly balances out in the end, but it's still very disappointing to think of what it could have been.

Meanwhile, Karada has to focus on what being an adult really entails, whether it's through buying new clothes or finding a job, and Shouko needs to outgrow her apathetic tendencies. The scenes detailing these conflicts are some of the best the storyline has to offer, giving a great insight into what each character is struggling with the most. There is a strange sense of terror that comes with either of the two being put in danger, and that privilege isn't abused; since it's only invoked a couple of times, it manages to stay fresh and intimidating without becoming contrived, although Karada's thou-must-cry backstory cuts it close.

Audiovisually, it's as conflicted as the story. While the art is soft and somewhat refreshing, it's awfully plain (albeit acceptable) overall. The animation itself is a little more mediocre, with mouths refusing to move in some scenes, and shading done almost haphazardly. Thankfully, it's all redeemed by some of the best audial presentation I've experienced in the medium. Aside from dialogue cutting through, it is almost like an ambient soundscape at times. There are layers upon layers of unobtrusive sound effects, accompanied by the occasional acoustic music when necessary. Never too much or annoying, it balances this harmony of atmosphere and song flawlessly, and definitely knows when to be quiet. My only gripe was that I could fall asleep to it.

Even though Asatte no Houkou is by no means the greatest anime you'll ever see, it is definitely a one-of-a-kind experience. Or an inconsistent treat, if that's more up your alley. Memorable for the fact that none of it takes place in a school or on a battleground, but memorable nonetheless. It's cute at its worst and compelling at its best, so what's there to lose—a few years?