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Feb 10, 2024
After a consistently hilarious, if occasionally melodramatic, first season, Clannad's continuation reaches heights of unforeseen complexity and maturity while weaving thematic signifiers that remain consistent with the radically altered arc of the series. Oddly, the opening few episodes of this season are a low point for Clannad. Although the antics remain amusing, and the characters likable, the sheer goofiness of Tomoya fistfighting a gang member for like ten minutes, or when he pretends to groom (????!!!) his best friend's middle school sister so he can strengthen her relationship with her brother make for a bizarre intro to what develops into a mature, introspective, and deeply
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moving drama. As Tomoya's high school career ends, his core friendships dissolve and he enters a life of workaday mundanity - brief moments like his collapse onto the floor after a tough first day on the job, or him running to work panting when he gets even the mildest concerned phone call from his manager, capture the high-anxiety and sacrifice inherent in paving even the most ordinary, least sensational path in life. No matter how unique and flavorful and animated his high school years were, Tomoya's choices to become a husband, a worker, and eventually a father require a dedication and will far outshining what was requried of him in his teen years.
Maybe the most impressive angle the show gets right is how to handle Tomoya’s relationship with his daughter, Ushio. Ushio could have easily been a pandering, gushing portrayal of a child, but the show gives her time to be a little frustrating and enigmatic. Tomoya’s Journey from deadpan, unenthused pseudo-parent into sincere warmth and commitment isn’t anything we haven’t seen before, but after watching at such a gradual pace his own resentments and piling depression, the impact of this change is given the space it needs to be fully satisfying and believable. When it finally sinks in that the protection and care of Ushio must be the new focal point of his life, Tomoya’s dysfunctional relationship with the past - while far from totally healed - buds into a deeper acceptance, and with this acceptance Tomoya is able to pass down to Ushio that iconic song: Dango, Dango, Dango… What was once a humorous signifier for Nagisa’s childish personality has become a marker for transition and tradition: a relic from a missing person’s memory passed down to her child.
Just when things are getting unbearably emotional, fan-favorite Fukko is finally reintegrated into the series, now awake from her coma and continuing to wreak havoc with her adorably deranged personality. It’s refreshing to spend time with her again, but also a reminder for Tomoya that any women he meets in his current life just… will not and cannot satisfy him the way Nagisa did.
An unfortunate flaw of this season was the lack of Kotomi. While she is given the chance to deliver some thematically resonant ho-tep wisdom about the existential mysteries of the universe, she remains absent (along with the majority of the original Clannad clan) for roughly 100% of the season. While I understand the thematic and situational utility of having these characters disappear, it would have been beyond fitting if, say, following the heartbreaking sequence in which Ushio dies in Tomoya’s arms, that the episode cut to Kotomi performing an iconic free jazz violin solo, showing off her toes, or pulling one of her classic pranks. A missed and golden opportunity if you ask a Kotomi kin like myself!
Eventually, the show spirals into high tragedy and heartbreak and the passing years leap far out of our grasp, and yet the spiritual world - a zone of shifting identities, rebirth, and mystery - never leases its grip on the show. no matter how distant the slapstick fantasies of the first season seem in the face of After Story's unexpected realism, it's this spiritual world that offers a helping hand of uplift. Despite how taxing and harsh the basic realities of adult life are and will always be, it's within the spiritual life of the city Tomoya resents so much that he's given a second chance. The final image of After Story appears after a jarring yet fitting outburst of timeline-shifting mystery; Fuko spots sleeping Ushio under a park tree: a sharply simplistic image of innocence and rebirth. In the context such a fiercely tragic season, this final frame glimmers with reassurance… Many reviewers refer to this as one of the most depressing shows you’ll ever watch, and while it’s not hard to see why, these last gasps of warmth are generously sweet and contribute in a major way to the show’s staying power.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Jan 28, 2024
i jumped into this show at season 3 and got the gist immediately: it's about the humiliating and demoralizing cycle of relationships and the failure to communicate between men and women. the lead character allows his obsessive, unrequited crush to degenerate him into true sociopathy, exploiting a rental girlfriend's family trauma so he can force himself into her most private, vulnerable moments. his sexual pathology - which drives this concurrent deification and objectification of his crush - is sketched out through racing, overanalytic thoughts ruminating over her every move, her every word. this brilliantly exposes the tragic and dangerous trajectory of unchecked, obsessive psuedo-love.
as a
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show, the experience can be mixed. sometimes it gets boring and you forget the main guy can be a full blown sociopath. sometimes the show devolves into sentimental speeches that make it difficult to discern how self aware exactly its creators are. the quirky supporting cast of "cute girls" come across as totems of fan service rather than actual characters and, while funny, the dialogue can be atrocious and corny, although this is likely a side effect of my needing the dialogue translated (i am not a speaker of the japanese language).
the show is at its strongest when it indulges in excruciating cringe comedy.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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Nov 7, 2018
SPOILERS!:
The End of Evangelion
“I tried to include everything of myself in Neon Genesis Evangelion. Myself, a broken man who could do nothing for four years...It is a production where my only thought was to burn my feelings into film.” - Hideaki Anno
About a year after the controversial finale of the iconic anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion, creator Hideaki Anno theatrically released an alternate ending of sorts, creating what is arguably a cinematic masterpiece. The End of Evangelion is split into two distinct halves, the first being mostly straightforward, the second delving into extremely experimental and ambitious territory. The final forty minutes of the film form
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a surreal trip that is densely populated with abstract imagery, philosophical musing, and unexpected metafiction. Through seemingly boundless experimentation, Anno is able to expand upon many of the show’s darkest themes and makes what I believe to be one of the most insightful and accurate psychological dramas in film history. End of Evangelion is an incredible and important film for both its subversive and avant-garde content and its uniquely presented exploration of such themes as loneliness, sexuality, and depression.
Before diving too deep into The End of Evangelion’s content, it is important that I introduce the general storyline of the series and the film. Neon Genesis Evangelion takes place in a futuristic and chaotic version of the year 2015 in which Earth is under threat of monsters known as Angels. An organization named NERV is attempting to combat the Angels using giant mechas known as Evangelions, which are piloted by specially selected adolescents who each are psychologically explored and deconstructed as the series goes on. The main protagonist is the fragile and emotional Shinji Ikari whose father Gendo Ikari is the commander of NERV and abandoned Shinji as a child. Much of Shinji’s personal anguish arises from his dysfunctional relationship with his father, which only scratches the surface of the many layers of conflict and darkness throughout the series.
Many of Evangelion’s themes are interwoven and connected closely. Loneliness, sexuality, and depression are each shown to go hand in hand on occasion (after all, they are essential factors of the human condition). For example, the character of Misato Katsuragi, the 29 year old woman who works as the operations director at NERV and is Shinji’s (temporary) guardian-of-sorts, is shown to try to cope with her loneliness using sexuality. Sexuality’s relation to loneliness is actually an aspect that The End of Evangelion seems to explore in a very original and notable way. In the last twenty or so minutes of the film, there is a sequence in which Shinji Ikari is brought to a reality in which all human beings are unified physically and mentally, thus making the entire population one single consciousness, therefore quenching Shinji of his profound loneliness. “Is this death?” asks Shinji. “Not quite. This is a world in which we are all one.” The imagery of the character of Rei (she will be discussed in some detail later) lying on top of Shinji as both of their naked bodies intermingle in a seemingly liquidated form is rather sexual. This entire idea of being able to reach inside another person’s physical self can be interpreted as a metaphor for the act of sexual penetration. Through this lens, it can be observed that Anno is, in a way, saying that sexual contact is the only true way in which humans can, in the most literal sense, be rid of their inevitably lonely states. This theory brings us back to how Misato Katsuragi uses sexuality to cope with her unbearable feelings of loneliness. However, Misato’s loneliness is never truly quenched. All freedom from the restrictions of one’s own consciousness is temporary...if such freedom is even possible anyway. The End of Evangelion keeps itself open to many questions such as these while showing its characters attempting to answer them, attempting to escape the existential and depressive aspects of existence. The sexual content of the film fuels philosophical thought rather than having the slightest crudity or even real eroticism to it.
An hour into the film, the most directly sexual sequence is depicted with all the psychological weight one would expect from Evangelion at this point. While its focus is largely on Misato, she remains offscreen for most of the sequence. However, her voice is powerful enough to make her its central figure. “I guess I just do things like that...to prove I exist.” she says. “It makes me feel wanted,” she says, “and so it makes me feel happy.” Plainly and brutally honest statements such as these make up much of the dialogue in the most purely psychological moments in Evangelion. The characters are desperately trying to make sense of the world around them. Even more importantly, the characters are desperately trying to make sense of themselves. Misato’s method of coping with the confusing and depressive elements of her life requires physicality. “Yes,” she says to Shinji as he presumably watches her performing an unspecified sex act, “this is also me. The me that exists when two hearts are joined as one.” Sex makes her feel as if she is “needed” by another and thus it makes her feel better about herself and her life, if only for a short period of time. After all, what could possibly be more intimate than intimacy?
When all humans merge as one, and all beings become a single united consciousness, it is the result of what is known as The Third Impact. To explain everything about The Third Impact sequence plot-wise would take up a lot of time, so I’d prefer to examine its emotional implications. The Third Impact sequence is definitely the film’s highlight, it is an abstract explosion of color, horror, and drama, showing the end of the world as we know it, the beginning of a new era in the history of humanity. “This is the world you wanted,” says Rei. It is a scene of conflicting emotions, a terrifying and tragic culmination of the film’s darkest, heaviest thematic material. This is a world Shinji has wished for in a fit of selfishness. The scene opens with Shinji choking fellow Evangelion pilot Asuka after arguing with her (all of this is taking place entirely in his mind, as Asuka was horrifically killed a few scenes earlier), queuing the soundtrack’s most memorable piece to play. The piece is a song entitled “Komm Süsser Tod”, a song that lyrically communicates extreme misery, adding to the discomforting and disturbing power of the sequence: “So with sadness in my heart/I feel the best thing I could do/Is end it all/And leave forever/What’s done is done, it feels so bad/What once was happy now is sad/I’ll never love again/My world is ending.” All sorts of images soon clutter the screen, including some oddly dark children’s drawings followed by the sudden flash of each of the title screens of the original show’s episodes, eventually cutting to a collage of obscured, blurry, overlayed visuals taken from the Evangelion saga. Behind these visuals, Shinji’s voice can be heard musing on the existential pain and torment of life as Rei responds with such cryptic questions as “Then what is your hand for?” This brief moment ends in the image of Shinji as a toddler, crying desperately after presumably being abandoned by his father, as Shinji’s teenage self can be heard saying “Is it okay for me to be here?”
This single minute of the film is an explosive expression of inner turmoil and struggling. Before the world as man has known it is reborn into a unification of all humans into a single being, Shinji’s anxieties violently conflict, everything seems to be falling apart, and yet this is what Shinji wants, or thinks he wants. In an article entitled “The Very World You Wished For: On Cinema As Authorial Therapy”, the article’s author Christopher Runyon writes, “Shinji would rather force everyone on earth to become one with his own form than go back to the life he had before: unable to socially connect with others, or find an individual who unconditionally loves him for who he is.” This description of Shinji’s internal motivations exposes many of its beautifully depicted flaws; it shows its selfishness as well as its deep seated pain and agony. In my own life, I’ve had moments in which I would do almost anything to rid myself of depressive feelings, regardless of what it means for the future of anyone or anything, which is what Shinji is experiencing and is even acting directly out on.
Eventually, the sequence drifts out of Shinji’s mind, and instead focuses on the actual execution of The Third Impact. A seemingly endless amount of clones of Rei, who is revealed to be one of the beings conducting The Third Impact (to explain her character much further would be far too difficult and time consuming, so just go with it), appear, disappear, and reappear throughout the NERV headquarters, shape shifting and ruminating sadly on human existence, highlighting life’s loneliness, which is soon to be eliminated. Humans are caused to explode into an orange liquid (later revealed to be called LCL) as the Rei clones float throughout the scenery and embrace their victims. One of the most effective moments in the entire film is when Maya Ibuki, a secondary character in the series and film who works as a computer technician at NERV headquarters, embraces a Rei clone who has shapeshifted into Ritsuko, the main scientist at NERV who had been shot and killed a few scenes earlier. Maya clearly shows great affection for the woman, hugging her and smiling and passionately calling out her name. Suddenly, the two explode into LCL, and Maya’s disembodied hand, oozing with the strange orange liquid, is shown in a subsequent close-up, flying across a nearby screen that reads “I NEED YOU.” Those three words alone elevate the impact of the moment to new heights. Such small details are throughout this epic sequence that makes brief lines of dialogue make the power of the insanity surrounding them even more profound and powerful.
The scene continues to go down the rabbit hole of horror and chaos, soon cutting to Shinji’s father, expressing his gratitude that this moment has finally come, realizing that he will at long last be able to reunite with his dead wife, Yui. “When Shinji is around me,” he says, “all I ever do is cause him pain. It was better when I did nothing at all.” For almost the entirety of the Evangelion saga, Shinji’s father is portrayed with little sympathy, until this devastating moment of understanding. Gendo Ikari’s own vulnerabilities and regrets are most directly exposed, the spirit of his wife appearing before him. “I don’t deserve to be loved.” he says. Eventually, he commits suicide by being consumed by one of the Evangelions. The climactic nature of this entire sequence is rising, everything is coming to an end, the interiors of many characters are being exposed and subsequently disposed of. Whoever the bad or good guys are in this situation is blurred, what even is happening for much of it is even more blurred. Soon, everything has spiralled into even further chaos; a giant form of Rei grows wings, multiple mechas in outer space grow extended heads resembling Rei, great beams of light green surrounded by red dots crawl across all of Earth, etc. The entire sequence becomes dizzyingly confusing, and this is only fitting considering the fact that it is a depiction of forces that go beyond human understanding. Our entire existence is being completely reborn, shaped into a single consciousness, and it is all under the control of massive beings that lie somewhere between the spiritual and scientific. Every shot has a new surprise in store, every image triggers some strong response, and soon the idea of cinema itself is metaphorically destroyed by Anno’s boundless vision. After another psychedelic collage of obscured and colorful imagery to close off The Third Impact sequence, we are confronted with the unexpected presence of a live action scene. We see rows of movie theater seats facing us, the viewer. In the following moments, the entire idea of fiction itself will practically be deconstructed. The metafictional messaging of the following moments is mindblowing and endlessly creative. Cinema and reality collide as Anno shows images of present day Tokyo as the voices of his animated characters can be heard, questioning the face of reality and the world around them. In a following shot, the theater seats are filled by the audience of the theatrical release of a previous Evangelion film entitled Death and Rebirth (which is a feature-length recap of the series followed by the first part of what would become The End of Evangelion). The words “Does it feel good?” appear on the screen, confronting the viewer about his or her own experience with this deeply personal work of art. Due to moments like these, some people have interpreted The End of Evangelion as being a feature length middle finger to the show’s fanbase, but I cannot help but disagree. Something as brutally honest as this film cannot merely function as an intentional tool to provoke a show’s fandom. However, it is clear that Hideaki Anno is trying to subvert audience expectations, he is trying to provide people with an experience that is all his own so he can truly express his deep seated emotions and struggles using art.
However, my defense of Hideaki Anno does not imply that there is no irony or cynicism on display in the film. The death of Asuka is one of the most painful scenes in the film due to how viciously ironic it is. In the moments leading up to her death, she is shown to have a burst of confidence that allows her to defeat the Eva series units sent to attack her by the underground organization SEELE. This confidence is caused by a vision she has of her deceased mother embracing her, showing her the care and affection Asuka has secretly desired throughout the saga. It is revealed in a later episode of the series that Asuka’s mother had extreme mental health problems and eventually committed suicide after attempting to convince her daughter to do the same. Asuka’s character has kept this bottled away for years and has decided to hide it behind a controlling and loud personality and an obsession with being completely independent and responsible for herself as well as a streak of extreme competitiveness (another perfect example of how Evangelion portrays the varying ways a person may deal with depression and/or trauma). In her final moments, she seems to have reconciled with it all, and has convinced herself that her mother has been with her “all along” and is cheering Asuka on in this brutal battle. Asuka is able to fight off multiple attackers in a matter of seconds, joyous music blasting in the background. However, towards the end of the battle things seem to be getting much less hopeful. The “active time” available for the Evangelion unit Asuka is in runs out, her unit is brutally stabbed and she feels its horrific pain (NOTE: all Evangelion pilots physically feel the damage done to the units they pilot when in battle), the Eva series units she supposedly defeated reactivate, and yet she still tries to convince herself that she will somehow defeat them. “I’ll kill you,” she repeats, her hand hauntingly reaching for the audience, a look upon her face of violent anger. Suddenly, the Evangelion unit’s arm splits in two and a series of giant spears fall from the sky, brutally killing her. All hope is lost, all of the joy leads to a horrifying defeat undercut with the terrified screams of Maya’s reaction to the brutal end of this character’s legacy.
On the other hand, there are some genuinely hopeful moments towards the film’s end. When Shinji finally concludes that a world in which all individual forms must create a single consciousness is not finally worthwhile, his wish for things to go back as they once were seems to be granted. His attempt to run away from reality and terminate all feelings of loneliness and uncertainty has not had the desired results, and thus he comes to terms with himself and the world around him. To the spirits of Rei and another character named Kaworu he asks, “But what are the two of you within my heart?” “We are the hope,” answers Rei, “that people will one day be able to understand each other. “And we are the words,” says Kaworu, “‘I love you.’” Sweeping violin music plays in the background, and this time there is not a hint of irony to the score. There is a genuine beauty to the words, images, and concepts now being presented, and things seem to have finally come to a resolution in Shinji’s mind. He so desperately desires the existence of individuality to revive, and he accepts that it will occasionally lead to feelings of alienation and frustration. Negativity will continue, but he has learned to accept it. As his body drifts back to the reality of separated human forms, he admits that he still doesn’t know where his happiness lies, that he still will question why he’s here, whether or not it was good to come back to a world of individuality and free will, but he expresses his own inner realization that these things are necessary pieces of his own identity. There are some things that will never be resolved in life, there are always doubts and problems and feelings of emptiness or loneliness. That’s just the human condition, and it’s an important thing to learn to somehow accept.
This leads us to the final few minutes of the film, in which Shinji has drifted back to Earth as an individual being. The ending is perhaps the ultimate example of the film’s conflicting aspects of hope and cynicism. In the previously mentioned article “On Cinema As Authorial Therapy, Part 3,” the final scene is interpreted in a much more positive and resolutive manner than I, and many other viewers of the film, necessarily agree with. When Shinji awakens in a practically abandoned, post-apocalyptic world surrounded by a red sea of LCL, he sees the sleeping body of Asuka lying beside him. He gets on top of her and begins to choke her. And in a move that breaks the hearts of Shinji and most fans of the show,” writes Christopher Runyon, “Asuka gently places her hand on Shinji’s cheek instead of fighting back. And just like that, Shinji loosens his grip on her neck, and experiences the warmth and affection he’s been searching for his entire life in that one, small act of forgiveness. And for him, it was all worth it.” There is a validity in this interpretation, but there are some key details in this sequence that are left out. When Shinji lets go of Asuka’s neck, he breaks down into tears, and they don’t come across to me as thankful tears, tears that would express something being “worth it.” Even more importantly, Runyon’s description of the ending omits the final line which adds a layer of cynicism to the entire scene that I believe to be undeniable. Asuka’s eyes look down upon Shinji (Asuka now seems to have dominance over Shinji despite him being literally on top of her), and she whispers the line that closes off the entire Evangelion saga: “How disgusting.” If these details were not present in the ending, I would likely agree very much with Runyon’s interpretation, but considering how absolutely bleak that final line and its delivery are, I find it to be in many ways a brutal closer. It’s also cryptic to a potentially stressful degree, making me question what exactly it was that went wrong or right during the reversal of The Third Impact. Was it even truly reversed? Have Rei and Kaworu betrayed Shinji despite their seeming kindness? Anno refuses to answer any of these questions, and it’s best that he doesn’t. As I already pointed out, this film deals with forces beyond our comprehension, so naturally it is going to be confusing. This is also a film that deals with depression and loneliness, so naturally it is not going to have a clear conclusion. Anyone who is truly depressed may see much improvement over time, but there will still be traces of their depression left in them. It would be unrealistic to end this story on a completely positive and hopeful note. However, there is still room for hope in there somewhere. It isn’t as if Shinji refused to hold back on his action, and actually succeeded in strangling Asuka to death. When Asuka reaches for his cheek, it does seem like a genuinely merciful gesture to some degree. It seems as if she may be able to accept him, even if she will still berate him on occasion. It seems as if there is some odd chance that she could possibly be a partner for him, somebody who will unexpectedly help quench his loneliness. At the same time, the film ends on a note of misery. Neither of the characters on screen are expressing any hope in its final shot, they are both feeling greatly negative emotions just as they had been throughout the entire series. There is no concrete answer as to whether or not things will get better; characters such as Misato, Ritsuko, and Gendo still died on screen, and the victims of The Third Impact are not actually seen to be returning to their states of individual consciousness. There is an uncertainty and confusion to everything, the resolution of a few minutes prior has been almost entirely wiped, and it’s hard to exactly know what to feel.
While The End of Evangelion’s runtime is just over 85 minutes, there are still many more elements worth discussing. So many sequences inspire reactions that are both heavily emotional and intellectual. It’s a film with the power to make a viewer think and feel like few other films can, and its insight into issues of all sorts is unbelievably brilliant. By subverting audience expectations and exploring the human psyche in a stylized and creative fashion, Hideaki Anno was able to create a masterpiece that is worthy of all the discussion, analysis, and admiration it has earned over the years. The End of Evangelion may be the finale of an iconic anime series, but it is also a profound and unique work of art that perfectly expresses what it is to be human.
Works Cited
Anno, Hideaki and Kazuya Tsurumaki, directors. Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion. Gainax, 1997.
Anno, Hideaki. Neon Genesis Evangelion, Gainax, 1995.
Atkinson, Ryan. “20 Years Later: How The End of Evangelion Perfectly Depicted Depression.” Cultured Vultures, 9 Aug. 2017, culturedvultures.com/end-evangelion-depicted-depression-better-film/.
Runyon, Christopher. “On Cinema As Authorial Therapy, Part 3: ‘The Very World You Wished For.’” Movie Mezzanine, 3 Nov. 2013, moviemezzanine.com/on-cinema-as-authorial-therapy-part-3/.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Sep 10, 2018
Oddly overrated, kind of preachy music video with both good and bad qualities.
The Good: The animation is quite lovely, and the general visual ideas presented are quite appealing. There are some very interesting concepts and moments buried within the loose story this short has going for it, and is even, in the end, somewhat powerful to whatever extent. I mean, the final lines of dialogue are halfway between a pro or con in the context of this short. They are super cheesy and eye rolling and unneeded, a more artful, less "mainstream" work would certainly not include such an obvious explanation of the message
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at the end, but, on a purely emotional level, part of these final lines did sort of touch me. I just wanted to say "awwwww" at the end of it. Like some sort of loser.
The Bad: Aspects of the video do feel like something a self deprecating self described weeaboo teenager would call deep and cry about, and since it's so easy for me to just create an entire stereotype out of thin air because of these aspects, I'm sure they must take away some Good Anime Points from the general presentation. The music the music video goes to is overly upbeat for the video itself I thought. There were elements to the electronic soundscape created that I found very sonically pleasing, but, generally, it was kind of a lame, generic song that some hipster would blast at a night club he goes to white knight ugly feminist women for a few hours a week that a bunch of cool, epic younger people would raise their red plastic cups full of Underaged Drinking Juice in the air to. This is not a compliment. The lyrics are also kind of really bad and generic. Yeah.
Overall, the video is okay go watch it if you want.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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Sep 10, 2018
For fans of experimental horror, 'Watashia no Kao' is a potential treat. Personally, I can't get enough of well crafted avant-garde horror films, and this very brief animated short, while not exactly great, does certainly have many elements I found to be extremely impressive and interesting. The animation is heavily stylized, and the visuals presented are highly unique, creative, strange, etc. Those who appreciate surrealism as much as I do will definitely find plenty in here to like; however, I will say, the sound design is pretty bad. Maybe it was just the copy I viewed, but the audio was actually terrible. You could argue
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it "ads to the atmosphere" or something, but I think it just made the short seem a bit more amateurish than necessary. In general, this short is certainly an interesting work that's intense, vibrant, although mostly meaningless and inaccessibly abstract.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Sep 2, 2018
From the director of the highly praised, and rather impressive, animated feature 'Your Name.', this is a slightly earlier work of his split into three parts entitled '5 Centimeters Per Second'. The extraordinary talent showcased in 'Your Name.' certainly shows itself all over this brief and beautifully animated love story. The visuals of this film are seriously gorgeous, this may be one of the best looking movies I have ever seen.
Unfortunately, the quality of the actual content itself is not at all on par with the animation and technical qualities. There is atmosphere, the sound design and music both work brilliantly together to contribute
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to the fantastic creation of this entire animated world, and there are various moments of genuine power and bittersweetness. However, there are so many moments in which all I care about is the visuals, and there are even moments in which I've just zoned out entirely and don't care about much of anything anymore. It isn't bad or a total failure, but much of the film does feel like wasted potential, unfortunately. Even the structure, I feel, is well done, and the events that occur themselves could be depicted in a much more engaging and powerful way. Really, the main issue here must be the writing and the lack of genuinely compelling central characters. The two lovers at the core of this film are shown to not really have very interesting personalities, honestly, they are just kind of there. Being just kind of there doesn't make for engaging cinema, even if there are, as I said, a few moments of genuine power. There are many bright spots, and technically it is a masterpiece, but the plague of tediousness haunting some of this film drags it down a bit. Also, the music-video thing at the end or whatever it was...that was awful. I'm disappointed it ended like that.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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Sep 2, 2018
After having watched the full 'Toradora!' series, the first full anime series I have ever actually completed, I found myself wanting more. Luckily, there are extra little 'Toradora!' projects/specials like this in existence. Unluckily, 'Toradora!: SOS' is extremely flawed and is laughable compared to the original series; however, the characters ARE still here, and are fun to spend further time with, even if, for some reason, they are these bizarre miniature versions of themselves with bigger heads and smaller bodies. Also, it was kind of upsetting to see that, for literally no reason, Taiga and Ami are just these weird cat girls now; they
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have cat ears on their heads and tails. Everything else about them is human, except for the ears and tails, they're neko girls and I kind of hate it. There's one point in which Taiga is excited to see her friend Minori, and her means of greeting Minori is heartwarming in a way due to what we've seen previously in the series, due to how truly loving and powerful their bond and friendship is, but then it just cuts to Taiga's cat tail wagging excitedly and it's like "wtf even is this". Other than that, it's a mostly silly show in which these lovable characters react absurdly to various foods, and it's pretty consistently funny and extremely short. If you loved the original series, you might as well see this if not just as a curio.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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