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Anime originals are rare; stellar ones even rarer. In today's anime industry, much like it is in Hollywood, we are bombarded by endless numbers of adaptations of already popular franchises as they help to guarantee a level of financial success. Hoshiai no Sora is a 12 episode passion project written and directed by Kazuki Akane which was originally produced for 24 episodes before it was then told it could only air 12. This is incredibly clear from the phenomenal production values, and its unique approach to the sports drama genre but also in that the show does not end at episode 12.

Traditionally in sports ... anime, the sport in question is the centrepiece of the characters' lives. Even in Run with the Wind, it is not long before running becomes the most important thing in the character's lives. Sports anime in general are no different than shounen anime in that they act as fantasy escapism for viewers to vicariously live beautiful, youth-energetic, rose-coloured high school lives with action, adventure, and camaraderie. In many sports anime, we never even see the parents of these children let alone be involved in their children's lives.

Hoshiai no Sora is unique in that it portrays a group of young middle-schoolers whose life situations are what is being explored and the relationship between these characters in the sport are a consequence of this. This is a mature show that seeks to show what real friendship and camaraderie is and how school and sports can be the refuge from the domestic situations at home. What is most impressive about the show is the dialogue - it is not cheesy, it is not contrived, it is not overly-laden with shounen tropes of eyerolling-inducing cheers of "With the power of friendship, we can literally do anything", it is an accurate portrayal of how children may react and respond to tough situations and how friends can truly help each other.

The themes explored in this show are wide and also mature - not seen in most anime in this genre. It would be a spoiler to discuss any of these further but it is worth noting that a sequel is in the works and that this show was made to be 24 episodes long (and indeed they had already produced an ep 13)! Some may find the lack of conclusion to be unsatisfying but personally for me, the pacing of this show was perfect and any attempt to rush a conclusion would be ill-fated.

The animation is brimming with attention to detail. The way each character is animated shows their own unique quirks and personality traits and right from the beginning, we can see differences in the way characters play soft tennis. Even, the ED oozes more passion and animation than some entire anime. But it is the cinematography and camera work that makes this show stand out. This show does not rely on stills and Powerpoint-esque presentations to show its action. We see action, impact, and reaction and the camera angles are readily used to amply the excitement and dynamism of the action in a way that regular TV cannot. Hoshiai no Sora takes advantage of the anime medium and takes no shortcuts.

The soundtrack by jizue is one of the best OSTs of 2019 not least because it captures and amplifies the emotions in the scenes, in the way drama and sports OSTs should, but also because the sound is different enough such that it is attributable to Hoshiai no Sora. To design and tailor a soundtrack to as show means the audience should be able to associate it with the specific scenes in this specific show where it is played and jizue nails it.

When Fall 2019 started airing, I surely did not believe that I would be blessed with another character-driven realistic sports drama so soon after Run with the Wind. However, I was blessed with something greater. An anime original that is brimming with confidence in its approach, its production values, and its willingness to explore adolescence in a genre that is oversaturated with what are nothing more than battle shounen wearing the disguise of a sports jersey. And for that I am grateful, and I truly recommend this to any fans of authentic character dramas, and hope the stars align once more to provide us with the sequel we deserve.

The tripartite anthology "Shikioriori", is deeply ingrained in Chinese culture and recent Chinese history, in particular that of China's rapid economic development during the 1990s, so it pains me to read so many reviews that seem to exhibit no awareness and no understanding of the cultural context and demographic to which this film targets.

1) Sunny Breakfast

For non-Chinese people, or those who have not grown up in Chinese-influenced societies like much of South East Asia, you may not know that food is widely recognised as the most important part of Chinese culture. That Chinese people often greet each other with "Have you eaten" and that Chinese ... parents will express their love for their children not with "I love you" but "Have you eaten/there is food" is merely one of the many culturally ingrained aspects of Chinese culture where food is often the basis for family bonding and socialising.

In "Sunny Breakfast", Xiaomin contemplates the ephemerality of people and things in life, with his most cherished experiences relating back to his favourite noodles. The whole vignette takes the form of Xiaomin's inner thoughts and soliloquising as we follow his life's journeys as we observe snippets of the memories he looks back to, as he feels his life is nothing more than a tasteless existence, that no longer has the "flavour of his youth" about which he reminisces and from which he begins to learn.

The extended metaphor and the experiences he goes through are very much those that most ordinary Chinese people that live in cities post the late 1980s when Deng Xiaoping begun the process of transformation Shanghai to the megacity it is today. For a short story, "Sunny Breakfast" does well in encapsulating the experiences many young Chinese adults will have gone through and the thought processes they felt. In the whirlwind of time, it is easy to forget the impermanence of that which one grows up with and just that alone is sufficient material for a short story like the first of Shikioriori's to explore.

2) A Little Fashion Show

This is the most straightforward and least attached to Chinese culture of the three and may be more accessible emotionally and storywise to MAL's Western base. It is a short story about cherishing those close to you and how family, as well as recognising the bilateral nature of such relationships. Perhaps the weakest of the three, its simplicity nonetheless means that its narrative is clear even if the experience of viewing it feels a bit rushed as the plot proceeds from one to the next, with little time for the nuanced introspection and characterisation we had of Xiaomin in the previous film.

I consider this to have been the weakest entry as its appeal to pathos is not particularly convincing and could have benefitted from more introspection of the sisters rather creating an antagonist, whose purpose had little value beyond advancing the plot whose message could have been achieved without so I felt it to be more shallow than the others. Luckily, being in the middle saves "Shikioriori" from giving a bad first impression or a disappointing finale.

3) Shanghai Love

Even though it's a homage to Byousoku 5 Centimeter, I think it's more of an indictment of MAL's demographic that this film is being likened to all of Shinkai's other works when really it shares very little with any of his works. That a mere story of 2 adolescents in love that faces struggle is enough for people to liken "Shanghai Love" with Byousoku 5 Centimeter is more of a testament to the lack of repertoire MAL's demographic has surrouding romance as a genre where people view romance as dating and "who ends up with whom" rather than romance as being a medium via which to explore human relationships, emotions, and growth etc. Regardless, that doesn't change the fact that it does not come close to reaching the sheer emotional profundity and character authenticity and complexity Byousoku 5 Centimeter achieved, nor the surgical precision with which Shinkai's film explored its themes.

"Shanghai Love" is more about Shanghai and Chinese culture than it is really about love. The story surrounds 3 friends who through various circumstances end up on different life paths that lead to our protagonist to ponder on his present and future, sparked by a reminder of the past. What I found impressive in this story was the way Chinese familial structure, relationships, and familial expectations are all accurately woven in the context of 1990s Shanghai which faced rapid modernisation, gentrification as well as technological development - themes that were all deftly used as metaphors in this romantic tale.

It is the longest of the three but aptly works as a conclusion to this anthology. Whereas the first focused heavily on one's past, the second on the present, this final film goes one step further using its additonal time to encompass the future and the film's ending culminates into an emotionally rewarding experience that feels like chicken soup for the soul.

--Final Thoughts--

Shikioriori is a Chinese production made for Chinese, or at the very least, Eastern audiences. Its audiovisuals are strong owing to its production committee and brevity but nothing exceptional. But crucially, it takes advantage of the time it has to provide a reflective and heartfelt piece about the transience of life, youth and on grasping the future, in a context that is often very ingrained within modern Chinese society. However, these themes are universal and I think audiences from all over the world can relate to the problems and feelings our protagonists hold, in a succinct package that can be digested separately in 3 parts, if you feel you don't want to commit to something long.

I think for a lot of mainland Chinese millenials in their twenties, there is something even greater to pontificate upon and extract from Shikioriori, a film that I personally thoroughly enjoyed, and captured me in its reminiscent and phantasmagorical atmosphere.

Arguably no genre in manga or anime suffers more from an ill-fated combination of cliche reliance and a basic premise than action shounen. Whilst it is not inherently bad for a show to skilfully execute well-trodden territory (for which there are plenty of shounen that do), Ohtaka’s “Magi”, true to its adventurous spirit, treads beyond the boundaries of its genre without ever losing the heart-racing excitement that all shounen lovers yearn for.

An allusion to the Middle Eastern folk tales of “One Thousand and One Nights”, the world of Magi is unlike most we’ve seen in that it neither draws its main inspiration from the ninjas, ... folklore and mythologies of Japan à la Naruto, Bleach etc., nor from the superheroes of the West (e.g. BokuAca). The premise is that of a world in which mysterious towers have spawned across the globe, that if overcome, supposedly grants the conquerors of these life-threatening dungeons the magical powers of a djinn. If this were a typical shounen, the story would not expand beyond this premise and we would be presented with a small cast of characters who will inevitably face fierce rivalries, powerful friendships, slapstick comedy and action.

Magi guarantees you all of this, especially at the start, but the story truly shines once the initial worldbuilding is established as Magi uses its premise as a springboard for exploring socio-political, economic and ontological issues. The conflict in the plot arcs of Magi are grounded upon one of these issues which makes for a more powerful experience that relates to our real world but connecting each and every one of these arcs is a story about a boy whose search for his identity, beliefs and ideologies on the social and political issues in his world are constantly challenged. It frustrates me beyond belief when in shounen our protagonist has such inherently strong convictions and sense of justice that they are only “weak” in terms of their physical abilities and powers because that narrows the storyline and character development to merely the acquisition and development of their combat prowess. Shounen protagonists almost never truly engage with the complexities of the issues they face, if there are even any at all in the story. Alibaba and co. are not fight bots who merely beat people up into magically agreeing with their ideology nor is he a paragon of wisdom whose words convince anyone he manages to speak to – that is more along the lines of Sinbad but even he has plenty of depth. Magi’s world and characters may be wonderfully supernatural but they are also a reflection of our own world and people.

My only issues with Magi are that its ambitious storytelling means that the balance between action and politics is at times compromised. Certain arcs can be very focused on the politics and others on the fighting. For many shounen readers, if the action is the only aspect you want to observe, there will be times when you may find yourself losing interest. Magi does not achieve the absolute pinnacle of storytelling that sees a perfect transition between the two but nonetheless it still achieves this better than the vast majority of shounen. Regarding the ending, although the series concludes excellently with regards to the main issues at hand, it felt slightly rushed and further attention to the vast cast we met along the way would've very much been appreciated.

One of the main benefits of having a manga have its premise set in Middle Eastern folklore is being able to have art that shows the dazzling designs and drawings of fantastical beings and creatures that most people have probably never come across. The character expressions and designs are memorable and fun but Magi’s art shines the most in its action scenes. When our warriors fight and djinns are released, the manga sometimes requires you to spend a couple minutes per panel just to marvel in the designs and as the series progresses, the sheer scale of the battles and wars that we observe. Combined with Ohtaka’s panelling, which excels in constructing fluidity between scenes in a medium where images are still, Magi is rarely ever a visual bore to read.

Magi, the manga, was not what I expected after having watch the anime. Whilst certainly, Balbadd and Magnostadt arcs certainly give you a glimpse of its potential, the anime did not adapt far enough to see what Magi is truly about. If the political aspects of Magi and its universe appeal to you, I recommend reading it entirely. Even if Magi is not as surgical in its exploration of these issues as manga who dedicate themselves towards "deeper" themes, the fact that it is also an equally amazing adrenaline-rushing and heart-pounding action, should convince you to read Magi and for those aforementioned reasons, I would wholeheartedly recommend this manga to both shounen lovers and shounen-sceptics alike.

To describe “Durarara!!” as atypical or multi-faceted would be a severe understatement by any measure. Narita’s creation is a rarity in that it is a show whose characters and the universe in which they inhabit are totally homogeneous – the characters are the universe and vice versa. Durarara is a piece of metafiction that primarily explores youth culture in Japan although much of its revelations and developments are relatable or can be extrapolated into the Western world. What is particularly impressive is that all this social commentary comes slickly packaged in a character drama whose comedy, romance, supernatural conceptions and eclectic cast can be appreciated ... even if one were to ignore the underlying purpose of them all.

However, if you’re willing to commit to Durarara, you will find there is an inexplicably larger amount of satisfaction to derive from than those who decide not to. I say this because Durarara is an incredibly complex story as it comprises of a large ensemble cast, all of whom play fundamental roles in the story which itself is told in a non-linear fashion. The storytelling is done in such a way that different parts of the story are experienced through the perspectives of a diverse set of characters which ranges from insatiable high-schoolers to eccentric Russian sushi chefs and a mythical motorcyclist. Throughout the show, viewers will be exposed to seemingly tangential subplots but as one would expect, they do all coalesce and are components of the story. Durarara's brilliance lies partly in this artistically inventive mode of storytelling which enables the show to carry a sophisticated narrative without feeling overbearing or convoluted because each episode or sequence is being narrated by new key characters that are still being introduced far down the story line which keeps each episode fresh and fascinating.

Within the space of 24 episodes, an enormous quantity of information is being relayed to the viewers and Durarara excels at juggling all its characters and subplots, giving the right amount of focus for all our characters. But it is precisely because the story is so hectic that it requires your full attention because all the supposedly “irrelevant” subplots and interactions are all elements that will be drawn upon much later on even into the second season. It is crucial to note that the notion of “seasons” is a purely economic one – the story doesn't suddenly “conclude” in the first season. Durarara is a singular piece of fiction based on light novels and whilst the show has arcs, the relevance of the show’s arcs do not stop when the respective arc ends. Despite this, its ending does feel wholesome and it deftly executes the conclusion in such a manner that it could very well stand alone as an individual work.

The fundamental essence of Durarara is that of a supernatural Ikebukuro where the story is set. Indeed, Ikebukuro is the only one thing that connects all our characters and their plots. The series’ presentation of modern society and youth can be seen by both its aesthetics, conceptions and the inclusion of the Internet. These exist to explore a whole host of ideas such as but not limited to: the notion of identity, especially in a world of anonymity, reality (or at least the perception of) and power and its various forms. But it does so by elegantly weaving this into the story rather than shoving these themes down your throat. Durarara vastly distinguishes itself from the rest by creating a consistently engaging fictional universe that emulates reality, where all these aspects exist and can be further delved into, instead of the usual attempts that feel artificial because it is evident that every creation of the story exists solely to explore a specific theme, sacrificing realism and preventing any semblance of transcendence from a work of fiction. I feel Durarara does transcend; it understands that there is no “main character” in real life as we are all individuals living our own lives and in an increasingly connected world, there are bound to be overlaps. And if you have a cast like the one Narita has created, then you have one hell of a story.

A show’s universe is never complete without complementary audio-visuals. The soundtrack is a quirky, snappy and a primarily light-hearted score produced by a combination of piano and jazz instruments. It no doubt helps to construct Durarara's version of Ikebukuro and is unique although nothing too special, in my opinion. Conversely, I must mention that the OPs are outstanding and both OPS are of my personal favourites. Visually, the show is nothing too spectacular. The background and setting emulate much of real life Ikebukuro and the colour palette is wonderfully vibrant to match. The character designs are wholly distinct for each one and cement each character’s idiosyncrasies and general traits - the abundance of Durarara artwork in the anime community acts as a testament to how beloved the character designs are.

Ultimately, Durarara is a multi-dimensional, fast-paced and innovative drama which successfully blends mystery, the supernatural, comedy, romance and social commentary. I feel that there is something for most people in this show with its diverse cast and multitude of subplots although much of the entertainment can be missed if you look for quick satisfaction. In which case, it may not be for you because the show definitely takes its time to explore itself and its many themes. If any of the aforementioned descriptions do appeal to you or you’re simply looking for a distinct experience that encompasses a wide range of genres, then much like one of our characters, you may look to relocate yourself in this electrifying world that is Ikebukuro.

The greatest injustice that can be inflicted upon “Kotonoha no Niwa” is to falsely and narrowly label this 46-minute film a simple story of love. Too often do you see people claim that this movie is one about a "forbidden love" created by an age difference and it is through these lens that unwarranted and confused criticisms of the show sometimes emerge. The Garden of Words has a level of nuanced complexity that is concealed for the presumptuous as it requires you to think and pay attention to its use of visuals as well as its dialogue to ... realise this. Indeed, Makoto Shinkai himself stated that he wanted to write a tale of “lonely sadness” and whilst romance is definitely a prevalent theme, it is not portrayed nor explored in a traditional fashion.

The entire plot centralises around the interactions between our two main characters: a young student and a mysterious grown-up woman. Be that as it may, the dialogue is very minimal but simultaneously so potent for a vast majority of the development that occurs and the insights we gain into our protagonists hinges upon brief and restrained conversations. It is the absence of dialogue in many cases that convey human emotions more eminently and passionately than when spoken and the visuals play an incredible role to enhance this. Given the film’s brevity, it requires every element to contribute to the plot and no element exists without a reason – be it simple movements, scenery, music or dialogue. It is truly impressive to see how effectively and concisely deep emotions and their underlying intentions are conveyed. The story is told elegantly for nothing is wasted.

Rain is a fundamental aspect that initially represents the condition necessary for our protagonists to meet. I think with regards to the symbolism that Shinkai has employed to explore key themes, it is better if you watch and contemplate yourself on them as this is where the majority of the satisfaction lies in this movie. The most impressive aspect of the Shinkai's film was how effectively extended metaphors such as the rain were used consistently and in an enlightening fashion which keeps the film short yet brimming with sentiment. These themes coalesce with our characters and their self-discoveries to tell a larger story at hand in a modern social context exploring the Japanese traditional notion of love. Takao’s burning desire to transcend into adulthood and realise his dreams is beautifully embodied by the older and seemingly sophisticated woman but even during the film’s brief journey, Takao’s preconceptions are deconstructed and despite their differences, they come to realise their similarities through their interactions under the rain which are painfully human. Perhaps my only significant issue I found was the lack of emotional intensity or potency that led our female main character to the position and predicament she was in. By no means was it weak but it seemed lacking compared to how brilliantly Takao was characterised and this slight imbalance for me, hampered the final climax to a certain degree.

For a film whose strengths lies in its representation through resigned soliloquies, much of the portrayal lies in the hands of the artwork and animation which are nothing short of a masterpiece. This is the most visually impressive work I have ever seen in the entirety of the anime medium. The animation is flawless with excellent cinematography such as clever use of deep focus in more intimate scenes that successfully emphasise key metaphors employed and well angled panoramas boasting the vast and gorgeous landscapes that are a sight for sore eyes. The sceneries and landscapes are meticulously drawn with details that are exceptionally similar to real life further enhancing the immersion of the experience. The musical score has a larger focus on softer pieces that almost act as an addition to natural sounds of rain and nature or the cacophony of city-life. The soundtrack is entirely piano-based and range from subtler pieces that capture the ambience of the moment to more prominent pieces such as “Greenery Rain” (one of my favourite anime OSTs) which accompany many of the visual experiences.

“Kotonoha no Niwa” is a magnificent movie that adopts a more nuanced and authentic approach in exploring human relationships. As stated initially, this is not simply a bittersweet romance that many condemn it to be but a subtle journey into the solitude and desires humans hold, within a prominent and relevant modern day social context. All of this is delivered to viewers in a film that entirely takes advantage of the anime medium, showing just how much artistry and cinematic storytelling that resonates within you (as most Shinkai films do) can be achieved in a what is fundamentally 46 minutes of animated images.

Little inspection into the dystopia genre is required to realise that the majority of the dystopic anime are set in a cyberpunk universe. Be it Psycho Pass, Ergo Proxy or Texhnolyze, the average viewer is likely to have seen these "hi-tech" interpretations of future societies. Enter Shinsekai Yori – a series where whose setting is uncannily quaint such that on first glance, it is hard to see it as a dystopia; but it is, and an exceptionally remarkable one indeed.

What distinguishes Shinsekai Yori from its counterparts is the sheer unorthodoxy of its universe. It is one where ... the modern society as we know it has not been replaced by a technologically advanced civilisation but that of a small picturesque town characterised by a community whose lifestyles have regressed into that of villagers. It is within these bounds that we follow our protagonists from the ages of 12 to 26 in this insidiously deceptive world. Throughout the series, Shinsekai Yori’s universe is constantly developed with fascinating conceptions such as the Karma Demons, Cantus and the Queerats (an entirely different yet intelligent species) that all bring into question many of our humanity’s morals and beliefs. Each concept is thoroughly explored and reinforce each other to create a powerful and fascinating dystopia whose elements successfully examines and challenges the philosophies we take for granted.

Despite its complexity, it does not lazily “narrate” the ideologies that we question. You won't be sitting through monologues of lecture-like philosophy or psychology. You see society being critiqued through the journey and consequences of the actions of our protagonists. This is what I find to be the most impressive aspect of the show because Shinsekai Yori fully takes advantage of anime as a medium - a feat that I feel is rare in this genre. The characters' dialogue exist to explore their mind whilst it is their actions and interactions with this post-apocalyptic world that we explore humanity. In order to truly appreciate Shinsekai Yori, it has to be completed as only then will the experience be complete as the show's construction of its world is careful to convey certain messages and hidden meanings throughout the show allowing viewers to formulate and reformulate key ideas and questions without ever stooping to overbearing narration.

The characters in Shinsekai Yori all play crucial elements to our story and the range of our cast fully captures the countless perspectives that people in such a world can hold. They are all effectively portrayed via their interactions which unravels how multi-dimensional they are. These interactions are genuine and there is an excellent balance between dialogue, silence and narration from our female lead Saki whose voice actor must be praised for such an alluring performance. Despite the show’s timespan ranging from our protagonists’ youth to their adulthood, the pacing is impeccable as it changes from a slower pace to accommodate the universe-building to a faster pace needed to match the gravity of the conflicts that occur.

For an immense dystopia, it only makes sense for it to be accompanied with diverse artwork. As we observe their world throughout the seasons and its numerous settings – oceans, mountains, villages both desolate and populated, they are portrayed with their own unique environment and colour choices. This is all contrasted with the use of experimental visuals and cinematography during the more dream-like and ethereal scenes which do not exist to simply invoke awe but contribute to subtly send hints across to the viewer on certain mysteries and foreshadowing certain events. Complementing the visuals is a soundtrack which encapsulates the essence of the show with each track strengthening the visuals and enhancing the overall experience. The soundtrack demonstrates how effectively music can make emotions across the human spectrum more compelling whilst respecting its role of being a supplement to the show and thus maintains our focus on the story the series presents - one which no extent of audiovisuals is required to make its ideas any more resounding than they already are.

All in all, Shinsekai Yori is a series that delivers in every single aspect it aims to explore. It displays enough to connect all the ideas examined together into a singular full dystopia but leaves enough for viewers to intellectually ponder and elaborate for themselves. It is profound yet not pretentious and examines humanity without falling into a safety net of tropes that may suffice the viewer but do not inspire. Unlike many of its counterparts, Shinsekai Yori is not a dystopia that relies on a singular premise but a whole host of powerful conceptions that coalesce to create, not just a society, but an entire universe. It achieves this with excellence and elegantly provides us with the most wholesome and meticulously crafted package of dystopian fiction I have ever seen and I unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone who seeks the same.

High school – It is probably not incorrect to suggest that this is the most ubiquitous setting for anime nowadays. Yet even amongst the endless swathes of high school anime that inevitably centre around cute high school girls, there are always exceptions and Hyouka is one of them.

We find ourselves in the Classic Literature Club of which Oreki Houtarou, our energy-conserving protagonist is reluctantly a member and is soon joined by his eclectic group of friends, thus completing the groundwork for this “mystery” anime. When one considers what constitutes a “mystery” show, it is often associated with preconceptions of crime, horror and eerie suspense ... but Hyouka is not your typical mystery show as it centralises on mysteries of little real-life consequence. These aren't mysteries whose resolution will lead to justice being carried out but mysteries whose consequence lies in how it affects our characters. Nonetheless, Hyouka excels at executing these mysteries and in an atypical manner, with each of our main characters bringing a unique perspective in solving these mysteries, making the process fascinating as we observe the quirky and unpredictable methodologies being used.

Hyouka does not have one unrealistically prodigious detective that can unravel and deconstruct even the most intricate of puzzles but a range of characters, some unique to each case, that all contribute key aspects leading to the solution. This makes for a more fulfilling and genuine resolution as you feel part of the process rather than a bystander in awe of some amazing detective. The solutions themselves are meticulously well-written and thus accurate and realistic yet simultaneously complex making you feel slightly more intelligent by the end of every one. Some may find the lack of ramification in the mysteries innately boring as the characters aren’t actually usually directly involved in them, for they act for their own various reasons but they at least create a desire for you to solve them.

However, what makes Hyouka so enjoyable is not the satisfaction of decrypting it all but the development of our 4 main characters throughout each one. Hyouka is an exemplar of how the high school slice of life genre could be achieved as the relationships between our characters are captivating yet incredibly realistic with each action remaining true to the psyche of high schoolers and the ways they make decisions. The pacing is slow but constant and we can see a smooth progression in the development of our characters which tackle real-life issues that high schoolers face but nonetheless in a Hyouka-esque fashion, usually amongst the mysteries. Besides the hyperbolised curiosity of our female lead, the dialogue is extremely genuine and for me at least, indistinguishable from your real life conversations with friends at school. As the characters interact more with one another and face their problems, we are shown a vast array of emotions and considerable depth to their actions and motivations which are relevant, accurately portrayed and likely to be issues that you yourself may have faced.

On the technical aspects, Kyoto Animation (Kyoani) must be lauded for how brilliantly Hyouka is presented. The atmosphere is prominently compelling with both the visuals and the sound contributing vastly in creating a well-constructed universe that entirely fits Hyouka’s quirkiness. The animation is also of the best I’ve seen – be it the expressions, movements or the background/setting -they are all smoothly animated with appropriate lighting and colour palette to fit the tone of each episode. Hyouka’s episodes are visually stunning to behold in particular when mysteries are being solved, as it involves the use of experimental animation that diverges completely from the usual crisp style to a tailor-made style suited for each different mystery. To top it off, complementing this is a fantastic soundtrack that consists of light instrumental pieces which further amplifies the ambience in each situation. The majority of the pieces share a "playful mystery" theme and whilst lacking in variety, the entire musical score is definitely a strong one that can instantly be identified as "Hyouka's OST" rather than forgettable music which lacks the identity of the show it aims to enhance.

Ultimately, I feel Hyouka is an excellent anime. For me, it fell slightly short simply due to the sense of incompletion in the way the show ends. I say no more to avoid spoilers but if you do watch it you may find out. If you’re looking for a unique mystery or slice of life show whose fortes lie in its characterisation, production values and its take on the mystery aspect - this is one to watch. If you’re however looking for a serious mystery (à la Death Note) then this might not be for you as the satisfaction you receive derives from observing how these mysteries are solved rather than the fear of heavy consequences, and the impacts each one has on the development of our characters. Some anime attract an audience through heavy fanservice, others via an action-packed plot and others with a deep/profound plot. However, Hyouka is an anomaly. It shows us how even seemingly mundane things can be made fascinating. Whilst I obviously cannot guarantee you'll enjoy it, if you’re looking for a distinctly novel anime experience in either mystery or slice of life, then I’d wholeheartedly recommend Hyouka.

Thanks for reading if you got this far!

At first glance, Orange may not seem to be anything more than your typical romance/drama set in your usual shoujo location - a high school. The incorporation of changing fate as its main and defining premise, which in itself is nothing too unique even in the romance department, can lead to premature and ignorant condemnations of Orange as nothing more than a mere "melodramatic shoujo" when it is nothing of the sort.

Whilst its premise may not be something immensely exciting at first glance, what Takano has excelled at is the execution of this premise. There exists a delicate yet extremely refined harmony between the ... potential romance and exploration of our characters both in their present selves and in their future selves, 10 years down the line. One of the most astonishing aspects of Orange is that it successfully balances the two timelines, not only in the pacing of their progression but particularly the ability to reinforce characterisation of their younger selves through their older counterparts and vice versa. This is accompanied by a steady pacing which decelerates accordingly during the exposition of our characters and potential answers to how any of the sci-fi elements are possible and the purpose behind the entire "future letters". Not only has Orange provided a potential explanation to the plausibility of these letters, it maximises the potential of the premise to broaden the possibilities the storyline takes whilst simultaneously respecting the actual complexity of time travel - and the physical reality attached to it. It is all too common for shows to be bogged down by time travel and many series, in anime and manga, fail to respect their premise which often leads to glaring plot holes or a detraction from what the creator is attempting to convey. Orange does not try nor pretend to contain any magnanimous storyline; it is an earnest story whose simple premise acts a platform on which authentic and compelling character growth is achieved.

The characters in Orange present themselves initially to be a cohesive cast with a mixture of personalities that are commonplace in shoujo. For some readers, the existence of certain stereotypical traits may be a deterrent but they provide a sense of appropriate levity and humour in a storyline that explicitly explores mental illness as a key theme. Naho and Kakeru are the series' main focus and their journey is an outstanding exemplar of introspective growth. My experiences with shoujo had previously left me with little expectations on the genre's ability to fully comprehend and portray the whole range of nuanced emotions individuals experience but Orange's characters distinguish themselves by doing so even when faced with a Herculean task of saving a life whilst dealing with how one's own actions can knowingly completely change your own. Through a combination of delving into the regrets of their adult selves, an exposition into their current future lives and the primary storyline concerning our teenage protagonists, readers can experience fully the true gravity of the decisions that they make and do not make and how this may affect them and subsequently their future selves. Orange's prevailing quality is achieving this sweeping exposition by seamlessly entering different POVs and different timelines assembling every perspective of the same events creating a deeper and rounded drama that never turns a blind eye to potential consequences but rather addresses them directly and in an earnest fashion that we would expect a group of young and close friends to approach.

The artwork is simply sublime; Takano has really tailored Orange's visuals to fit its universe perfectly. The drawings have a crisp yet delicate style but maintain the quality of an enchanting romance reminiscent of Io Sakisaka's art. Their high school versions have a youthful and exuberant look in the present which is contrasted by much more mature designs for their future selves. Moreover, attention has clearly been placed in the way facial expressions are drawn and what exactly is being portrayed in every panel - a single chapter of Orange is packed with more development and exposition that most manga could hope to achieve in even 2 or 3 chapters of similar length. The fact that such an elaborate story is told in a mere 22 chapters is a testament to the poetic economy Takano has achieved in Orange.

It is extremely challenging for me to fully explain why I believe Orange is this extraordinary and I attribute that to the series' interwoven and self-reciprocating plot. To compartmentalise Orange as just a tragedy or just a romance or just anything for that matter would be an injustice and a criminal simplification of what is a meticulously well-crafted masterpiece but I feel that if you are looking for a unique story that incorporates any of the aforementioned themes, I would urge you to give Orange a go and to experience a true profoundness in conveying human beings in all its complexity and the power regret can hold. Orange will not garishly and boringly shove its message, any melodrama or textbook philosophy down your throat; its individual elements are there for you to indulge in and to experience together its bittersweet nature.