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Trigger warning for suicide and sexual assault.

We are absolutely starved of high-budget sci-fi thrillers, which is why the community latches onto any that come along. Heavenly Delusion seemed like it would break that unfortunate trend. This story takes place in a dystopian future where the civilization has been left in ruins. Mysteriously, a group of children has remained shielded from the desolation surrounding them nestled within an isolated facility, similar to a boarding school. Tokio, a young girl among them, threatens to disturb the tranquil life when she begins questioning the nature of their home.

Amidst Tokio's inner turmoil, a fellow student reveals that two ... individuals, one bearing a striking resemblance to her, will emerge from the outside to deliver them salvation. In a parallel narrative, we encounter Maru, a boy who is the spitting image of Tokio, traversing the desolated landscapes of Japan alongside Kiruko, his determined companion. Two-thirds of the anime's runtime follow their quests, intertwining two goals: Kiruko's relentless pursuit of both the elusive doctor who conducted an operation on her and the fabled paradise known as Heaven. A profound twist surfaces as Maru possesses an extraordinary ability: His touch becomes a lethal force against the man-eating monsters, grotesque creatures literally known as man-eaters.

Man-eaters manifest as enigmatic creatures with animalistic features, resembling ordinary animals but imbued with extraordinary abilities and characteristics. The designs of these monsters are captivating and unique, animated uncannily, showcasing an intriguing blend of aesthetics. While the anime provides limited insight into the origins and reasons for their existence, these formidable entities ruthlessly assault and consume human beings. Due to their resistance to conventional means.

The most engaging part of the show is seeing Maru and Kiruko traveling through the ruins of Tokyo. You get a sense of the fallen civilization. Their confrontations with man-eaters are both terrifying and thrilling. However, the fights should've been more strategizing on how they take down the monsters. Too often, it's just, let's figure out how the monster attacks, only for them to use brute force to kill it. In anime like this one, you can predict the heroes will come out on top; I wanted the HOW they win to be a little unpredictable. Regardless of the low stakes, the action choreography is fantastic! Production I.G. went all out with the sakuga. I don't know who they outsourced these scenes too, but they need them on more projects! The fight scenes are pretty brief because drama is the show's focus, but goddamn, they're a marvel to behold.

Before returning to Heavenly Delusion's positive aspects, I need to mention one problematic and pernicious part. Or, the "anime bullshit," as they call it. I was initially intrigued by the sci-fi transgender themes the anime introduces; however, as the show continued, it seemed only to be a vehicle for raunchy humor and fan service. There is nothing wrong with either of those, and the show balances the tone nicely. However, I was disappointed at the missed opportunity to develop its unique themes.

Kiruko was a fairly well developed character, and he had plenty of growth. However, it was incredibly uncomfortable how he felt attraction towards his sister, even kissing himself in the mirror, which shows his incestuous sexual interest. This scene and others (including one disturbing sexual assault) perpetuate a long-time transphobic belief. Speaking of incest, why the hell was Haru so attracted to Kiruko? Despite referring to her as his sister, he was blatantly in love with her—jumping at the opportunity to kiss and fondle her. One of the most controversial scenes of HBO's animated calamity "Velma" featured a character kissing someone going through a panic attack to wake her up. Maru does that same thing to Kiruko in this series, and none of you said a goddamn thing. It’s worth mentioning that neither episodes containing sensitive material, sexual assault or suicide, contained a forewarning.

Ok, my next gripe. I said there would only be one, but bear with me. As mentioned, about 25%-50% of the episodes occur in an orphanage-like compound where researchers and robots raise the kids. There are many characters in this side plot, but they lack personality or many distinguishable traits. There needed to be more character development, even for the central character Tokio. By the end of the season, these characters grew slightly, but even up until the open-ended finale they were merely reacting to their surrounds rather than playing an active role in their story. Most of the storyline is about the kids' relationships with one another, both romantic and sexual. Other than the rudimentary "loss of innocence" theme, I couldn't quite put my finger on the message or purpose. Though some have compared this plotline to The Promised Neverland, it has more in common with Darling in The Franxx, without silly sex mechas or bigotry.

The early parts of the story require A LOT of suspension of disbelief. Good luck! Some of the technology, contrived character choices, and medical miracles are very hard to take seriously. Some of the deaths were hilariously dumb. Not all of them were funny, some even heartfelt, but it's difficult not to roll your eyes at the absolute stupidity of some characters. From ignoring help from others to thinking it's a fantastic idea to wander into an empty space with a bloodthirsty monster alone. Occasionally, their I.Q. is on par with a baby. If they had the common sense of a doorknob, they could've avoided these tragic deaths… At least those characters provided unintentional humor amidst the chaos—too bad they were the punchline.

Heavely Delusion presents a dystopian world filled with potential and captivating elements. The animation and action sequences are genuinely thrilling, showcasing the skill and talent of the production team. However, the show needed to catch up in its writing. The missed opportunity to explore the thought-provoking transgender themes meaningfully is disappointing. The low stakes and uncomfortable scenes, including incestuous undertones, kept the lead characters from growing until the distressing last arc. Furthermore, the side plot in the compound lacked character development and failed to deliver a clear purpose. The overreliance on suspension of disbelief, uninteresting characters, and poorly written script lowered the overall enjoyment value. Despite some unintentional humor and moments of brilliance, Heavenly Delusion ultimately failed to reach its full potential.

The anime industry's default approach to beloved manga adaptations is to drain them dry of personality, rip their hearts out, and factory-produce them for a market that rewards quantity over quality. Blue Period comes out of the machine an uneven but worthwhile experience regardless of all this.

Yatora Yaguchi is a condescending high school student who prides himself on hard work, rather than relying on natural talent. At the very beginning, he sees a Picasso painting and says to himself smugly, "I could paint that." If you've never picked up a paintbrush, that's an understandable conclusion to reach. After all, people who are good at art ... are just talented, right? Blue Period strives to destroy this misconception at every chance it gets. The author wanted passionately to convey that art takes time, effort, and a strong work ethic. An unfortunate side effect of condensing a lengthy manga into a measly adaptation is cut content at the expense of this one crucial theme. Despite Blue Period's technical faults, and there are many, its character writing rises to the occasion. Like Yatora, each of their lives is well detailed: We know what motivates them, their concerns about getting into art school, how their family feels about their decisions and all of the turmoil that comes from pursuing their dreams. The show's most compelling theme is talent versus hard work.

In a show about art, there's not enough screentime devoted to the process of creating art. And for an anime about artists, it's about as creatively vacuous as manga adaptations come. Even the untrained eye will notice this anime's an eyesore at times. Nothing is captivating about the visual language. There are no inventive directing choices; every background is drab, unimaginative storyboards, and the editing is lifeless. The character designs aren't very detailed yet they're inconsistently animated. They move like stiff cardboard. The close-ups fail to convey the script's intense emotions because they're flat. Unmoving. Likely they copied shots directly from the source material without considering how color and animation would affect the scene's impact. Having never read the manga, I can only assume poor adaptation choices. The same can't be said for the background music, which isn't haphazardly edited at all. Taiko drums and piano work well here to give seemingly mundane moments an air of melancholy and anxiety.

Drab though it may appear, Blue Period's engrossing story creates tension very well. Yaguchi and his fellow aspiring artists hone their drawing skills in preparation for the competitive Tokyo Art Institute exam. Only a select few are accepted every year-you're never sure if the main characters will fail or succeed. They face constant negative emotions caused by stress, overwork, and self-doubt. Aside from training, the conflict the characters face and problems at home propel the drama and make it consistently engaging to watch.

Yaguchi is a flawed protagonist and a newcomer to art, which makes him the ideal focus for a show about chasing your dream. He said the wrong thing, praising someone when they are comparatively not impressive to other student artists. Yaguchi's mother disapproves of art school at home because his family has a tight budget. But she is supportive upon realizing the effort he puts into his work. His character arc consists of defying his deeply held belief that "People who are true to themselves can't survive." That's the harsh truth for artists, making a living doing what you love is no easy task. The person who originally drew him into the fantastical world of art, Yuka, plays a key role in his development.

Yuka nearly shares the role of the protagonist with Yaguchi-they also want to get into Tokyo Art University. They live with their grandmother, who has high hopes, and parents who disapprove of their lifestyle and choices. Yuka's gender is ambiguous, but they present femininely and don't want to be treated with masculine gender roles. Their gender is a significant detail incorporated into their backstory with sensitivity: they face bigotry, rejection, and insecurities that dig beneath their elegant and confident exterior. Although they hardly get time for character progression due to the disastrous pacing, they are one of the better characters in the show. Though Yuka is a sympathetic character, the show tries to have its cake and eat it too. Yaguchi constantly refers to them as a man with masculine pronouns and by their deadname, Ryuji. No one questions why he uses improper pronouns-the show blames other people in their life who reject their gender identity. We're told Yaguchi feels compassion for them, then his actions make him seem like an asshole. It's detrimental to his character development, and their relationship progression.

Pacing is the most irritating problem with this anime. Originating from the second episode, which rushes past necessary development: Yaguchi struggled to become a better artist, so we're told, but he simply became great in a series of time skips. Skipping his growth goes directly against the story's themes: not everyone has natural talent, and it takes hard work to achieve your aspirations. The studio responsible for this adaptation, Seven Arcs, selected specific story beats but skipped over what they deemed as less important. Rushing through Yaguchi's art training also leaves non-artists in the dark about his processes to create his drawings and paintings. This issue is persistent throughout most of the show. It's not until the last third of the season that we delve deeply into his step-by-step creative method. If the show had put as much emphasis on creating art as its character drama, it'd be great, but significantly longer than 12 episodes.

Blue Period makes a convincing argument for why you should read the manga-and that's ultimately the only reason this anime was made. It doesn't take advantage of the visual medium, but it's a watchable 7/10 anime that could've been a 9/10 anime. In spite of insurmountable odds, its stellar character writing, script, music, and themes make it a success. Shining through a thick layer of grime covering this diamond in the rough is a beautifully relatable story about passionate artists striving for their dreams.

Paripi Koumei is a treasure, and so is the star, Kongming: One of the most accomplished Chinese military strategists of history. Upon his death in 234 AD, he wished to be "Reborn in a more peaceful era," suddenly, he appears today on the streets of Hell (aka Tokyo) in his handmade Taoist robe with his iconic crane feather fan, amid a Halloween celebration! The bewildering party people, who he mistakes for Hell's minions, get him drunk and sweep him into a nightclub. His first real interaction is with an underdog singer Eiko in a nightclub. After discovering her unappreciated skill, he vows to ensure her ... success and becomes her millennia-old manager. Appearing like a full-time cosplayer, or a delusional history nerd, Eiko takes him in and accepts his help. Little did she know, his background prepared him to be the perfect manager! He instantly concocts 100 million IQ strategies to lure in audiences and keep them engaged, often deviously.

Kaede Hondo kills it as Eiko as she did as Sakura in Zombieland Saga. It's fair to say it does for Japanese hip-hop what Zombieland Saga did for idol music; breathe life into a genre drowning in unfabulous idol fodder. Along their winding road to success, the Eiko and Kongming meet other aspiring rappers and singers. The many other skilled singers rise to the occasion and fit their roles excellently. Everyone here is indispensable. You witness side-stories run side-by-side with Eiko's journey; each one develops gradually into nuanced and likable individuals. "Join us in realizing world peace via music" is one of Kongming's most iconic quotes; it symbolizes the teamwork dynamic the cast of characters radiates. Character development is naturally blended into the music performances, and every song left me wanting more.

Emotional lyrics during the improvised songs lend themselves well to flashbacks. Exposition dumps and tedious monologues are nowhere to be found here, only rhythm, sick beats, and organic storytelling. Neither the story nor the script feels forced; partly because the musicians gain skill over time with practice, none of them begin as unstoppable forces. Eiko starts with the task of finding her voice, and her companions must overcome past regrets and performance anxiety. Their struggles and hardships are portrayed believably; we see them grow over time, making for satisfying character arcs. This is similar to another recent manga adaptation centering on aspiring young artists, Blue Period. Both series, sappy as they may seem, focus on developing self-confidence and that no one is born with skill. It is learned. Though the themes are unoriginal, they're sincerely executed.

Senkuu is a scientist like Kongming is a strategist; they're geniuses capable of feats surpassing human capabilities. The logic surrounding his strategies is not exactly airtight, and that's OK because the anime doesn't take itself seriously, and neither should you. Ironically, Kongming's flaw is his ego. As Eiko becomes a performer, Kongming's new party life challenges his past arrogance. It successfully paints a memorable portrait of Kongming, a godlike being who embodies the essence of coolness that harem protagonists could only dream of possessing. He never misses an opportunity to hype his companions with inspiring speeches. The latter episodes lean more towards drama than comedy. Even though the show is at its least engaging when it plays it seriously, they construct such likable characters you can't help but want to see if they achieve their dreams.

What impressed me the most is how the thematic throughline challenges the status quo; the heroes confront the music industry's need for conformity. The antagonists are depicted as soulless corporate businessmen who value profit over integrity, treating musicians like tools to earn money. Our villains enforce the status quo, and our heroes fight it, adding a layer of depth to the conflict hanging over the show's dramatic final arc. The element of satire at play powerfully exposes how the Japanese music industry coerces artists to compromise their freedom of expression and morals to succeed in a market that values profit over creativity.

Mesmerizing performances are the anime's highlight: colorful, melodic, energetic, wonderfully excessive, and occasionally psychedelic. What easily sets Paripi Koumei apart from its contemporaries is PA Works fabulous production. It's been a long while since I've seen stage performances in anime animated with sound 2D art. Elaborate dance choreography is complicated because TV anime have budget and time limitations. Yet, they never resort to CGI and manage to maintain on-model character (Carole and Tuesday could never). You'd struggle to find a recent anime that pays more attention to details than Paripi Koumei, from the Chinese history lessons incorporated into the beginning of each episode to the little ways the credits change at the end.

Paripi Koumei is a winning combination of outstanding music, fabulous dynamic presentation, screwball comedy, and consistent character development, with a unique premise. On paper, it looked like it couldn’t make the magic last an entire season, but it went the distance and beat the odds. It would’ve been witty, endearing, stylish, and insightful even without the dazzling music, but the music is what makes it truly special.

The year is 5738, and the entire human population was petrified in stone three millennia ago. Three thousand years in the future, one kid awakens. He isn't your typical kid. He's Senku, and he's ten billion percent smarter than the average high school student. Now that civilization has regressed to the stone age, and the world needs a hero. Senku embarks on a journey to rebuild civilization with his knowledge of science.

First of all, if you are expecting a grand story about reconstructing the 21st century within twenty-four episodes, you will be disappointed. I initially assumed this would be a dystopian action-adventure—it's not; this is ... an edutainment comedy about science. I understand why this direction frustrated a lot of people. The trailers and promotional material were misleading. Unfortunately, this led to people harshly nitpicking it. It blows my mind that people have said the writing is shallow, without redeeming value and lacking focus. This series successfully uses an unreliable narrator; this gives it a sense of unpredictability. Anything can happen. It's exhilarating. I'm not going to pretend like this anime is perfect, but it's way better than some would lead you to believe.

In truth, this show is about Senku: The prideful genius who makes it his job to help everyone through science. Senku is overconfident to a fault. He prides himself on being ten billion percent logical, and he likes to think he'll always be right. Honestly, he makes his fair share of mistakes. He might be able to make a high-speed wagon in a couple of minutes, but don't expect it not to fall apart the first time he rides it. Seeing the show from his perspective is fantastic. He's not another overpowered blank-slate isekai protagonist who gets pushed through the story by coincidence. The story's direction is unpredictable because Senku is a force of nature. His encyclopedic knowledge of science is his main advantage. He's not invincible, he makes impactful decisions, and he makes mistakes. Much of the time, he has a utilitarian motive behind any of his kind actions. If he needs a lot of manpower, he baits villagers with ramen, with hard labor as their payment. It was always funny seeing the different ways he would trick people into doing what he wanted.

In this show, a life or death situation lies on whether or not Senku can create Coca-Cola from scratch. It does not attempt to hide how ridiculous it is. At the same time, it will also detail how to make cola with science. Once they have all parts of the latest science scheme working, we get a quick montage of it in action. He explains each scientific idea comprehensively before everyone begins working. It's all said in simple terms so the audience can follow along. I'll be honest; I don't know much about science. I slept through biology, chemistry, and physics. Somehow Dr. Stone got me to love science. Senyu taught me science can solve every problem. Like all good edutainment programs, the teachings are seamlessly weaved into the story.

The main characters are so likable—not just for their personalities and chemistry—because they have personal goals and senses of humor. The writers make sure to give each member of the science squad a considerate amount of development. For some of them, it's only a few minutes shoved in-between arcs, but their growth is visible throughout the rest of the show. I've said all I needed to say about Senku—he's the heart of the show. He has a subdued personality; even admitting he prefers not to show much emotion, but the show always subtly clues us in to how he's truly feeling. One of his pals, Kohaku, is entirely the opposite: She's a spirited girl who takes no shit.

On the other hand, his partner Chrome is another avid science fan, but he's more relatable because he isn't quite a super genius. He made a great deuteragonist, but I missed the original side characters Taiju and Yuzuihara. They're a pleasant enough duo even though they're only in a couple of episodes. I wish the story occasionally cut to their perspective. In the beginning, it's exciting watching Senku and Taiju trying to survive in the stone age. In a life or death situation, they revive the strongest man they can find, Tsukasa. With his revival, the antagonist enters the show. I've seen people criticize Tsukasa and say he's a weak villain, and I can't help but disagree. His goal for the stone world is to give everyone equal opportunity; no one will pay taxes; no one will own anything in simpler terms, libertarianism. To achieve his dream for the stone world, he endeavors to kill every petrified adult. He wants only to revive the strongest youth he can find, or the "pure-hearted youth," as he hypocritically calls them.

The first arc is an action-packed battle of wits, hunting for food, running from lions, creating the cure for humanity, friends reunite after thousands of years, the goddamn world ends. It's kind of epic. It's entirely unlike the bulk of the story, which is fine. It was an unexpected but welcome change of pace. I came for the exhilarating premise; I stayed for Senku and his band of goofy science trailblazers. When watching Dr. Stone weekly, my biggest problem was the slow pacing of the main plotlines. After rewatching the entire show, the progression didn't bother me as much. Even if it looks like the show forgot about your favorite character—don't worry—they'll be back.

Dr. Stone thoughtfully uses reincorporation in its narrative to hint at future plot points, new characters and foreshadow meaningful twists. In one of the early episodes, someone mentioned a specific electronic he missed from the old world; as Senku progresses science, he reflects on that conversation nostalgically and endeavors to make that same electronic. It seemed so insignificant at first, yet it became a central plot point later on. One of my favorite characters, Gen, the magician, is subtly mentioned in a book long before being introduced. Another clue sprinkled throughout is the modern pop culture references, which contrast with the archaic society. There's a pretty awesome in-story explanation for the villagers to use derivatives of modern Japanese. I have to give props to the writer for making someone from the stone age say "meme" without ruining the timeline.

These small victories might not seem like much on their own, but together it shows great foresight from the author. Senku's occasional unforeseen scientific solution comes to life satisfyingly—surprising both the audience and the other characters. Like any engaging twist, Senku's science is never contrived; every twist left me in awe. I could always look back and see the clues the writer creatively laid out. If the writer weren't just as brilliant as Senku, then he would not work. Thankfully, he is, and that's why Senku's a great protagonist. You could argue there's a lot of unexplained science in this series. I'd say it's not bad. There's no concrete explanation for the stone epidemic, and that's fine. I don't know science. I know stories. As long as the science stays consistent with its own internal logic, I think it has succeeded, and Dr. Stone does.

The humor is over-the-top but well-executed. It relies entirely on comedic timing and the presentation. Thankfully the editing in Dr. Stone is top-notch. Every part of the audiovisual production works in unison. The BGM, openings, and endings were all superb—this is the best soundtrack I've heard all year. Each background song is deftly synced up with scene transitions and set pieces. Jokes land with boisterous sound effects—absurd facial expressions pop-up on the screen, lined-up perfectly with the punchline. I understand why people have criticized the comedy for being idiotic. And they're right. All of these characters are either idiots or socially inept. If you don't like them, you'll hate the comedy aspects. The jokes mainly rely on the character chemistry and, fantastic directing aside, I think they have hilarious chemistry. Other than the stellar character artwork (warning: some of the female faces are borderline Lovecraftian horrors), the backgrounds are consistently beautiful. TMS Entertainment continues to provide great still art; however, the longer the show went on, the more animation hiccups I noticed.

Dr. Stone gets heavily scrutinized for its plot progression, pacing, and dumb characters. Some of the criticism is fair, but much of it underserved. I consider myself pretty critical, and I enjoyed this show way more than I thought I would. The amount of research put into the science blew me away. The way it entertained me while teaching me felt so nostalgic. I grew up on edutainment, like Bill Nye The Science Guy and Magic Schoolbus. This anime follows in their footsteps, but for an older audience. I never expected I would love these characters so much. I'm looking forward to their science shenanigans next season. It took humanity two million years to crawl out of the stone age to the modern era. Thankfully, it only took twenty-four weeks for people to realize Dr. Stone is a great anime.

After 25 years since the original Gridman TV series debuted in 1993, Studio Trigger and Tsuburaya Productions, the company behind Gridman and Ultraman, have collaborated to produce the magnificent tokusatsu inspired reboot SSSS.Gridman. For those who are new to Gridman and tokusatsu entertainment, it is the Japanese term attached to any sci-fi/fantasy live-action series that uses an abundance of special effects. More specifically, practical effects; think people wrestling in rubber monster suits smashing through model cities and stop motion animation.

That leads us to SSSS.Gridman, the love child of first-time director Akira Amemiya and Keiichi Hasegawa, famed screenwriter of the 1990s Ultraman. It is overflowing with ... references and callbacks to the live-action series, SSSS is a lovingly crafted modernized take on the original series. The new story takes a theme relevant to today’s audiences and focuses on the youth of Japan and their relationship to technology.

The show opens on Yuta Hibiki, an amnesiac first-year in high school who’s just woken up in the home of Rikka Takarada, a girl in his class. With no clue who she is, or who he is for that matter. His standard introduction no doubt had people rolling their eyes, including me, and it does detract from the story, at least until we learn why he lost his memory. Yuta sees hallucinations of a robot named Gridman in an old computer in Takarada's family store, later called ‘Junk’ in reference to its name in the original show. Afterward, he meets Sho Utsumi, his friend before getting amnesia. Sho helps him with his memory loss, which is more or less his role in the series, being Yuta's support. He's a decent character, with a minor arc and some development. Throughout the first episode, the information we’re being fed by the characters is incongruous with what we observe from Yuta’s perspective. Rikka and Utsumi easily accept Yuta’s amnesia and when he sees Kaiju looming in the distance they assume he’s joking because—like his Gridman hallucinations—he is the only one who can see them at first. In spite of the mundane reactions of people around Yuta, the directing of nearly every scene communicates dread. It constantly feels like danger is just off the frame and the next scene will change everything.

Amemiya lingers on long shots too long for them to feel normal, instead, they communicate anxiety, you constantly are waiting for something to happen that will break the mundanity. Lighting is oversaturated during the daytimes to convey the crushing heat of the summer, and at night is subdued with fog and the monsters are constantly shown looming in the distance over the heroes. In the first episode, a radio playing is placed in between scenes to shift the tone. It bears so much similarity to Neon Genesis Evangelion. It’s no surprise considering the director is a Gainax veteran. No doubt, SSSS.Gridman's greatest strength is the tone, it balances the mundane life of high school students with the dread of a Kaiju attack. Eventually, when the Kaiju do attack, it is equally satisfying to watch play out. The three main characters are together in Rikka’s family store when the first Kaiju begins wreaking havoc on the city, forcing Yuta to work with Gridman fight off the monsters in giant robot form. Together they create the Gridman Alliance, dedicated to defeating any Kaiju that threatens to destroy their city.

The animation is fluid, characters are incredibly expressive, storyboards are filled with detail, shots are excellently framed. The camera work is dynamic making the action always exciting and even the CGI used during many of the fight scenes is superb. The sound design is especially amazing at giving audio feedback during these scenes, a vehicle being crushed, the ground crumbling under a monster, and all of the attacks sound so visceral and lifelike. From time to time the show's incredible opening is used as background music in fights, and this would typically grow tiresome but because the song is so good and relevant to the story it never bothered me. At times the monster's movements look janky, but it never feels unintentional, watching old tokusatsu series shows that this is how the monster/giant robot fights looked, they move in ways that make it seem as though someone is inside a suit navigating them. 2D animation could never have achieved the authenticity of the monsters they were aiming for here. Not every scene is exploding with action, but even when the pace slows down, the directing and intruiging storyboarding are still visually arresting. One qualm I would bring up is the overabundance of fanservice placed at awkward moments, this thankfully only happened in certain episodes around the midpoint of the show. All around, this show is incredibly faithful to the original series, visually, audibly, and narratively.

The story is at times too standard to the genre and could have used more originality rather than reliance on the source material. It delivers it's story beats confidently and plenty self-aware of the nostalgia it's evoking, but the times it updates the script to a modern audience are worthwhile. Important information is shown to us rather than told, a characters motivation is never told to us before it is shown, a twist never comes that wasn’t foreshadowed heavily. This showing rather than telling comes across the most in Akane Shinjou's scenes, a classmate of Yuta’s. She offers the most exciting writing in the show. In the first episode alone, her scenes convey more fear than any of the Kaiju scenes. She’s subtle with her dark side and when she gets her quiet moments of angry reflection you get to see how bitter she is. Her psychotic tendencies and lack of care for others are made all the more frightening by how much power she proves to have.

Although Yuta's simplistic personality is explained very well in the narrative, Rikka and Akane get far more development than him. Eventually, they even take his place as the protagonists, and the show is much better for it. Rikka gets more development than Yuta and becomes a remarkably sympathetic character right away. While Yuta and Utsumi celebrate their victories against Kaiju she worries about the fallout of the city being attacked and if her friends are safe. She's the most nuanced character in the show, and it often feels like she is a normal person who was placed into the plot of a wild sci-fi kids show. Her apprehension towards conflict and her contemplation of the effects of what's occurring in the story are what makes her so believable. Yuta and Utsumi are at first, ecstatic to escape the mundane life of being a student, then the shock of the danger they’re in forces them to face reality and change their mindsets. Whereas Yuta accepts he has to overcome challenges at face value and follows through like a typical protagonist, Rikka is constantly questioning why she’s in such a dire situation and where her place is in all of it. Her development throughout the show is intertwined with Akane's and they both change in ways that are very engaging to watch play out.

The themes of Gridman are showcased throughout the story in the elaborate technology the villain has, all alone in her room, contrasted with the beat-up old computer the Gridman Alliance use. Yet even with basic technology, they prove to be formidable foes to the Kaiju, and they enjoy working together. What the screenwriter is trying to say is rather basic, but it’s nonetheless a well-reinforced theme and consistent throughout the show, you don’t need an abundance of technology to have good relationships and valued friendships.

SSSS.Gridman stands as one of the best mecha in recent memory. Stylistically it is much different than the rest of Studio Trigger's anime, but it is one of their greatest works yet. It wears its love for the original series and tokusatsu entertainment on its sleeve. The story is wonderfully nostalgic, and surprisingly enough, thought-provoking. Laden with subtle details building up to every twist, every theme, it is both visually interesting and endlessly analyzable. I look forward to rewatching it time and time again in the future.

Despite all the hate it rightfully received, I really enjoyed the first season of In Another World with My Smartphone. The English dub of the first season brought self-awareness to the characters, injecting humor into an otherwise insipid storyline. This season, that spark of life from the English voice actors is sorely absent. Everyone goes through the motions, counting the days until their paycheck arrives.

Season 2 is purely an abysmal descent into the depths of mediocrity, doubling down on the repulsive misogyny and complete lack of creativity of its predecessor. The episodes are a disgraceful showcase of women reduced to objects.

To start, ... we should get the animation out of the way—or should I say, the absence of it? Instead of breathing life into the action, they serve up mind-numbing still shots that make a snail’s pace look like a Formula 1 race. Who needs fluidity when you can have a slideshow of stagnant scenery? And the art? It’s a mishmash of confusion and chaos. Character designs morph into distorted monstrosities, mocking artistic coherence. You’ll play guess-the-character as they transform into unrecognizable blobs before your eyes.

But hold on, we can’t overlook the anime’s defining trait—the abominable off-model faces. When our forgettable protagonist Touya and his harem dare to look sideways or tilt their heads, brace yourself for a roller coaster ride of contorted faces. Their faces twist and warp into grotesque abominations giving the impression that the animators were overworked to exhaustion. As if character designs were inspired by a deranged dadaist.

The compositing is equally inept when the characters use their invisibility power. Instead of employing subtle visual cues to convey their appearance, the artists opted for a shockingly horrific eyesore. The resulting effect is a jarring combination of poor color grading, sloppy filters, and clashing layers. The characters appear hastily glued onto the scene, disregarding proper lighting or integration.

Now, let's summarize the story—equal parts mind-numbingly dull and painfully predictable. In this pitiful season, we witness Touya’s shameless pursuit of multiple engagements, and his harem of indistinguishable girls expands. The show stumbles through a series of contrived scenarios, presenting forgettable female characters solely to satisfy our protagonist’s romantic interests. Along the way, we witness coerced relationships, absurdly imbalanced power dynamics, and endless sexualization, all woven together in a quilt of tastelessness. The only time he rejects a girl is when a child flirts with him. Her father offers her hand in marriage, but Touya respectfully says, "Wait until I AM eighteen."

This season fails to rise above the misogyny cesspool established by its predecessors. It revels in reducing women to objects of desire, forsaking originality, and engaging storytelling. The abomination continues with episodes that range from cringe-worthy to appalling. We witness the main characters frolicking in a hot spring, girls non-consensually kissing Touya, and fanservice while dismissing any semblance of storytelling or character development. The plot introduces female slaves, miraculously transforming them into “employees” for our esteemed hero. What a good guy! And let’s not forget the fascination with Yaoi-themed books because nothing says respect for women like reducing them to fetish objects.

And what about humor? Prepare yourself for a tidal wave of juvenile jokes and stale innuendos, the sort that make middle schoolers laugh. The writer’s misguided comedy attempts only amplify the show’s overall pitiful quality and reinforce its grim treatment of women.

Political intrigue in Smartphone, or so it's meant to be, dissolves into a mishmash of forced engagements and the protagonist’s relentless pursuit of romantic conquests. The show’s obsession with accumulating wives and establishing kingdoms reaches nauseating heights. This reaffirms its status as a prime example of the harem genre at its most repugnant. The plot, if it can even be called that, lingers in a wasteland of predictability and worn-out tropes. The dialogue is contrived, lacking depth or meaningful exchanges. Instead, we’re subjected to endless vacuous relationships centered solely on gratifying the self-insert protagonist’s ego.

In Another World With My Smartphone’s second season is a seething pile of excrement. Its abhorrent misogyny, creative bankruptcy, and absence of character development make for a hilariously awful twelve episodes. Protect yourself from this animated accident and seek out a series that treats women with a modicum of respect, subverts stereotypes, and offers an engaging story worth your time.

The Dangers in My Heart is… uncomfortable, not due to its subject matter, but because of its effective satirization of the inherent creepiness often found in male-led romance anime. It cleverly critiques the recent wave of school rom-coms featuring generic boys who mystically attract conventionally attractive girls through exaggerated narratives and voyeuristic direction. Kyoutarou Ichikawa, the average male protagonist, embodies the creepiness to the extreme with his lurking, antisocial behavior, and disturbing thoughts. However, the series takes an unexpected turn by juxtaposing his unsettling tendencies with moments of genuine kindness.

These anime tend to follow men who narrate about their love interests while staring at ... them longingly, usually as the anime’s director ogles her leeringly. Is Kazuya a creep for staring at Chizuru and thinking about her? Yes, obviously. Kyoutarou Ichikawa the average male-led rom-com protagonist, with the creepiness cranked to eleven. He lurks in the dark library, avoids socializing, carries a box cutter at all times, and loves to ponder murdering his classmates. Oh yeah, he’s also five-foot-nothing and shatters at the slightest confrontation. Initially, I had assumed this would be your average “loner guy gets hot girlfriend because she sees he has a beautiful heart.” And it seemed that way, at first. Ichikawa’s private sanctum, the library, is threatened when his model classmate, Anna Yamada, comes to secretly snack in private. Rather than announcing himself, he hides a foot away from her behind a bookshelf, and narrates his frustration and murderous desire to the viewers. But seemingly, Ichikawa can’t help himself when she’s in need. Like when she’s crying, he kindly leaves her tissues, or readily defends her when she’s in trouble with teachers. It’s almost like the anime is attempting to make us overlook his stalker tendencies because he’s a nice guy™… except, she doesn’t actually need him. Everytime he attempts to help, it’s clear she’d be fine on her own, or has already solved the problem herself. What keeps this formula refreshing is how Ichikawa’s plans tend to fail in unpredictable ways.

Early on, Ichikawa witnesses a boy harassing Anna, as he is stalking her of course—but rather than step in to help, he throws his bike down a hill, landing it in a river, but effectively getting the attention of other students to draw away the harasser. Despite epicly failing to be suave, he helped Anna—at a major expense to himself. He’s not smooth in any way, but his sincerity is earnest. Watching the series blindly, I worried Ichikawa would successfully rescue Anna at every turn, and make her fall in love with him. A cliche, tried and true romance trope.

In fact, it’s the opposite. Ichikawa’s well-meaning failures and adorable awkwardness are what endear Anna to him. Their relationship slowly develops into friendship, hinting at something more, and the ball is always in Anna’s field. She has more power in their relationship, but not in an manipulative, abusive, Nagatoro-san kind of way. Considering she’s an athlete and like a foot taller than him, capable on her own. Other anime about generic cringe-worthy teenage boys who somehow attract the hottest girl in their life usually treat their heroines like objects of desire. They’re to be looked at, but entirely devoid of personality, conflict, and depth, Anna is the antithesis of them. The recent trend of male-led rom-com heroines may have flaws that make them ‘not like other girls’, such as sadism, inability to speak, teasing, but these supposed flaws fulfill a desire for some viewers. Anna is just a person—her idiosyncrasies aren’t attractive qualities, they simply make her unique.

Yamada does some funny things occasionally that made me laugh out loud. Such as pulling a pound of candy out of her pocket randomly and covering other magazines with her own at the store. Sometimes she’s a little ridiculously stupid. How don’t you question why a random dude is always hiding in the library behind you, or wonder why he just has a box cutter on him? However, her foolishness never exists to make Ichikawa appear smarter. They’re both dunces in their own ways. The perfect example of this is in a later episode when the two catch colds trying to care for one another; Ichikawa chases after Anna in the rain to return her forgotten belongings, then Anna visits his home after school, bringing him ice cream and showing her concern for his well-being. When Ichikawa passes out from a fever, Anna helps him and, in her genuine worry, cannot resist hugging him during his delirium. Unbeknownst to Ichikawa, Anna caught a cold from their heartfelt hug, highlighting her selfless and caring nature. Although I found it cute and accurate to his personality, his obliviousness to her affection may come off as frustrating for some viewers.

Ichikawa's insecurities and fear of rejection are vividly depicted, leading to his edgy behavior and rejection of Yamada's sincere care. In episode nine, Yamada's efforts to obtain Ichikawa's number go unnoticed until he realizes her intentions, but a series of misunderstandings further strains their relationship. Ichikawa's distorted belief that Yamada has been using him causes him to ignore her, until a heartfelt confrontation reveals Yamada's vulnerability and genuine affection. Their emotional connection deepens, as they begin to bridge the gap between Ichikawa's fears and Yamada's unwavering support, setting the stage for a potentially transformative chapter in their relationship. Notably, he sees Anna as above himself, however, it causes him insecurities rather than as a means to make her an ethereal, otherworldly being. The viewers see both of them as equals, mostly due to Anna’s abundant screen time in the latter half and hearing her inner monologue. Also there’s virtually no fan service. Even though Ichikawa is a normal, hormonal, teenage boy, the animators never sexualize Anna—and it PAINS ME to say this is refreshing.

The Dangers in My Heart anime seems uncomfortable at first, then the series takes an unexpected turn by juxtaposing Ichikawa’s unsettling tendencies with moments of genuine kindness. Anna Yamada, the center of his infatuation, proves to be a well-developed character with agency and depth, contrasting with the typical one-dimensional heroines in similar anime. Yamada's flaws make her unique, while her caring and selfless nature shine through, even as Ichikawa remains oblivious to her affection. Their relationship evolves into a friendship where Yamada holds the power, challenging the usual power dynamics seen in male-led rom-coms. The absence of objectification and fanservice in the anime is refreshing, emphasizing their equal footing and focusing on their personal growth. Despite its discomforting premise, The Dangers in My Heart subverts expectations and delivers a refreshing take on recent romance anime, highlighting the importance of genuine connection and mutual respect between characters.

One of the most impressive aspects of Dr. Stone is its ability to keep the premise fresh and captivating. New World takes a massive departure from the previous season, a war between kingdoms, and introduces us to an entirely new adventure: sailing to an unknown world, confronting new enemies, and unraveling the mystery behind the green petrification light. This refreshing change of pace demonstrates the anime’s flexibility and ensures that the story remains engaging.

The story of New World centers around Senkuu and his team’s journey to reach the source of the green light that petrified humanity. The season wastes no time, and the pacing is ... well-executed, maintaining a sense of urgency. As the episodes progress, the story takes us on an epic journey with Senkuu and his comrades. Episode by episode, we witness their determination to reach South America, the source of the petrification ray, and unravel the mysteries of the new world. The first episode sets the stage for their ambitious plan to construct an oil-powered ship, highlighting the importance of locating the Sagara Oil Field. The subsequent episodes delve into their challenges, such as finding resources for shipbuilding, developing farming techniques, and even searching for a professional chef to enhance their food production.

The story takes intriguing twists and turns, introducing the character of Amaryllis, an ambitious rebel from the new world, and Francois, Ryusui’s butler/chef, who adds a touch of sophistication to the group (as well as being the first LGBTQ+ character). As well as developing returning characters and giving lesser known names time to shine. The narrative seamlessly weaves scientific principles with creative problem-solving as Senkuu and his team invent new technologies, like the primitive camera and a radar/sonar system, to aid their mission. One fascinating revelation occurs in Episode 4 when the existence of Why-Man is debated, introducing the threat of a new enemy. This discovery adds depth and suspense to the storyline, prompting Senkuu to develop advanced technologies, including a cathode-ray tube television screen and a metal detector. These advancements aid their journey and showcase the brilliance of the scientific minds at work.

The characters face various barriers as the season progresses, from assembling a ship accurately to coordinating espionage into the new world’s elite. These challenges emphasize the importance of teamwork, which has and always has been Dr. Stone’s favorite theme. Each episode presents a new development that keeps you engaged and eager to see how Senkuu and the kingdom of science will overcome their current conflict. Dr. Stone balances its conflicts, serious scientific themes, and lighthearted humor. The characters’ quirks and comedic interactions are similar to SpongeBob (love it or hate it), adding an entertaining component to the series I adore. Despite their lovable goofball personalities, the characters remain dedicated and determined. If it wasn't clear enough by this season's funny Minecraft references (a record breaking amount for an anime?), this series knows it's target audience well.

Introducing a new island and its inhabitants in the latter episodes adds another layer of intrigue to the narrative. The encounter with Amaryllis and learning she has a long-standing plan to steal the petrification weapon raise the stakes for our heroes. The storyline delves into her motivations, the significance of her engagement, and her willingness to join forces with Senkuu’s group. Senkuu’s strategic thinking and the group’s resourcefulness come to the forefront as they devise plans to infiltrate the island, acquire the green light, and rescue the petrified people. Joining forces with a member of the oppressive island shows how the kingdom of science didn't come to overtake the new world, only to find answers. To address the criticism that this season promotes colonization and imperialism: that seems far-fetched. Dr. Stone: New World primarily focuses on the spirit of exploration, mirroring the experience of embarking on an adventure in a survival video game. It’s important to note that there is no exploitation in this context.

Dr. Stone: New World’s first part delivers an adventure story as captivating as ever with plenty of new scientific innovation, and entertaining character dynamics. Using remixed renditions of the previous soundtrack throughout the series adds familiarity and nostalgia. At the same time, the consistently catchy opening and ending theme songs contribute to the overall enjoyment value. Since it is an incomplete season, the ending of part 1 may leave you unsatisfied, so it may be advisable to catch up when part 2 airs. Fans of the first two seasons like me will be engrossed by these 11 episodes, eagerly following Senkuu and his allies as they navigate the challenges of un-petrifying the world.

As a fan of the first half of Wonder Egg Priority, I eagerly anticipated the special episode that was supposed to shed light on the confusing and incomplete ending of the original show. However, upon watching it, I was disappointed and perplexed. The special episode, spanning 46 minutes, failed to provide a satisfying resolution or explanation for the unresolved plotlines and character arcs from the original series.

The first 23 minutes of the special episode recap the entire show. This felt redundant and repetitive for people who had already seen the original episodes. While it could have been a helpful refresher for those who may not ... have watched the show before (you will be very lost if you start here), it added no new insights or clarifications to the confusing ending. Instead, the final 23 minutes of the special episode introduced more confusion and raised further questions, leaving me scratching my head.

The main characters spent the whole show trying to resurrect dead girls, fighting metaphorical monsters in their dreams. After they defeated the final boss, the dead girls never returned to life. In this special, they were resurrected in an alternate universe—none of that was explained, we have to assume that’s what happened. The dead girls who were resurrected lost all of their memories and the timeline reformed around the heroines never meeting them. Does this imply all of the main characters caused the deaths of the resurrected girls? We were left to assume that this is what happened, as no details or context were provided.

Moreover, the resurrected girls lost all of their memories, and the timeline reformed around the heroines never meeting them. This raised questions about the implications of the main characters' actions in causing the deaths of the resurrected girls, but no clear answers were provided. The lack of explanation and ambiguity surrounding this plot point is both frustrating and weirdly bewildering. Another unresolved plotline was the protagonist Ai Oto's relationship with her teacher, Mr. Sawaki. In the original series, Mr. Sawaki was implied to be a pedophile. In the final episode of the special, he was shown to be responsible for Ai's suicide in an alternate reality. However, the nature of Ai's feelings towards Mr. Sawaki and his actions in the special ending timeline remained unclear and unexplored. The show failed to address pedophilia and its consequences, leaving discomfort and unease.

Furthermore, Ai's friend's suicide, which was Ai's initial motivation for fighting the monsters and resurrecting the dead girls, was never addressed or explained in the special episode. This significant aspect of the story was brushed aside, and the show offered no meaningful insights or commentary on teenage suicide and mental illness. Instead, mental illness was reduced to a simplistic and dismissive explanation that "teenage girls just get depressed sometimes," which was both insensitive and inadequate. Two men literally say girls kill themselves because of emotion and men because of logic. Fuck off!

Additionally, the supporting characters in the special episode were barely addressed, with minimal development or progression. Neiru's revelation as a robot, Momoe's brief singing scene, and Rika's continued depression were mentioned briefly but left unexplored. Ai's decision to abandon her friends by symbolically throwing away her phone also lacked proper justification or explanation. This lack of depth and development for the supporting characters was disappointing and left their story arcs unresolved.

The special episode of Wonder Egg Priority failed to resolve or clarify the confusing and incomplete ending of the original series. The recap of the original episodes added no new insights, and the additional content in the special episode only raised more questions without answers. Pedophilia, teenage suicide, and mental illness were not adequately addressed in the show. The lack of explanation, unresolved plotlines, and ambiguous character arcs left me frustrated and disappointed.

"Constantly, I think to myself that I would like to be reborn…"
-Phosphophyllite

Do you ever wish you could change and transcend the limitations of your body? Phos' journey in Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni) is a compelling exploration of a person who desires to physically and mentally change themselves. Studio Orange's adaptation of Haruko Ichikawa's manga is unlike any anime you've ever seen. Stunning CGI, visceral yet graceful nature to which it portrays bodies, and a dense analysis of the human condition makes it unforgettable.

In the distant future, Earth has been ravaged by six meteors. The meteors broke off parts of the planet and ... formed six moons. Earth has been reduced to one single shore, and the rest of the planet is the ocean. This single shore is, while beautiful, has entirely infertile land. Only one organism populates the ground because they don't eat food. They photosynthesize. Evolved from the microorganisms that live in the ocean's depths, they became beautiful gems who reflect sunlight with every move they make. Creatures that live on one of the moons known as Lunarians travel down to Earth to capture the gems for their desires. The prettier gems being the most desirable. As long as the moon hangs above the characters' heads, there is a constant feeling of fear for their lives. In turn, this creates continuous suspense for us as viewers. We can never be sure if a character may be swept away or shattered into pieces (and no amount of perceived plot armor will stop them). We continuously see a full moon in the background with gems framed below its vastness as if it is preparing to encroach upon their temporary safety.

Land of the Lustrous tells the story of the youngest of the 28 gems, but they're all immortal. Our main character Phosphophyllite brought to life by Tomoyo Kurosawa's exquisite performance that can capture such a wide range of emotion and tone, is inherently relatable thanks to a lack of seriousness and plenty of recognizable mannerisms.

Phos ranks near the bottom of the "Mohs Scale" used in real life as well, which dictates how high or low a gemstone's hardness is on a scale of 1-10. If you're born with a low hardness in the society they live in, you have no choice but to take on a role suitable to you, but if you have a high hardness, you're expected to protect others in combat. And because they're immortal, positions are permanent. Unchanging. It's a roulette that's spun for the gems, spun for us all. It doesn't matter what body you get because you'll be stuck with it. It's up to you to decide what to make of the body you're given. However, Phos is so useless in their society that they fill no niche or role. Thanks to their upbeat and irreverent personality, they're able to live optimistically, if pointlessly. It's a stark image of the unmotivated youth, struggling to find direction or even motivation. An idea that I resonated with immediately. And more than likely, you'll appreciate the path Phos takes to better themself and help their fellow gem suffering from a similar struggle, Cinnabar.

In the beginning, Phos is descending into pointlessness (like an actual rock), berated by the other gems for lack of talent. They say things like "Are you good for anything?" and "You don't do anything at all." It's all played off for laughs, if a bit mean-spirited, but the truth is, Phos only has a 3.5, which is so low that they're not even allowed to fight. Phos would fall to pieces if they were shot by just one of the arrows the Lunarians use. Phos comes to hate the limitations of their body, regardless of how desirable the Lunarians find their peppermint green color. And other gems envy Phos for their alluring color, of course, without Phos fully understanding that they have qualities worth being jealous of. This is just one of the many ways the show incites introspection, saying that we all have some notable characteristics no matter who we are.

While Phos doesn't technically break themselves, throughout the show, they throw themselves into danger with the desire to be broken, hidden beneath their silly personality. Through being broken with intense physicality and repeatedly being put back together with a light but audibly satisfying sheen, Phos grows to become a new person from who they originally were. After all, if the gems lose a piece once broken, they lose an equally sized chunk of their memory. Occasionally, after a battle, one of them may forget the other's name, but in more severe cases, there are harsher consequences later on. In one of the most chilling moments of the show, Phos is beckoned to danger by an unseen force (assumably their desire) that says, "You must change." It's that scary feeling we all have at one point, and Land of the Lustrous delivers fear-inspiring moments like these now and then, but most of them come in the later episodes. These moments successfully connect the viewer to the central character and their turmoil by vivid fever-dream visualizations. Phos' journey is the central narrative throughline of the show, and thank god for that because seeing them grow and learn more about their world makes for a rewarding adventure. The main character isn't the only one suffering from inner turmoil. Every gem has some sort of anguish that torments them. Even Diamond, with a hardness of 10.0 who Phos idolizes, feels excellent envy for the slightly more challenging Bort. These subtle nuances to each character aren't shoved onto us either. They're minor details, subtly woven into the script so that the generally upbeat mood doesn't become melancholy. Still, it's enough for you to pick up on, so it will feel rewarding to see their progression in the background of Phos' story.

Make no mistake, this is not only a compelling journey through the main character's struggle against themself, or even about the three-dimensional supporting cast that serves as foils to Phos. It's about bodies—how you deserve to live in harmony with it rather than in spite of them.

Bodies are treated as sacred totems in Land of the Lustrous. They're quite literally artifacts that glisten in the sunlight. The gems are constantly framed with vast negative spaces highlighting how valuable their beauty and vibrant color is to the desolate world they grace by inhabiting. The director displays the gems in symmetrical shots as if they are the focal point of a work of art, hanging in a fine art museum. Even the more enigmatic supporting characters like Bort and Antarcticite are portrayed with beauty and elegance through their immaculate fighting style that each gem uses. The fighting choreography appears as graceful as a ballet dancer but has the visceral impact necessary for them to take on a fleet of eldritch creatures. The action is unlike anything you'll ever see. And it's brought to life amazingly with the most stunning CGI I have ever seen in a TV series. The previous works of the director Takahiko Kyogoku include another CGI oriented show (Love Live! School Idol Project), and it shows because he's improved on that show's animatronic dance numbers in just about every way. Action scenes are where the director shows us his best abilities, and they only get more impressive as the show progresses. The "camera" work during action scenes is so dynamic. The smooth camera motions coupled with the gems' fluid movements make for scenes that entirely devour your attention. Even during the scenes with less action, the gems are still quite vibrant. Their vividly colored crystal hair causes light to reflect off of them, always making the visuals eye-catching.

The respect that each gem's body is treated with makes it all the more distressing when they're shattered in combat. This, coupled with intense visual and audio feedback, makes the battles to be some of the most thrilling action I've ever witnessed. Even though the gems are immortal, there is still a fear for their lives. If they are broken and become immobile, then they will be trapped in their bodies forever. Endlessly. Arguably that is a fate worse than death. Even worse, the Lunarians may repurpose you into a weapon or jewelry (as seen in episode one).

The orchestral soundtrack backing most scenes maintains the mystifying tone of the show and is fantastic throughout. The music swells during combat, and during some scenes, it matches the instruments the Lunarians play when they come down to capture a gem. Sound effects are also incredibly satisfying on the ears; the sheen of a gem being put back together after a tough battle, the airy wisps of the cloudlike Lunarians, the clinking sound that can be heard as gems walk across the marble floor of their home. Lustrous is never harsh on the ears, yet it has an intense audible impact. Both the opening and ending credits are quite good. The ending Kirameku Hamabe shouldn't be understated. With awe-inspiring images of the moon, the poison metal alloy that flows around Cinnabar, and a few references to the later turns the story takes, the ending perfectly encapsulates the darker themes of the show. To contrast this, the song that supports the visuals evokes hope. Beyond just being an audio-visual wonder, Land of the Lustrous is an analytical masterpiece. The director brought excellent talent to the table, but the source manga by Haruko Ichikawa deserves credit for being rich with symbolism. Thankfully, this carries over into this compact but well-paced adaptation. Not a second of screentime is spared. When we're not delighted whimsical conversations, mesmerized by the visuals, terrified by the Lunarians, or sometimes all at once, we're being delivered the themes through visual imagery.

The thematic throughline in Lustrous follows the idea of change. The changing of one's self, the change that Phos and their fellow gems desire. As such, concepts like death and rebirth are showcased with symbolism. When are gems are broken, they're placed in black bags that strangely resemble body bags. It's as if they've died are being remade once the doctor puts them back together. This intrinsic connection the show shares with death explains why each gem wears a black tuxedo resembling funeral attire. As if they're mourning for the pieces of their comrades (and selves) that are lost in battle. The show is also doused in Buddhist imagery at nearly every corner. Whether it be the enigmatic "Sensei" that all of the gems respect and rules over them like a deity, the ritual-like behaviors and designs of the Lunarians, and the frequent references to rebirth. If you know about the Buddhist philosophy, you'll see the religion's goal is to relinquish the body that carries your soul so you can be liberated and proceed on to Nirvana. There's even a scene in which a particular character is supposedly reborn as a small animal to more suit the karma that they obtained in life. It can't get any more clear than that. Seeing all of these different concepts clash together with excellent visual quality and artistic direction makes for one of the most bewildering yet beautiful experiences ever. No details added to Lustrous were done, so without reason, everything is purposeful. Everything is necessary. It may have helped me learn about Buddhism in tandem with Lustrous' tv airing, but knowledge of these themes enriched my experience. Keep in mind, there are many interpretations with such an abstract and ambiguous story like this one, so you may find different meanings in the show from the ones I did.

Before closing, it's worth mentioning that this anime does not have a complete ending as the source material is still ongoing. Enough plotlines ended on a satisfying (if incomplete) note, and a few new ones were opened to give you a sense of the direction the next season will take. The story is not over, so I will be patiently awaiting the second season, but until then, I'll be happy to dig through the show's lore and alternate meanings as there is plenty of rewatch value.

Land of the Lustrous is, for the most part, a joyful adventure that may even inspire laughs, but let your guard down too long, and the Lunarians will steal away all you hold dear leaving you devastated. At its heart, it is a pure and simple story about how impossibly flawed we are as people. How we'll always search for means to become better, endlessly until we finally reach the end of the cycle. Whether or not this series has all of the answers, you'll want to listen to the tale it has to tell about the questions.