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Review in brief:

A numeric rating has no hope of encapsulating the original Evangelion experience. While it pulls off a striking character study with a bizarre presentation few other titles would so much as attempt, it comes at the cost of many basic elements some viewers consider vital to both animated works and stories in general. Carrying little about what you personally think of it, yet carrying greatly about what you think of yourself, it’s an abrasive personality best suited for a specific introspective partner.

Review in full:

Over 25 years after its airing, Neon Genesis Evangelion still has an enigmatic air to potential viewers. ... Some who have seen it herald it as anime’s ultimate masterpiece, others deride it as an incoherent mess, and people on both sides occasionally act like it’s all one giant meme. Perhaps if these people could stop arguing about it and its waifus long enough to just state its primary goal more often (to be a character study centered around the hedgehog’s dilemma), there would be less unnecessary confusion and vitriol surrounding the series’ first entry. Granted, the concept has more going for it than such a simple statement might suggest and there are other ideas at play, but that central notion would go a long way towards setting up what kind of anime this is; introspective to the extreme, perhaps to a fault depending on what you watch anime for, with much more than its colorful mechs becoming mere window dressing by the end of the TV series.

As for what NGE does focus on, we can start by looking at the main characters. Shinji Ikari needs no introduction; the timid, weak-willed teenage male lead is a staple of the medium. What makes him stand out is the authorial intent behind those traits. Thrust into a sequence of dire scenarios he has next to no control over despite seemingly being the only one with the power to avert catastrophe, Shinji’s ability to cope with his inner demons quickly becomes just as important as the alien war he is ensnared within. In this way, NGE functions as a critique of the “chosen one” trope, questioning the fairness, effectiveness, and other practical concerns in regards to the common hero story convention. Two other mech pilots, Rei & Asuka (as well as their field commander Misato) also follow this development path, though all with their own traits, problems, pacing, and results within the anime, all interlaced with the other leads. They are the living heart of the anime, with Hideaki Anno’s then-depressive mindset heavily but gradually poured into them. As these four characters push and pull each other along while the war rages on, an unorthodox yet complex character study surrounding their growing issues unfolds.

However, this “troubled development” process doesn’t pan out so well where less attention is given. There is only disappointment in watching Gendo Ikari get boiled down from a harsh yet mysterious enigma to just an obsessive sociopath when his cards are laid bare, and by the time the third character becomes some combination of sexually frustrated & scornful, the very notion has worn its welcome. At such points, the entry-level Freudian discourse NGE occasionally drops becomes especially grating, with the “every thought & instinct derives from wanting sex & death” viewpoint being no less laughable now than it was in the 1990’s. There are also some characters that have a hard time fitting into the plot as a whole. Fuyutsuki’s purpose as a character is lacking despite time being put into explaining his circumstances, and while Kaworu is intriguing, he shows up way too late to care about him as easily as the plot demands without a major attachment to Shinji.

That all said, characters belong to stories, as much as NGE wants otherwise. The story here starts off pretty good, with subtle worldbuilding in spite of the split between the sporadic mecha-based action and the constant interruptions to look closer at the characters. Disappointingly, it steadily drops off until the plot merely serves as a goofily predictable (and thus drably unimpactful due to how serious it takes itself) backdrop to the character study. The story's stakes are poorly utilized. Proclaiming that a plan has a 0.000000001% chance to work (an intentional Japanese wordplay pun, mind) quickly becomes code for "it'll work first try". When plot-relevant losses do occur, they're nearly always so mild that they’re spilled milk compared to the surrounding damages (decimated armies, fleets, cities, etc.) that are usually ignored, or were things that came & went so fast that they bear little impact. As the character study relies on story events to drive it forward, the tonal dissonance hampers its impact for anyone paying moderate attention to the plot.

Yet more bothersome for the story-focused viewer is where the plot’s very believability becomes questionable. Some characters are trained for years to be mech pilots, while Shinji was given cello lessons instead for no discernable reason. SEELE is at once portrayed as lording over NERV yet helplessly irrelevant, and their Dead Sea Scrolls may as well have been called the Author’s Convenience if not for the Abrahamic motif. Most damning is how the character-focused dilemma NGE wants to put at the center of its world could have been solved in just a handful of episodes if NERV, a massive global entity with the power to do such things as sequester an entire country’s electricity on a whim, had bothered to hire even a single psychiatrist to monitor the mental wellbeing of the teenage mech pilots it piles the fate of humanity upon. Are there possible reasons for these questionable points? Sure, in End of Evangelion, but the TV series prefers to ditch the plot entirely and end on a PowerPoint presentation about how brow-beating mentally afflicted people with repeated, pointed messages is good psychoanalysis. For the record, I recommend never trying this in real life.

Ultimately, NGE expects viewers to fully invest in its main characters yet also devest in the surrounding story to get the full experience. As much as people argue about whether the characters are good or bad, human or insane, et cetera, the real argument that happens in each viewers’ mind is which is more important: the story of how Shinji & Co. struggle to find their own worth, or the story of how shady organizations use bizarre mechs to fight more bizarre kaiju in their quest for “instrumentality”? One is given center stage to be memorably realized, while the other is swept off to the side and left jarringly incomplete. Despite NGE’s heights, it’s not unreasonable for viewers to expect competence in both, for if viewers aren’t quickly enraptured by the characters, there is plenty of plot confusion to push them away from such engagement.

Now, it is worth noting that this imbalance is at least partially due to what amounts to sabotage by committee, mostly in the form of broadcasters forcing retcons (both during production and the initial airing) hard enough to effectively change the story's concept by the end. However, there were also many deliberate choices made that hampered the anime's cohesion, including the addition of filler episodes despite the constraints and deciding halfway through the original airing to dabble in psychoanalysis in place of even attempting to finish the story (until End of Evangelion anyhow). The resulting incohesive maelstrom sees some people find ample enjoyment in dissecting the plot threads of NGE to try and form a coherent structure with enough mental duct tape, though others may be frustrated that this process is practically necessary to tie much of the overarching narrative together, especially without other media in the franchise.

No troubled production is complete without wild quirks in production quality. While not studio Gainax’s first or last instance of this, NGE is their most infamous. The visual display takes a similar path as the plot, with a standout first impression largely thanks to Yoshiyuki Sadamoto’s excellently thought-out designs that are appealingly peculiar without forgetting the little mundane details that make them whole. Tatsunoko Production was also brought in to perform heavy lifting on the action animation, and their efforts see Sadamoto’s creations weave and flow about as fittingly as they could have.

That said, action is not the main purpose of NGE, and there are also numerous static moments which only get more numerous and more static as the anime proceeds. In time, even moments where still frames make sense are drawn out laughably longer than they need to be, and by the end Sadamoto’s designs are so simplistically sketched that they aren’t just detached, they’re devoid of the character intricately tied into them. Some would argue that the later narrative’s esoteric reasons for taking the visuals in this direction fully justify it, but the average viewer cannot be blamed for finding that reasoning insufficient when taken to such an extreme. One common criticism that is overblown, however, is towards the manner in which Abrahamic symbolism is used throughout. While it is true that it was only chosen for “looking cool” and for Ultraman references, it does tie disparate plot elements together in a way that can help some viewers make more sense of them, so it’s hardly a fruitless endeavor.

The soundwork has its quirks too, though perhaps due to NGE’s character-centric nature they are more to its benefit. Not only is there exceptional SFX work and Japanese voicework, but this title is one of a lucky few that English speakers who prefer not to read their anime have more than one dub option to choose from. Most prefer the non-Netflix dub, but you’ll likely find at least one to be worth your time. The music has its odd choices too (looking at you, discount James Bond tension track) but there are an appreciable amount of memorable tracks as well, especially the iconic OP and ED pieces which fit this anime like a glove. Like everything else involving NGE, there are still those who find too much fault with some of the cheesier tracks and quieter scenes to see the praise as reasonable, but as an anime that seeks to provide emotive character moments the reasoning behind its more questionable sound decisions are probably the easiest to accept.

Verdict:

The ambition, passion, and pain that went into the Evangelion TV series are easy to see, but it’s all sentimentalities towards a project that bit off more that it so much as committed to chewing. While it's far from a pointless watch thanks to how well its main characters are realized, the later episodes resemble a proof of concept more than any sort of finalized product story and animation wise. Standalone, there’s little wonder as to how it became many of the things Hideaki Anno was trying to critique with it. Nevertheless, this anime has valid appeal for introspective viewers who seek complex characters above all else, and there’s still End of Evangelion to consider if one desires a somewhat more structured conclusion (or Gunbuster if one may prefer the general idea in brevity).

Review in brief:

The Frozen Bond struggles and ultimately fails to be anything more than unnecessary padding between two seasons of Re:Zero. Stretched out beyond any reasonable purpose and full of incomplete story elements, it does a better job of highlighting the problems some people have with Re:Zero than the enjoyable aspects that others would have surely hoped for here.

Review in full:

As a small part of a large story, Re:Zero was bound to leave a lot of questions open after its first season. This was something which ended up being a considerable problem for many viewers who would rather not wait multiple cours to ... see certain major characters fleshed out or important lore expanded upon, much less wait multiple years for a new animated season. Perhaps this led to undue expectations being placed upon The Frozen Bond, a prequel project which appeared to promise some backstory and answers surrounding two of Re:Zero’s more ambiguous characters. However, when it doesn’t appear to serve much more purpose than either that or padding between seasons, it becomes challenging to justify it as anything other than a hollow holdover.

Framed as an inner reflection Emilia has after the events of Memory Snow, The Frozen Bond centers around the relationship between herself and her guardian spirit Puck, and how it came to be that way for Emilia. One wouldn’t be blamed for thinking this would go on to expand Emilia’s character, yet it doesn’t so much as attempt to. The Frozen Bond is unquestionably about Emilia, and yet refuses to answer any real questions about her, and the main series had left many by this point. Despite spending a lot of time beating around the bush on the circumstances surrounding Emilia’s isolation in the Elior Forest, none of it offers any new perspective on who exactly Emilia is. This orbiting issue wouldn’t be so disappointing if it wasn’t the event the entire story revolves around and continually brings up to offer as an explanation for most of the story’s other events. By displaying so little character when given the spotlight for so long, Emilia only ends up appearing shallower.

The only other character to speak of is Puck, who does end up getting fleshed out over the course of this largely Emilia-centric story. The mystery surrounding him works much better not just because there’s some answers provided as payoff to the inevitable questions, but because of how much more dynamic Puck ends up being than anything else The Frozen Bond offers. His wit appears to be backed by experience, his motivations pondered over, and his side of the relationship with Emilia (unlike Emilia’s side which can be chalked up to pure circumstance) organically developed. Sadly, his role in all of this is treated as a secondary concern, often getting brushed aside and inevitably left much less complete than it could have been.

Instead, The Frozen Bond devotes much of the time it isn’t vaguely and fruitlessly hinting at Emilia’s backstory on attempting to make the antagonists look like actual characters. Chap is a one-dimensional thug whose ill-defined drive of “revenge” fails to justify why anger is his sole trait. Meanwhile, Melakuera is just a spirit automaton, yet there is an ample yet pointless attempt at making it seem to be more than that. It follows reasoning that falls apart with just a handful of questions and rules that Puck quickly dismantles the validity of (and yet it still follows them). Perhaps Melakuera exists to point to the unfairness of Emilia’s situation, but Chap already bumbled his way into proving that, as shallow as he is, long before Melakuera even became relevant.

The whole product suffers the effects of being stretched out much further than it had any right to be. The full extent of Emilia’s backstory that was covered could have been the side plot of a regular anime episode, yet it encompasses the majority of this feature-length entry. Chap & Melakuera’s situations add nothing substantial to the story as a whole either, and while more time could have been spent on Puck, that’s ultimately a separate story from the one being told here. Even the production quality takes a hit, with soundwork that (unusually for Re:Zero) struggles to even have one decent, memorable aspect, and visuals that slowly degrade from pretty, fluid, & clear to rough slideshows that can’t even bother to show (what would have been) the climatic final action scene. Why build up to it in the first place if the result is obvious and the production is too burnt out to do it justice anyhow? Unfortunately, it would only be fair to ask that of nearly every other element of The Frozen Bond, as none of it justifies itself any better.

Verdict:

Presented with an opportunity to address some of the fundamental problems of Re:Zero, Frozen Bond instead deepens them. Stretching this half-baked backstory to twice the length needed to tell it only serves to make its pointlessness more apparent, especially at the point of the main story it suggests itself to be relevant. Viewers who would level similar complaints towards season 1 are bound to be disappointed, and all but the most devoted of fans are unlikely to be amazed as well.

Review in brief:

Offering a nice comedic break after the more serious climax of Arc 2, Memory Snow is a well-timed lighthearted departure from Re:Zero’s first season. Some may take issue with its lack of impact or its goofy, fanservicey nature, but what it accomplishes is something the main anime could have used a bit more of in its later portions.

Review in full:

The story of Re:Zero is first and foremost a psychological thriller. Love it or hate it, the subgenre carries itself on overall serious tones and introspective queries into its setup, themes, and most of all its characters. That said, too much ... dreariness can get overwhelming if that’s all a story delivers, and one way to relieve the issue is with comedic breaks. Re:Zero already had a few in its original run (primarily in its first half as is typical) but the shift from the ultimately positive ending of Arc 2 into the darkest portion of season 1 was too drastic in the minds of some viewers.

Enter the Memory Snow side story. Originally premiered as a movie after season 1, sold as an OVA, and later aired on TV as a part of season 1’s director’s cut rebroadcast in 2020, there’s a good reason why it ended up becoming so prolific. Taking place in between arcs 2 and 3, it provides that much needed break with a light, comedy-oriented little story and some extra moments with many characters whose roles were mostly locked to Arc 2. Is it filler? Yes. Is it fanservicey? Fairly. While such terms often carry a negative connotation, they aren’t inherently bad traits. In this case, some lighthearted filler makes for an excellent buffer between serious portions, and that’s a sentiment that holds up if one were to watch it later than “intended” as well.

With a cleanly simple plot and a happy-go-lucky tone, Memory Snow delivers most of its humor by having the characters bounce off of each other in silly little interactions. This more character-oriented focus does some interesting things that the main anime struggles with, including adding little sprinkles of character definition via implied intent through their actions and putting them in situations where they can act looser (and therefore more honestly). The goofiness of the jokes and the ship-bait elements of some of the situations are not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but as what is essentially a collection of connected skits, Memory Snow manages to have a fair share of slice-of-life-esque fuzzy moments thanks to its simplicity and delicacy.

The production values of this solitary episode don’t particularly stand out from the rest of the season, which isn’t a bad thing either. There isn’t a lot of action to encourage grand animation scenes or tense moments to put dramatic music into, yet there are scattered spurts of visual creativity at play and plenty of opportunities happily taken by the vocal cast to act out the characters in ways they rarely got to during the main anime. Overall, it makes the whole package come off as something of a fun process for the production crew and not just some tacked-on cash grab in the wake of Re:Zero’s popularity.

Verdict:

Memory Snow is good filler, the sort that holds its own and makes you appreciate the rest of the story more. Unless you seriously hate the characters or Re:Zero’s humor in general, it fits right into its spot in the director’s cut (i.e. after episode 11 of the original broadcast), though one doesn't need to watch it at any particular point after Arc 2 to get the intended effect either.

Review in brief:

Do you like fun? Do you want to fill a few minutes of idle time with something charming? Then instead of this review, perhaps you should check out Pui Pui Molcar, a stop-motion surreal comedy with quite a lot of heart. You might just like it, and there’s hardly any risk in trying.

Review in full:

Whether you watch anime for quick entertainment or you’re on a quest for intricate detail through motion, Pui Pui Molcar is likely to surprise you with its fluid fluffiness, comedic wit, and genuine love & care for animation. Throughout its 2 minute, 40 second episodes, each filled with fresh ... ideas and nods to other works, it treats viewers of all ages with a look into a magically colorful world of vehicular guinea pigs. All things considered, its current obscurity outside of Japan is far stranger than its runaway success within it.

Now, the medium we called “anime” typically brings to mind 2D animation, often with the idea of much of it being done by hand and occasionally with 3D elements making up part (or less commonly, most) of the production. While stop-motion might seem like a meme category under that mindset, it is a legitimate form of animation and Pui Pui Molcar is an excellent example of it. Cotton is used to great effect not just to make everything look fluffy & cute, but also as a malleable material that forms the base of many special effects that almost look like CG. The animation on the whole is fluid & detailed, with lots of attention put into minor touches like having the molcars sniff & scuttle around like guinea pigs. While it all makes the static plastic models used for humans look a tad cheap, the anime is generally not just pleasant but amazing to watch, both frame by frame and in action. The soundwork is also well-made, with a lot of SFX sampled from actual guinea pigs and much more attention put into music clips than the long-templated work put into standard kids shows.

Pui Pui Molcar also features a solid amount of worldbuilding, especially for a comedy that’s shorter than two episodes of typical anime. Another facet of stop-motion that comes into play here and not in most anime is that the setting isn’t just drawn like everything else, but has to be constructed in real life with a 3D perspective in mind. Mostly taking place in an urban setting, this world clearly has its molcars in mind, with what constitutes a normal business storefront, house, or even public restroom reimagined for use by the furry little vehicles. The detail put into smaller elements is nothing to scoff at either, with a slew of fictional posters, franchises, and other such products scattered throughout as they are in actual cities, ubiquitous yet not quite overbearing. The narrative integrity of the setting gets put into question by a number of the goofier scenarios and it becomes hard for characters to stand out much from one another, but for a short gag comedy it more than does its job on those points.

While some people might be put off by the fact that this is first and foremost a children’s show, the humor is quite good for all ages. Pui Pui Molcar’s main approach to comedy is to juxtapose its cuteness with weird and bizarre circumstances. A clear knowledge of comedic timing went into this, so while not every joke is as intricate as the next and some jokes are tamer than others, it’s fun enough to at least chuckle at overall, with the occasional joke hitting home. Meanwhile, kids can easily laugh at the goofiness of the movie parodies and creative resolutions to mundane problems while adults can catch the references and appreciate how those mundane problems are clearly the creators venting out on issues most working adults can relate to, such as traffic and littering. Much of it gives off an experimental vibe, likely not just because of the wide variety of episodic topics ranging from simple driving to insane parody, but also due to this being made by a handful of young talents in an already niche medium. For some this may be a distracting takeaway, for others it may just add to the charm; it’s the sort of thing that heavily depends on the individual viewer.

Verdict:

Pui Pui Molcar is a refreshing surprise for stop-motion enthusiasts and casual comedy enjoyers alike. While I can’t guarantee its take on surreal comedy will be everyone’s cup of tea, it’s easily the most accessible show in the medium to come out in years. With its popularity in Japan and director Tomoki Misato recently heading a new stop-motion division at Wit Studio, there may be plenty more Pui Pui Molcar to come, so now’s the easiest time to take that worthwhile quick look.

Review in brief:

Oregairu’s long-awaited conclusion is hardly noteworthy, going out about as mildly as it could have without tripping over itself. For all Kan could have done with its well-established cast, it does little to even justify its 12-episode length. If you weren’t already a fan of Oregairu or rom-coms in general it’s nothing worth prioritizing.

Review in full:

I don’t suspect many people thought Oregairu would see an anime conclusion after season 2. It thematically closed itself off about as cleanly as was possible, the light novels stopped being translated in most languages, and studio feel. moved on to other projects. Perhaps ... it would have been better for things to remain that way, because other than structurally concluding the romance, this slow-paced season has very little going for it narratively (and said narrative was the main appeal for many fans in the first place). Kan was capable of bringing plenty to the table, but stuck way too hard to basic rom-com conventions and bungled its clear potential.

See, when it comes to character drama, Kan mostly maintains the prior framework of purposeful characterization and reactive development (or in simpler terms, the characters act pretty darn human). Kan’s new romantic focus benefits greatly from this, as it naturally allows the characters to display their thoughts and emotions when they matter most. Unfortunately, it also makes the stretched, uneventful plot that much more of a problem, as there aren’t enough new meaningful developments for many emotionally developing scenes to come forth. In foregoing the character-focused drama of the previous season to highlight the series’ main love triangle, the plot largely forgets about the characters themselves unless they happen to be a key part of the love triangle’s current development (and sometimes even if they are). There would have been little issue with filling the emptier portions of the season with events following other plot threads, and yet it almost never happened.

Instead, Kan decides that a combination of dragging its feet and reopening old plot threads is the ideal way to pace its story. We already know there’s a love triangle, yet the first three episodes are mainly dedicated to re-introducing it, its players, and its spectators. The likely result of that love triangle has also been quite obvious since the end of season 1, yet such a large amount of time is spent and ultimately wasted on building up a case for the other outcome that it just makes the idea look even more suspicious. There is still ample time left over even with all of this padding, but all Kan can think to do in the name of hammering that love triangle down is to recycle the plot structure of prior Service Club tasks under the guise of a different event and to repeat a conflict between Haruno & the main trio that was effectively resolved last season (and contradicts with the tone of this season). What’s that, there’s still two episodes’ worth of time? Dedicate it all to fanservice, what else could people possibly want?

While the previous season was a great thematic conclusion, it left much more than the love triangle open for further exploration, little of which Kan utilizes. Hayato and Haruno were heavily implied to have some unresolved, undesirable, and possibly related social issues, yet the entire potential subplot only sees the slightest sprinkling of loose implications brought up, and only when it ties back into the love triangle. Meanwhile, Yukino’s precarious and mysterious family situation was seemingly being reserved for most of the series, but it barely goes anywhere, even with her mother playing a key & direct role in the plot and her older sister’s frequent appearances. Heck, Yukino herself practically disappears for half of the season, despite events almost never failing to involve her. Even the series’ hallmark witty dialogues and monologues are spread thin thanks to that and Hachiman being strangely quiet in many important scenes, relegating much of the classic bantering to quick jokes and other trivial pursuits.

All of the above, in the name of giving Oregairu a fairly standard rom-com setup. In spite of everything good and bad it had and did, the romance is just kinda okay ~ mediocre for the most haphazard reasons. Oregairu’s standout cast isn’t any less wholesomely developed than it was earlier, so no matter who is on screen or how many characters are absent, there is going to be ample emotion on display, refined by prior developments and well-defined relationships. Typically this alone is all a good romance really needs, but the writing is at odds with such a result. As mentioned earlier, it focuses heavily on just one possible outcome, removing much of the dimensionality a love triangle naturally relies on, but even worse is that it also drops huge hints towards the real outcome throughout, making it look like a twist gone wrong for the unfortunately attentive.

Now, a more casual anime watcher (and I say that in a neutral way) may be wondering why all of this matters, perhaps why someone would want more than tugged heartstrings, silly humor, and raw emotion from a simple rom-com. The answer has more to do with Oregairu itself, as it drew in a lot of people with its thought-out wit and potential for incredibly deep theory-crafting. The simple fact of the matter is that Kan decides that these analyzers are not a primary audience anymore, as it offers far less of those qualities. Such viewers will easily see themselves spurned by this anime if they aren’t satisfied by some quick feels, something someone who doesn’t study their anime is much less likely to be concerned over.

Despite my earlier statement, this sentiment is further reinforced by Kan’s fanservice-heavy episodes, which manage to give the word a good name for once. In particular, the first and last episodes utilize goofy comedic escapades surprisingly well. The first episode uses its lightheartedness to cool down after starting right where Zoku left off, while the last episode provides an effective buffer for what could have otherwise been a whiplash ending. The light enjoyment of such fare isn’t what everyone wanted, but managing these more simplistic moments successfully is what keeps this season from being a truly bad outing in spite of the myriad of problems someone might see in it.

One last place this anime succeeds is in its production values. While not quite spectacular, it’s beyond what the average rom-com requires. The art style is similar to Zoku’s, but slightly looser, making the whole show less rigid when in motion at the small cost of a few odd shots. The color balancing is also more vibrant and consistent. Combined with some small but nice touches like improved framing and frequent parallax with a touch of character animation during panning shots, Kan is generally pleasing to the eyes. The audio work is quite good as well, with overall solid voicework, some nice callbacks to previous seasons in the soundtrack (even if individual tracks are difficult to recall), and memorable OP & ED songs (though their visuals are the least inspired of the series). Something that was greatly appreciated were the handful of flashback scenes to both seasons 1 & 2, all touched up or even redone to fit Kan’s production standards. While studio feel.’s writers and directors have drawn the ire of source material purists, few could argue the genuine care the artists & animators put into this project.

Verdict:

Calling this season “Climax!” is a misnomer, as the real climax came and went in the previous season. The slow burn to reach that point is mirrored by a slow cooldown here. Despite its shortcomings, Kan isn’t notably bad, other than the fact that there are plenty of other high school rom-coms that tell pretty much the same story at this level of quality without needing two seasons of build-up to lean on. Pre-conceived expectations are the biggest obstacle to enjoying Kan, but does that argument defend it when any other mediocre rom-com would scratch the same itch just as well? Your answer to that question is the answer to whether Kan is worth your time or not.

Review in brief:

Ghost in the Shell takes itself far too seriously, and in turn ends up spreading its considerable aesthetic focus thin across a soulless plot and a theme that it can’t wrap its own head around. With a self-imposed split between its story & its presentation made worse by its frayed structure, it’s not hard to figure out why it’s known more for being complicated than compelling.

Review in full:

Ghost in the Shell loudly presents itself as serious, deep, and thought-provoking. While it’s clear that many of the people involved possessed the skills to match this appearance, the direction mixes its quality elements ... into the anime equivalent of a pretentious college student; the sort of person who tries to one-up the professor by constantly attempting to disprove the class lectures or thinks they've unlocked the world's greatest secret because they've recently become an atheist. Such a person isn’t necessarily bad or lacking in constructive traits, but they tend to believe their oft-basic qualities have a far higher value than most other people would and come off as annoying or shallow because of it.

That is the way Ghost in the Shell acts in its execution, time and time again. It features a number of skillfully choreographed action sequences and needlessly draws them out to show off its animation. It contains expertly crafted & stylized visual and audio design but dumps most of it into lethargic montages that not only render much of the rest of the movie quiet, barren, and full of dry exposition (especially in the later half) but also could be cut by 95% and still deliver their meaning. It has the bright idea to flesh out its world through character interactions but in a world that is effectively just Hong Kong with robots and characters that may as well be robots themselves (the "twist" could have been that every human was actually a soulless robot the whole time and I would have been 100% unsurprised). It has the basic elements of a thrilling conspiracy drama but squanders it by diving into monologue after monologue centered around unrelated minutia, crowding out all of the room the narrative would need to flesh out such a story properly.

The driving purpose behind all of this is to explore transhumanism, and how it does so is a large part of why it falls apart. Transhumanism isn’t a difficult concept to understand, and so it’s not hard to explore in depth. Ghost in the Shell rarely seeks this depth however, instead straining itself over the base concept of what it means to put a person in a machine. Yes, that’s what the title refers to and no, there isn’t much to it here past “ghost = mind, shell = body” besides repetitious ponderings and shallow monologues on questions that don’t actually have to do with transhumanism, as if prefacing them with the concept was all that was required.

In fact, there’s a multitude of concepts tacked onto the already bloated discourse that this movie struggles to understand. It heavily ties individuality to having an observably unique face (whelp, guess identical twins aren’t individuals then!), postulates that people can’t prove their humanity without physically observing their own brains (so is trepanning back in style?), and drones about the importance of reproduction & evolution shortly after making a show of a depiction of the tree of life (i.e. a representation of reproduction & evolution) getting defaced with bullet holes in a robot vs. human fight.

Saying all of this doesn’t justify the frustration this movie imbued in me, because the real frustration was getting such a vapid experience from something with clear potential. Yes, this movie does feature some top-notch 90’s animation, and in the few moments it’s used to show the story it does so very impressively. Were those moments not so few, they would have stood out more against the dull & static imagery that dominates the film. The sound is at a more consistent quality, with voicework that does everything it could have to bring life to the movie and a standout soundtrack whose only weakness is its limited quantity. The effects work is often mismanaged, but in the handful of moments when it all comes together (most notably, the Making of Cyborg sequence early in the film), the aspiration that went into the production is made readily apparent.

The story, when not totally buried under overbearing thematics, at least shows itself to be a respectable idea. It has a conspiracy drama angle that is intriguing on its own and would have been an acceptable element for the movie to lean on if it wasn’t pushed to the side for much of the movie’s first half and unceremoniously uprooted & unveiled shortly after. There are implications of an interesting origin for many of the major characters that would have done wonders to flesh them out if tapped into beyond Batou bluntly exclaiming “The Major and I go way back!” late in the film. The two real criminal investigations that go on are rather well thought out from a structural standpoint, even if given less focus than they deserved.

All in all, Ghost in the Shell has many good qualities but thinks far too highly of a handful of its traits and uses them in such a masturbatory way that it detracts from the experience as a whole. There's a reason the term "creative limitation" exists, and this movie exemplifies the opposite to a startling degree. Putting less work into the nigh-pointless montages would likely lead to condensing them rather than drawing them out. Doing the same with the action scenes and quickening them would create a bigger rush when there is action. Accepting that the movie's world and theme are rather basic would allow the narrative to lessen the focus on minutia around them. From there it could display the world in the background and allow the character interactions to instead develop the characters themselves. Most importantly, if this movie didn’t hold the definition of transhumanism as sacred and explored where the concept leads better, perhaps it would have had more to do with itself on the whole than style, robots, and a naked cyborg woman beating up villains.

Verdict:

A brooding film that wants to be deep and thought-provoking but has a drive so shallow and a progression so slow that the only thing it manages to do is drag itself to the next overly drawn-out action sequence every half hour or so. It had everything it needed to be compelling, yet squandered it all so thoroughly it’s like it was directed by robots as a facsimile of human pondering. Fitting, sure, but not fulfilling in its inert execution.

Review in brief:

Oregairu shifts gears in its second season, changing its primary focus from tropey comedy to the unexpectedly thoughtful character drama that was slow cooking in the background. With a clear purpose and a heartful drive towards it, a true step in the lives of its characters is taken. It concludes on its own terms in a manner that is thematically resonant yet still open plot-wise.

Review in full:

In season 1, Oregairu was a decidedly standard high-school rom-com. Its underlying quirks were enough to maintain an audience, but there were only a few standout moments to point to. In that regard, ... season 2 (Zoku) may as well be a completely different anime. It turns just about everything season 1 had on its head, from the balance of rom to com to the art style. It’s exactly what Oregairu needed at this part of its story.

Hachiman Hikigaya is largely the same person at the start of Zoku, but he has come to know himself better. Through his obligatory participation in the Service Club, he’s attained a stronger grasp on just what holds the ungenuine high-school society he’s surrounded by together, and has realized that he has a knack for fixing people’s problems within it… by ruthlessly attacking it. The sense of duty he’s made for himself in turn fuels the sense of purpose Zoku immediately puts at the heart of the story. As Hachiman plunges his unorthodox weapon deeper into the roots of the social circles he’s found himself cast into, the rippling effect it has on those who have drawn him closer to them brings out a rich character drama that had barely been poked at before, but was clearly a goal for the story from its conception.

Oregairu features a decent-sized cast, who up until this point were largely used to check off the list of tropes this type of story often has. Zoku gets to work rectifying that from the get-go, flipping a tropefest of a cast into characters with reasons behind their actions, secrets & goals behind their masks, and far more meaningful traits than the tropes they were first shown with. It helps that the comedy stops focusing so heavily on tropes and takes on a situational approach that encourages more natural interactions. Not only do characters previously hinted at having depth display it far more openly (such as Hayato and his own web of relations he’s found himself tangled in) but even characters who were little more than joke fodder beforehand are brought up to the same level (like Ebina who has a lot more going on with her now than shipping her guy friends).

Those two aren’t suddenly elevated to main characters either. Sure, they get their time in the spotlight, but it’s just the right amount to flesh them out to the degree a side character needs to play their role well. There are a few minor characters that largely fall by the wayside, but it’s a price well worth paying for what Zoku delivers with the characters it allows to flourish. The one odd note in the chord is the sudden addition of Iroha. She’s no less of an appreciable character than the others, but the way she’s inserted into the story and the quite political situations revolving around her make it hard not to think that she’s a version 2.0 of Sagami from season 1, that the author ended up unable to utilize Sagami in the story after her last appearance and just cut the character out. With Sagami’s experiences the character that is now Iroha would have been even more impactful.

The journey the characters go on in Zoku is largely thematic in nature, partially owing to it not reaching the series’ true endpoint, but also due to how much it puts into characterization. The Service Club members are faced not just with more difficult situations but answers they don’t like or want to accept. Virtues they had codified for themselves are put to the test, and even Hachiman has sleepless nights over what exactly he meant to achieve in all of this. For the most part the main cast slowly grow around the situations that elevate the side cast in quick succession, rather than their own underlying problems. Their story is effectively in the background for most of the anime.

In lighter episodes such as the initial Christmas event committee meetings it can progress a little too slowly as it gets caught in drier minutia, but these moments don't last for long. The wholesome result of this is that Oregairu is no longer just a rom-com, with its strong character drama encapsulating the rom-com and letting it grow. It doesn’t conclude in this season and a few loose ends like the continuing mystery behind Yukino's family situation and Hayato's precarious social position still linger, but its thematic closure is more than solid as the main characters come to terms with their main dilemmas.

Even the production values behind Zoku display growth. Studio feel. brought in a fresh director and swapped out much of the key animation staff, and it shows. The colorful but quick & dirty art style of season 1 is replaced with a much more consistent approach that is not only utilized better but also reflects the tonal shift Zoku undergoes better than anything easily imaginable with the old style. The characters look more worn out by default, and the stronger auras successfully give an impression that the rose-tinted glasses are coming off for much of the cast. That said, it’s the smallest improvement as the animation isn’t much to write about (it’s quite telling when the most impressive animation belongs to a minor character talking with his hands) and the auras come on too strong at times (sunset scenes made me think I forgot to turn off the blue light filter, and nighttime scenes made me wonder if it broke and starting making everything bluer). The soundwork is just a little more consistent as well. The music is rarely memorable but never sticks out for the wrong reasons, and the seiyuu involved got more into their characters overall, but some of them were already there. However, it’s all consistent enough to do its job, and after season 1’s unimpressive display it’s all the more appreciable.

Verdict:

Zoku takes Oregairu in the direction it needed to go in the first place, and it has the consistency needed to stick the difficult landing. The trek there is a tad bumpy and not every little issue is addressed, but as a whole it proves this story to be a slow burner that's worth the wait.

Review in brief:

Oregairu opens with a season that is more com than rom and not to its benefit. Its decision to dive head-first into the realm of high-school rom-com tropes, combined with a strangely poor performance from Brain’s Base, leaves little more than what’s expected from this oversaturated genre. While not wholly uninspiring or lacking in potential, it does little to stand out across most of these initial 13 episodes.

Review in full:

The high-school romantic comedy is a staple of early 21st century Japanese storytelling, commonly offering a rose-tinted look at the emotional struggles of everyday teenagers. It’s something that the protagonist of ... this particular rom-com, Hachiman Hikigaya, wants absolutely no part of. With an embarrassing middle school experience he’d rather not repeat and a recent incident cementing his disdain for society at large, he strives to live a life of solitude, away from the petty deceit surrounding him. However, fate (and more specifically his guidance counselor) has other plans for him.

Hachiman’s youth romantic comedy starts out largely as expected, with him getting roped into a club that goes against his current mindset (in this case, a consultant-like “Service Club”) along with the school’s resident ice queen, Yukino Yukinoshita, where they frequently deal with problems for a host of tropey classmates & potential love interests. It doesn’t take long for the outgoing Yui Yuigahama to enter the mix and make the foundations of a classic love triangle. The catch with this otherwise default setup is that Hachiman isn’t about to give up on his loner ideals for a quick waifu and will fight tooth and nail to stay on the path he thinks is right.

With a decently sized cast to establish and a rom-com core, perhaps it’s understandable that this season largely focuses on comedic hijinks rather than the relationship drama that the main man is actively fighting to avoid. Brazenly, it does this by making fun of the stereotypical rom-com it opens as. In utilizing characters that follow obvious tropes, it needs to allow them to develop to avoid falling into the old parody-trap of becoming what it's making fun of. Most of the characters have quirks that would allow them to break free of their trope-definitions, but rarely do they get the focus needed to do so.

Let’s look closer at Yukino as an example. On the surface she’s a fairly standard kuudere, but there’s quite a lot to unpack underneath that, including a secretive family situation, a past she’s trying not to let define her, and a sense of what one may call “duty” twisted against the world (not unlike Hachiman’s beliefs on society). With those details and more, there’s plenty of potential dramatic development for her character. The drama we get involving her is easily gripping, with even minute details like her standpoint on truth paving the way for heavy interrelational situations to blossom out of Hachiman’s evolving perspective of it, but little of it translates into comedic potential. When it comes to jokes she’s aloof and deadpan like any kuudere, and Hachiman already has the deadpan part more than covered.

This reflects how nearly every character’s comedic potential gets cut short, even when they have dramatic strength. Yui’s genuine concerns for her peers and the effort she takes to alleviate them are touching, but her encouragement just lumps together with whatever other optimistic oddball shares the scene with her. Miura & Tobe’s obnoxiously nosy yet often fairly innocent antics are often undercut by Hayato and his strong desire to play the nice guy and maintain peace among his peers. Saika is a dedicated & helpful person who constantly appears just to be fujo bait, and Ebina is just a massive fujoshi.

Even Hachiman, who gets enough introspective focus to be among the most developed in the cast, mostly just follows the jaded introvert comedic tropes. His snark, which intentionally stems from a rotten worldview and is used effectively to create drama, unintentionally rots the quality of jokes centered around him for anyone who isn't projecting themselves into the story through him (and you will struggle to do so if you’ve never been a loner yourself). His lonely resentment for the lies of the social world builds up his tragic sense of justice, but attempted jokes revolving around it are just saddening. The extremes that Hachiman is willing to take his convictions are hardly ever funny, despite not being unentertaining, because they are tailored to fit his dramatic escapades.

When this season goes for drama, it usually works well since the characters are intentionally written around their tropes. With a story that embraces the idea of things being more than what meets the eye, this is where the characters’ deeper aspects get the focus they need to shine, and they’re often arranged within the plot in a way that allows them to develop easily and quickly (they have reasons for being the way they are, after all). The dialogue as a whole is well paced and at least moves along at a brisk rate that avoids stagnation. That said, it's mostly carried by Hachiman’s pithy inner monologues which, as usual, are more geared towards the anime’s sporadic drama rather than the abundant trope-based comedy.

Part of the issue may lie in, of all things, copyright; apparently the source novels are heavy on referential humor. That would have provided an additional angle to bounce the comedy off of, and that’s what it needed most. Unfortunately, it was likely too much of a headache for Brain’s Base to work with. Not to sidetrack, but it reminds me of Watamote’s anime, which constantly employed bleeps to avoid naming IPs and even spent half of a conversation to maintain a single Madoka☆Magica reference. Oregairu’s pace would’ve slowed to a crawl under such constrictions.

Despite Brain’s Base’s solid reputation when they adapted this season, the production quality struggles to make something of itself, rarely breaking above mediocre where it matters least and often ending up far below that. The animation direction in particular is an example of how not to allocate resources. Sometimes the animation is nice in places where corners are usually cut, with the occasional conversation being spiced up with a flashy motion or pose, but a lackluster frame-by-frame approach comes up far more often, including places where it has no right to (such as this tennis match -> https://i.imgur.com/xMqs9rG.gif). While the visual style and character designs are appealing at their best, the slapdash picture quality is sloppy enough to butcher it all more often that highlight it. Important developments often end up told instead of shown because the visuals can't cut the mustard with anything more intensive than small talk.

The music is mediocre on the whole, while the SFX is nothing special and the voicework mostly follows the tropes of the characters, sometimes to a grating degree. There are a few characters who receive nuanced voicework though, and those few characters stand out because of how much the underlying social cues in their voices imply about where their quirks lead, even if the rest of the presentation does little to touch upon them. Presentation-wise, the OP is the best part of the season, which balances out the boringly standard yet strangely unfitting EDs. Had this season’s overall production standards been more consistent, perhaps they could have made this season’s highlights matter more than its duller moments, but the unfocused presentation instead achieves the opposite.

Verdict:

In deciding that it wants to parody rom-coms, Oregairu initially overestimates itself and begins as the type of tropey, romantic slice-of-life it derides. If it hadn't tried that, it could have easily begun as a fairly good rom-com on its own merits. The writing is deft enough to make it flow well and the dramatic moments display potential, but neither the plot nor the production values thus far bring enough to the table to take full advantage of them.

On Continuing to Season 2 ~ A Side Note:

With season 1 out of the way, I must say with considerable frustration that it doesn’t represent what Oregairu becomes in season 2. The unfortunate thing about this first season is that it stops just before the plot truly picks up and characters fully develop beyond their templates. I ended up checking out the second season shortly after finishing this one and it quickly begins to bring forward a purpose behind the tropey nature of the story beyond the typical comedy on display here (and with a cleaner presentation to boot). However, there’s virtually no indication that things would turn out that way within these first 13 episodes. Oregairu is a slow burner in an unfortunate manner.

With that in mind, if you’re on the fence about continuing to season 2 I can only recommend doing so if you found my fence-pole of a review to either be fair or too harsh compared to your own stance. Oregairu gets better and shifts its tone, but it also stays true to the core theme the author started with here, bumpy progression aside. If that core theme doesn’t interest you or you find the tropeyness of this season to be overbearing, you likely won’t see Oregairu’s later improvements as enough to make it worthwhile. I don’t mind the tropes; I just want them to be used effectively. I saw the potential for it to reach that point buried under the largely trite comedy and was satisfied as said comedy became both less frequent and less trite. If the tropes themselves bother you, the later tonal shifts won’t matter to you, because building something meaningful out of old tropes was, authorially speaking, the point of Oregairu all along.

Review in brief:

Re:Zero’s introspective premise and colorful yet dark appearance set the stage for an interesting take on isekai and the craze surrounding it. If it didn’t collapse in on itself halfway through it may have even been good. It’s sad to say, but sloppy writing, unfocused characterization, and a haphazard plot structure cripples this first season for anyone who cares for the quality of such things.

Review in full:

Chances are if you know what anime is, you know what isekai is. Ever since Sword Art Online popularized the concept (even if whether SAO is really an isekai or not is debatable), Japanese media quickly found ... itself drowning in a torrent of escapist fantasies about loners, NEETs, and otaku suddenly becoming demigods after being whisked away to a rainbow-colored fantasy land. In the midst of this isekai wave, Re:Zero came out and asked “but what would really happen if some random loser was brought to a world beyond their wildest dreams?” The fact that it so much as appeared to deconstruct (yes, this mattered back then) the stale default isekai setup made it destined to receive considerable attention.

To be fair, Subaru Natsuki could have had it worse. He has a positive demeanor, a basic grasp of martial arts, some real-world trinkets he can pawn for far beyond their true value, and the plot convenience that the fantasy world’s language, though written in a fantasy script that renders him illiterate, is spoken exactly like modern Japanese. Still, he has to deal with a society he doesn’t understand with no reliable connections, and his social skills & intellect are quite lacking. Where power-fantasy isekai often lazily solve this issue by barfing out some unearned superpowers onto the protagonist, Subaru discovers through a string of unfortunate events that he possesses a mysterious curse-like ability he calls Return by Death, something the world may as well not know the existence of, forcing him to learn as he goes. The more he learns, the darker the implications surrounding why he has this power get.

It doesn’t take him long to meet Emilia, a silver-haired half-elf girl whom he falls in love with at first sight. With nothing to his name, he makes helping her his purpose for being in this world. Unlike his cliché overpowered isekai MC contemporaries, even this simple-sounding goal quickly pushes him to his limits, because Emilia isn’t just visiting Lugnica to pick up some groceries and Subaru is in for a rude awakening when things take a violent turn. He doesn’t know what it means for Emilia to be a “candidate”, or the implications her being a half-elf carries, and the danger that comes with not knowing those things among countless other pieces of information is what creates the hook in this otherwise bog-standard & somewhat clunky setup.

Subaru is the essence Re:Zero lives by. Following this clueless, impulsive idiot as he struggles to accomplish things most protagonists can work through without breaking a sweat lends the anime a “take the viewer along for the ride” style of presentation. This works because neither he nor the viewer can easily tell what the full picture is. While it mostly ends up getting used for quick thrills and the occasional cut to other characters for exposition does occur, the time spent following hapless Subaru and learning alongside him turns what could have been a slog where the viewer waits multiple episodes for the obvious solution to be implemented into a legitimate mystery and a quirky sort of underdog story.

Before long, Re:Zero is less about the intrigue surrounding Emilia’s situation and more about Subaru finding and refining his place in this new world. Soon enough, he has met a sizable secondary cast, with the way they bounce off of Subaru adding a refreshing comedic layer to the more serious dilemmas that Subaru faces, even if many of them are initially quite basic or tropey. That proves to be a quickly addressed issue, with a selection of these side characters woven into the main plot through a temporary spotlight, making the mini-climax that follows shortly thereafter resonate stronger than it would have otherwise.

The trials-by-fire where Subaru learns about trust, resolve, and responsibility in the second arc are the sincerest portions of the whole season. While the people he grows to care about have few reasons to put their faith in him, he finds that his handful of abilities are all that stands between everything he cares about and disaster. Even if he can’t save the world, perhaps what little he can save can tip the cosmic scales that stand so far above him, and that is ultimately what makes his story worth telling. He’s not even close to being some legendary chosen hero, but he does claw his way out of the NEET mentality, and that’s more growth than is to be expected from the standard escapist tale’s protagonist.

Re:Zero may not have had the greatest start and its plot had faced a few rough spats with some of its blander characters and overly convenient developments, but things had been turned in a better direction by the end of episode 11. With nothing holding it back from climbing on to greater heights, there was reason to hope (and hype) that we could now find out what was really going on with Emilia and her currently shallow character as we watch Subaru uncover another web of machinations from the side, moving away from being a lackadaisical kid and towards becoming a functioning adult as he goes.

Alas, that’s not the story the author had in mind. The hope is dead by episode 13.

You see, despite everything the first two arcs build up to, Re:Zero is not an underdog story about a weakling who must figure out how to unravel the darker mysteries of the new world he’s in so that the real heroes he meets along the way have their chance to save it. There weren't any particular issues with that plot progression; if nothing else Subaru had to face his relative unimportance as well as the fact that his standard-issue NEET-bait traits were immature and wouldn’t get him anywhere. His experiences have made this plainly clear, challenging him to reconstruct himself with a wiser perspective and a more productive way of living. If this much is obvious, then what Re:Zero does next is akin to hitting itself over the head hard enough to cause brain damage.

What happens is that the Subaru this anime has spent two arcs slowly developing is suddenly thrown out the window, and a new Subaru takes his place. This Subaru is an entitled brat who takes every negative trait a corporate manager would accuse the stereotypical NEET of and dials them up to 11. He acts in ways that are in direct opposition to the very lessons he learned, talked about, and acted on just a few episodes prior. Whereas just an episode or two before he espoused cooperation and supporting each other, he suddenly goes off as a lone wolf and eschews multiple attempts by his acquaintances to support him, even at the cost of his own wellbeing. This version of him isn’t simply unlikeable (which isn’t even a problem), it’s unbelievable, and the weight of his now-broken character obliterates the suspension of disbelief anyone unfortunate enough to have needed it once had.

The consequences of his actions are brought to an extreme as well. Instead of having to work harder to make up for his mistakes, Return by Death sets him on a circular path of suffering and gore that quickly spirals far beyond his control and lasts far longer than needed to impart any sort of lesson (not that he learns or relearns much during this time). Then, after being smashed to pieces (in more ways than one) for multiple episodes on end, all it takes is a pep talk from a side character essentially telling him to go back to being episode 11 Subaru for him to revert to his old self like nothing happened.

The story ends up suffering from this overreach too. A flurry of cardboard cutouts and stock fantasy templates posing as sorry stand-ins for characters are suddenly dumped into the narrative. Meanwhile, most of the old cast gets flanderized to a similar level, all to suit a half-hearted stab at explaining some of Lugnica’s politics that is left with a mess of loose ends. In turn, the plot progression is abruptly slowed to a crawl as the overwhelming majority of the cast becomes too stupid to get anything of value done.

However, the most glaring fumble of all is the barely-developed romance between Emilia & Subaru. Despite being the sole reason Subaru got into this mess and the root cause of the entire story past episode 1, it gets just about completely pushed aside, along with Emilia herself. Though she’s a main character and the primary event driver in the overall story, Emilia ends with bizarrely scant focus this season. The episodes she could be considered a main character of can be counted on one hand. Instead, Re:Zero puts this time into a separate subplot between Subaru and a different girl, one that ends up more developed than the romance between him and Emilia.

Even when Subaru comes back from his unwarranted character degeneration, things are never the same. He quickly finds himself with a literal army of allies that trust him without question and are willing to die for the goals he has in mind, makes a friend that can temporarily give him magic powers, stumbles across a spirited war mount that instantly lets him be her master, is given full credit for championing a battle he did little more in than act as bait, and casually comments on how he’s starting to build a harem. Even the rules surrounding Return by Death are bent past what had been established earlier, conveniently letting him skirt by the mistakes he does make as this third arc is too bloated to wrap up properly while playing by its own rules.

There are fair reasons behind why some of those later developments occur. Subaru learns at least a few things after he reverts (and quickly reaps the fruits of those lessons). Even so, watching him suddenly become the wish-fulfillment proxy who gets everything he needs to be the hero handed to him in a neatly wrapped box only makes the horrid attempt at narrative reinforcement even more bitter. Even the revised ending from the director’s cut comes off as sweeping loose ends under the rug rather than playing them out as a real story, given how little impact the changes have on the narrative.

That all said, I would be remiss to not praise Re:Zero’s fight scenes, especially towards the end of this season. The leadup to them furthers the worldbuilding by facilitating its lore, magic system, and technology. The resulting variety in scale, tactics, and risks on display creates a deserved hype-and-payoff combo for those viewers who came in seeking quick thrills. Sadly, it’s a feature that can only be fully appreciated from that less analytical angle, as I realized upon a rewatch. For the rest of us, it’s difficult to separate the flashy battles from the plot that they come from, especially when it’s a mess. Bricks aren’t a whole lot more palatable when they’re coated in frosting.

No, what ends up defining this anime is its promise. The promise you see in it will depend on what you’re watching it for, but the promise I saw lasted 11 episodes before it was permanently stained with retcon, then shattered as this third arc ended up becoming a largely hollow affair, one that proved the initial claims of “deconstruction” false. The lesson here is that whether or not a story is a deconstruction, reconstruction, isekai, or any combination of descriptors means nothing compared to the quality of the story itself. Regardless of what Re:Zero was trying to do, its structural issues persist, which is why its reputation was and still is a topic of contentious debate. After enough poorly planned stories of this expectedly dark sort saturated the deconstruction craze of the 2010's, most people stopped caring about the phrase as it became clear that claims of deconstruction are not marks of quality, and the anime community is better for it.

It’s a shame the story and characters are so poorly utilized, because White Fox generally upheld the production end of things. The otherworldly setting is sold quite well thanks to their work rather than just looking like the standard set dressing most isekai settings amount to. While the animation is not consistent and a few moments are made jarring by staticness, the overall visuals are great in their better moments due to consistently great framing and a wide and skillfully used array of color palettes. There's also quite a bit of actual gore on display, not just blood spurts. It's not on the same level as infamously gory anime like Elfen Lied or Genocyber, but it's definitely well past the norm for dark-toned anime of its time.

The voice acting does more to characterize the cast than the writing half of the time, with skillful applications of vocal tics and inflection. The SFX is pretty good overall, especially considering the abundance of cheap fantasy effects that could have been used instead. The soundtrack is lackluster in the first half of the anime, but later on it picks up significantly. There’s a decent amount of good insert songs as well. While the OP & ED visuals are hit-or-miss, their music is quite good, and considering they’re omitted more often than not it’s a good thing the visual focus went elsewhere.

Verdict:

Re:Zero mixes an interesting premise and fair production values with instances of writing so amateurish it scars the whole experience if the cute girls or gore don’t distract you, and those two things can be found in abundance elsewhere. It’s still within the realm of possibility for the next season to salvage the wreck this so-called prequel left in its wake, but what’s been said and done so far is hardly assuring.

Review in brief:

KyoAni’s last hurrah with K-On! is both everything fans could have asked for and only what non-fans have already come to expect by now. The light plot serves as a backdrop to the Keion-bu goofing off and having snacks, except when it rehashes season 2’s ending. You probably already know what to expect if you’ve seen even a single episode of K-On! ~ the question is whether that is for better or for worse.

Review in full:

The K-On! Movie encapsulates the experience of the anime series in one big, gift-wrapped package. Every element ~ strengths, weaknesses, and miscellaneities, are brought out ... in full force. It touches upon the very few plot points in K-On!’s story, and does far more than that in regards to its ending. It looks and sounds better than its topic, story, and genre have ever demanded of it, something Kyoto Animation has done time and time again. Yet, more importantly than all else combined, it spends the vast majority of its time doing what it always has; following the Keion-bu as they eat cake, drink tea, and casually goof off all day, every day, no matter the time, place, or circumstance. It is indeed more of the same, but that could mean two very different things depending on your perspective of K-On! and the CGDCT subgenre as a whole.

For most, the production values in this movie are going to be the biggest standout property. This movie contains what could easily be the most intricate depiction of London from a tourist’s eyes the medium will ever see. The locations are so strikingly real that it’s like being there in person, and that’s just in the background art and subtly vibrant palettes. The detailed yet smooth visuals & animation and the masterful framing make some portions of the TV series (which itself was aesthetically well above average all-around) look like a discount studio’s cheap knock-off by comparison. Even details that no regular CGDCT watcher would consider paying attention to, like the accurate flights and times for planes based on their registration numbers or the slightly differing cranial structures of the various ethnic groups depicted, are given careful attention. On top of that, the scenes that take place back home in Japan are given the same amount of care. Only the slightest nitpicks, like the construction of the Shard not exactly lining up with the timeframe of the movie, can be reasonably leveled against this movie.

This movie’s soundwork is also at a pinnacle for the series. Everyone involved must have developed an intuitive sense for what K-On! sounds like, as even with the nuances that the movie and its new setting brings, everything lines up exceedingly well. The city ambience is markedly foreign yet far from uninviting. The locals speak English in an English accent while maintaining distinct voices. The returning cast’s voices flow so naturally at this point that they effortlessly transition from emotion to emotion, from song to speech to song again, and any inflection that may lie in between. Lastly, even if K-On! has always been less about music and more about merrymaking, both the background and insert songs maintain a colorful variance while still being entirely fitting to the antics of the Keion-bu. It’s poppy, whimsical, simple, and fresh all at once, just as this trip is to the girls.

Yet, while such praises are usually only a good sign, these amazing production values lead into a bizarre issue. Despite all of this painstaking detail put into making the settings as authentic and immersive as possible, the CGDCT antics this movie devotes itself to could hardly care less about all of it. This movie isn’t about a once-in-a-lifetime trip to London or the journey of a young, spirited band. This is K-On! ~ and that means it’s all so that five high-school girls can dork around together and maybe play a song or two. Aside from a pinch of quick music references, some language barrier scenes, and maybe a couple of culture shock moments, the fact that this movie takes place in a foreign city doesn’t even matter. For what it aspires to do, it could have very easily taken place in any other major city with no issue.

So, despite all of the build-up and production put towards a trip to London, this is just one big K-On! episode. The main cast and Sawa-chan-sensei still exhibit all the little nuances they've built up over the series, which combined with the natural character-driven humor would be palatable enough for an episode, but the usual K-On! antics are spread over the majority of this 110 minute movie and the resulting pace is tepid rather than soothing. The other characters present don’t display much character at all, though little time is spent with them so it’s not the biggest issue. Other than the trip and the prep for it, a remade take on season 2’s ending appears as the ending for the movie as well. As before, it’s plain to see coming and requires considerable nostalgia and love for the series plus its characters to achieve the impact it aims for, but the build-up to it is smoother than in the TV series and it doesn’t try to repeat itself, so an improvement is made.

All in all, this is a passable movie. One that puts a lot of effort into things it didn’t need to, but a passable slice-of-life that its expected audience is likely to enjoy. It’s slow and unambitious, but perhaps that’s okay. Life isn’t always a thrilling tale of tragedies & triumphs, often it’s a string of modest or even mundane events. The specific city or the trip as a whole are just about inconsequential to what actually plays out, but at the very least this movie possesses an exquisite backdrop for some simple, lighthearted fun without stagnating itself into self-repetition, even when events that have already been covered are returned to. In that way, it can be a break from the hectic and a refreshing take on the familiar. That’s what lies in the heart of the slice-of-life genre, and while I can see how someone might question this movie’s plot or even its intentions, I don’t see how, with all of the obvious care put into it, someone could question whether it has heart.

Verdict:

Pre-established fans will most likely love this movie; KyoAni knew well what they loved about the TV series. For that same reason, most non-fans don’t have many reasons to appreciate what this movie does; it’s just K-On! with make-up, after all. It’s strange to be in between these two camps, but if nothing else I hope this review helps show that both have had their reasons to exist.