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The potential of storytelling is truly limitless. Rich, vibrant realms can be created with the simplest of tools. Within them, characters can be given life, allowing us to form a compelling connection with whatever struggles they may face. But perhaps the greatest power which these stories can hold is the one to create impact--to inspire change within reality itself.

The Rewrite anime isn't one of those stories--not even close. It's unable to craft any sort of concrete narrative. Storylines which seemingly have no connection to each other are tenuously stapled together, in a similar manner to a child's hopes being crushed by the towering expectations of ... others. Yet, it never manages to convey anything internally, and it never cares to. Instead, it grows its own fragile ego of ostentatious themes and overly ambitious goals. Eventually, it reveals itself to be a guise meant to weakly dispel any acknowledgment of its own hollow identity.

Initially, Rewrite's narrative goals weren't of grandeur, but of re-captivating a naive high school adolescence typically found in anime. In theory, its premise sounds heartfelt: Rewrite follows its main character, Koutarou Tennouji, who, while boisterous and unpredictable among his friends, represses his own isolation and longing for a sense of belonging. Eventually, Koutarou is given the opportunity to join the outlandish Occult Club, where he then gather his friends together, never failing to crack a smile in the way, in order to a live fulfilling youth under the pretext of solving supernatural occurrences.

The High School Club is no revolutionary innovation for anime, but Rewrite's spin on seems like a fresh of breath air as, in opposition to the rigid, cynical, protagonists common in the setting, Koutarou is more than voluntary creating fun for his club. His situation becomes all the more palatable; there are no foreboding conditions to be made or dark, secret pasts covered by a mask. It’s just good ol’ fun.

Yet, Rewrite manages to disassemble itself from ever becoming satisfactory, let alone becoming inspiring. And it does so in the worst way possible: making Koutarou an appalling asshole to watch.

Usually, when describing what goes into good character writing, a common idea thrown is the one of making characters be multifaceted. However, character writing doesn't even need superfluous depth to be effective--that's just one way in which characters are made real. The simplicity of everyday life and idealism reflected by characters can, arguably, echo that reality much easier than the acclaimed Big Damn Heroes. A couple of mannerisms which form a character can go a long way if used with competence, such as giving autonomy to them that allows for coherence.

Rewrite's Koutarou seems to have gotten the wrong idea as to what it is that constitutes a good character. Instead of mixing in one or two mannerisms his characters, Rewrite mixes in a boiling pot of tropes to compose Koutarou. He becomes absurdly multi-faced, being one second a thirsty, flaming pervert, the next second a teen with a heart of gold, and in another instance an angsty philosopher strolling some somber ruins.

Koutaru's character traits accumulate so much that they inevitably topple over, often contradicting each other in the process. When a depressed Koutarou wishes for friends in the morning, only to then taunt his only male friend on a whim, Koutarou can no longer be definitively defined by his desire for companionship which the narrative so strives to develop.

Contradictory characters aren't inherently bad; they can be played for a compelling scenario of irony. A good example being the Haruhi Suzumiya franchise’s Kyon, who portrays a similar desire for extravagant fun to that of Koutarou's, but under the heavy guise of snarky cynicism. However, Kyon, unlike Koutarou, regulates his own traits. He'll only be snarky when he feels the time calls for it. Eventually, Kyon is able to form a middle ground between those two traits, one that humanizes what inflicts his wisecracking nature and what triggers his excitement. It's a process by which we're invited to form a greater connection to the events that stimulate Kyon as he develops, but also one in which Kyon is made more cohesive and, consequently, more believable in his actions.

Koutarou is missing that natural cohesiveness that's important to making him work. His traits aren't connected with each other to form the bigger picture of the Socially Awkward Teenager he is, but instead deliberate throwaways meant to emphasize Koutarou's supposed humorous innateness as a character. They're abrupt, appearing at any moment whether appropriate or not, before fading away. Each instance of Koutarou feels like an entirely different character, up to the point where he no longer feels like a character, much less a person. He becomes an annoyance, enhancing none of the situations he's in but instead stripping away their authenticity.

Arguably, Koutarou lacking any sense of character might be a deliberate thematic element Rewrite is going for. Under the implication, Koutarou's "core" as a character would be spawning different personalities to surpass his lack of any at all, only to then ironically drive home that Koutarou's many faces exhibit a hollow identity to the point of no longer feeling human. In a sense, Koutarou would be a criticism of high school anime protagonists saying that none of the wishful cliches they involve themselves are authentic experiences. They'll only serve as a means of egoistic indulgement, one that deteriorates any sense of "being human" in its own way.

But Koutarou's character shouldn't be trying to make a "point" as an excuse for incompetent character writing. Regardless of whether Koutaoru is meant to satirize protagonists or just represent the hollow shell of a teenager, Rewrite never supplements any context to support such characterization. Under which societal standards found in Rewrite's fictional city, Kazamatsuri, would Koutarou be pressured to be devoid of character? Rewrite doesn't answer any questions which propose a further expanding of Koutarou's background as a person. Consequently, no characterization is given that humanizes his incoherency.

Koutarou arrests every narrative goal to be in assistance towards his character, with everything revolving around him internally. Once Rewrite’s fictional city setting, Kazamatsuri, begins to center around just Koutarou, there are no contrasting comparisons which can be made of both him and his world that can develop both as genuine. It doesn't help that Rewrite’s first half is mostly framed around the high school setting--something which limits construction of an outside world. Kazamatsuri, as a result, loses its tangibility as a location with its own life.

Despite the destruction of a setting being a narrative offense, especially in the case of shows heavy on worldbuilding such as Rewrite, a much greater offense is committed: the dehumanization of other characters as people.

Sympathy and its importance in our relationships with others is a prevalent theme that Rewrite pushes through with Koutarou, who's selfishly blinded by his own lack of receiving any that he, at times, fails to notice the suffering of others. The first half largely consists of making Koutarou come to this realization through the additions of his club members: Kotori Kanbe, Koutarou's childhood friend, Shizuru Nakatsu, Koutarou's kouhai, Lucia Konohana, Koutarou's class president, Chihaya Ohtori, a transfer student, and Akane Senri, the founder of the occult club.

Following the typical nakige anime formula, most of these girls have a hidden past, prompting them to have many insecurities covered by their mannerisms. In the context of the narrative, this formula is especially interesting due to how some of the girls echo Koutarou's flaws. This aspect of the characters is exploited most in their development. However, instead of fleshing them out as people, Rewrite establishes them as figures of sympathy used for drama first and foremost.

Any other traits for these characters are passed aside, leaving many of them to just be unpolished archetypes and nothing more. Within their own universe, they're marginalized, forever trapped by their narrative roles. Kotori, for instance, can only ever be Koutarou's childhood friend. Every dilemma which she faces, every choice she makes, and even her interactions with others are centered on her relationship with Koutarou.

We're restricted from ever having glimpses of these characters lives outside of Koutarou's World that may seem trivial, but add to their humanization as characters. And a lot of these characters clearly show lives beyond the narrative functions; I'd love to see the introspective story of a sexually ambiguous Kotori. But with how Rewrite capitalizes on its characters potential to be melodramatic first, that's just not possible. With their treatment, these characters can no longer be deemed as clearly autonomous people. They're unable to convey any sense of real emotion, much like Koutarou.

However, whereas some characters like Chihaya become utterly forgotten by their own story, quite a few are highlighted with sob stories. With their abrupt nature and lack of any meaningful context, the sob stories can barely function in giving texture to characters. However, Shizuru perhaps provides the single best instance of characterization throughout the whole show thanks to her sob story. In an accident involving her parents, a young Shizuru is left to live off as an orphan with heavy guilt. However, we're not demanded to sob with her, as it's a moment meant to highlight Shizuru's growth from that point onwards. She becomes independently strong, removing most of her regrets from that time. This moment, even if missing some key essentials to being great, is satisfactory enough to inspire a reason to be compelled by Shizuru.

Yet, after this sob story, this aspect of Shizuru's character isn't ever developed, or even touched on, again. The sob story is revealed to have just been vague foreshadowing for some major plot points without showing much care towards Shizuru's strengths. She reverts back to her innocent loli archetype and continues to express her quirky nature to Koutarou in a flaunting manner until drama calls her back again.

It's incredibly ironic how Rewrite shows a total disregard for character development in favor for the tiny tidbits of plot buildup, as said plot is entirely reliant on characterization. The destructive foreshadowing by which everything is sacrificed towards constitutes its second half, which is where Rewrite goes from being a Bottom-Of-The-Barrel title to being downright asinine; it becomes an insult just watching it.

Rewrite's second half, for as convoluted as it can get, can be simplified into one narrative goal: challenging Koutarou's attachments. These attachments, whether they're Kazamatsuri or the Occult Club, become parts of Koutarou's character. However, while doing so, Rewrite denies its audience any attachment towards those settings. They become abstract, stagnant husks of places, devoid of any natural dynamism. This hinders the second half entirely, as it introduces a new setting that's established and feeds off of the hypothetical substance developed in the mundane one. However, as Rewrite evidently doesn’t develop any sense of meaning beforehand, viewers are left in the dark as incoherent melodrama ensues.

[Disclaimer: From this point on, major spoilers regarding Rewrite may be discussed.]

Supernatural elements are a recurrence in Rewrite's first half; it's what all that foreshadowing suggests towards. Yet, there's a total disconnection between the small scope of Koutarou's High School Life and the literal End of The World which Rewrite reveals as the plot of its second half. The apocalyptic threat in Rewrite feels incredibly inappropriate in comparison to anything the show has established beforehand. It's an atrocious plot twist that not only invalidates it's own story and confirms its own superficiality, but also neglects an audience's immersement. At this point, Rewrite no longer feels like a single, coherent show; it feels like two different shows entirely. When internal consistency in Rewrite's world becomes lost, no longer is there any reason to care for its destruction.

Even in isolation, the Supernatural Kazamatsuri fails to create a sense of tangibility like its mundane counterpart. Rewrite builds a world of an ancient conflict between two organizations, Gaia and Guardian, who wish to either end the world or preserve it, respectively. Gaia can control familiars, whereas Guardian members are superhumans, both powers which, while interesting in concept, never seek their potential. But even neglecting their tactical strategies, warfare between the two is dealt with insensitivity. Ideologies are what solely define them and not the humanity behind them. Rewrite doesn’t just expect their abrupt appearance to be meaningful, but it also expects their single, underdeveloped motivations to be compelling to watch in conflict alone. For once in Rewrite, Koutarou shows relatability because of this as he barely betrays any apprehension once he discovers of the organizations' existence.

The main source of hostility between Gaia and Guardian involves around them seeking what determines the earth's destruction, a being dubbed as the Key. Rewrite's countless forms of exposition hinder this tension from being anything close to compelling, with information being told towards the viewer via still shots instead of showing it through the flow of action. Tension, while practically being a scarce element in its first half, becomes nonexistent in its latter half. This can be mostly thanked, however, to the representation of the Key itself: a moe, loli character voiced by Kana Hanazawa.

Typically, characters like Kagari are played with for quick, cheap, future drama; take Fuku Ibuki from Clannad or Kudryavka Noumi from Little Busters! as examples. Unfortunately, to the context of Rewrite's narrative, Kagari doesn't even get this minimal treatment. She isn't even treated like she has a narrative and in-universe function that determines the fate of the plot. She’s completely undermined; when she's undermined for laughs, she's treated as a socially inept figure who is obsessed with coffee. When she's undermined for her fanservice appeal, Koutarou will be "accidentally" groping her flat chest.

Rewrite has absolutely no shame admitting that Kagari is merchandising potential with the small convenience of being a plot device that can be occasionally thrown around. Kagari's character is Rewrite admitting that, despite its attempts, it has no idea what it is it wants to be and then resorts to solemnly indulge, in defeat, by pandering.

Even though nothing at this point can revive its dead narrative, Rewrite's visuals are, at the very least, satisfactory, even if inconsistent at times. If there's anything Rewrite gets consistent for the most part in its visual department, it's its ability to set scenes through lighting alone. Koutarou's room after a lethargic day of fooling around in school provides us with a faint, artificial light that represents Koutarou's own superficiality, only contrasted by a pitch black, unknown outside acknowledged by a window. It provides the tiresome, melancholic imagery that’s necessary to his character, but is rarely ever given the writing to back it up.

The character designs by Masayuki Nonaka themselves are actually fairly endearing, even if the school uniforms of Kazamatsuri students are rather absurd. Masayuki shows a clear aptitude is being able to make his character designs come to live, having many of Rewrite's moments of vivid character animation be done by him. Ryouma Ebata also joins in on the fun by animating and storyboarding the first ED with his signature, realistic walk cycles. Other than these rare exceptions, Rewrite's character designs for the most part lack a nuance that's necessary for conveying characterization that plot alone can't. Character acting can at times be rigid, if at all. Still shots of characters with their moe, Itaru Hinoue eyes gravely kills some of its more serious scenes. It doesn't help that characters being off-model isn't an uncommon occurrence.

Visually, Rewrite kills itself with conspicuous CGI. For the convoluted designs which many of Gaia's familiars have, CGI is used to prevent there from being some atrocious abomination of 2D animation. Nonetheless, the use of CGI itself still isn't mastered, with many of the models themselves showing repetitive animation cycles which just emphasize their artificiality. As familiars often interact with humans, who are 2D animated, them seeming out-of-place is made quickly apparent and quite awkward. The use of CGI is inevitable, but Rewrite fails to clear its stigma in any way.

Being originally a visual novel, Rewrite shares most of its soundtrack with that of its source material, while also containing some anime original compositions. By itself, the soundtrack contains some real gems. Scene Shifts Here is a poignant, yet dramatically impactful piece which wonderfully builds up crescendos. VN music composer Shinji Orito is no stranger to living up the fun of everyday life and in Rewrite, this shows. Kazamatsuri is given the musical character it deserves with some of his pieces, with a personal favorite of mine being the campy DIS Is A Pain. The anime originals are fairly lukewarm, though, with most of them just utilizing motifs in previous tracks or just downright being unremarkable remixes.

However, on a sound design level, Rewrite fails to realize the original emotions contained in its pieces. Many times will leitmotifs accompany characters, serving as reminders of their imprisoning roles, while melodramatic music will be incompetently placed in some scenes. Often times does the music itself try to be emotional substance, in substitution for the lack of any in writing, but ultimately fails. This usage of music becomes formulaic, causing the original tracks to become unfortunately underwhelming. It's a shame seeing some great tracks lose their shine, but with Rewrite's perfunctory directing, it's inevitable.

In the end, I remain truly flabbergasted by Rewrite--at that point, it could have been anything, yet been nothing at the same time. With writing so incompetent, and characters to offensive, the possibility of Rewrite being deliberate garbage with minimal effort put into it wouldn't even be surprising. It creates an internal fool itself, meandering around in search for a purpose, as it makes jokes just to fill in a time slot. In the end, it never finds itself; no one, not even a perplexed audience, could develop a sense of meaning within Rewrite. It died like it lived: rebelliously underestimating storytelling, only to then rot and kill itself all together.

Constructing an immersive fictional world is no easy task. It doesn't matter wheater it's a fantasy or a dystopia that's being constructed. Worldbuilding will always be bounded by the same difficulties. For instance, sci-fi may spend its time cultivating the latest gadgets to please our curious minds. Doing so is more than acceptable. After all, maintaining what makes fiction intriguing is key to storytelling. But if it were to waste time with its exposition, it'll waver in an attempt to locate the essence which it was trying to portray. Which reveals a factor in bad worldbuilding; the tendency to cautiously avoid the dreaded influence of ... The Real World. Ironically enough, a balance between, say, exhilarating magic and reality must be maintained. Said magic just seems conspicuous if no interweavings of the latter are placed. A break from reality can't be deemed as such until the imaginability of fiction shows a hint of creative reality within itself. It's what allows us to confidently cling onto the suspension of disbelief and connect to that enthralling ride beyond our dreams.

The anime adaption of the original Key visual novel, Planetarian: Chiisana Hoshi no Yume, just so happens to be building its own worlds. Being abundant in demolished buildings, skies being engulfed by darkness, and a sheer lack of inhabiting humans, the setting which it's trying to emulate should be evident. The post-apocalyptic setting, a goldmine of a setting for dramatic characterization and thought-provoking themes. Such a premise should come off as striking when put alongside its Key predecessors. The dismal atmosphere shatters any chances of there being anything remotely like childhood promises or magical orbs. Planetarian is only comprised of deteriorated roads, all which lead to a single, abandoned planetarium that awaits for no one. But the setting alone isn't the only eye-catching difference. Planetarian narrates its entire story in just the duration of five episodes, an unconventional length for most modern anime. With how grandiose and insightful narratives of its setting can get, combined with the notorious reputation its predecessors have, Planetarian has some burdening exceptions to dispel. Its terse length, in this case, seems to add more fuel to the fire. In particular, it arouses worries relating to pacing and all the storytelling factors dependent on it.

On the first inspection, these worries definitely manifest their influence on the narrative. Characters are devoid of complexity in favor of more simple outlines. Similarly, the world they struggle in is never provided with an insightful background. In most cases, attributes that can alarm a red flag. Fortunately, the directing in Planetarian acknowledges that its length binds it with these limitations. To achieve coherency, said limitations attempt to optimize themselves within the context of the story. And boy does Planetarian execute this well. By being largely consistent and subdue in its presentation, depth is created by framing the narrative with the developed realization of it being within an apocalypse. All done despite the trigger of such scenario being inexplicable at best. For Planetarian, crafting the scenario at its most basic level is what allows ambiguity to sweep in. A trait which is most intriguing for a post-apocalypse, wherein mysterious elements surrounding the world are likely to induce engrossment.

Now, utilizing minimal exposition, if any at all, may sound a tad bit too convenient. It conveys slight vibes of the minimalism just being a perfunctory excuse to accommodate for the minimal length. However, once such ambiguity is used as less an aspect "for enjoyment" and more an integration of the narrative, it's anything but. Planetarian's storytelling is constantly dependent on the value of its ambiguity being built upon by its two characters. With these two characters, Planetarian is in no need of an omnipotent narrator to guide its viewer on what's going on. Instead, it makes sure to characterize these two characters enough so that their actions alone exemplify worldbuilding. Arguably, this approach to worldbuilding could be considered disfavorable. Focusing on the meticulous details of the apocalypse could have made for a more sophisticated story. But that would have taken away the more personal engrossment which one feels when they partake with a story's characters. The naturality of the two characters' dynamics furthers the compelling nature of their interactions with their world. All while creating a subtextual observation of the implicit themes which their surroundings contain.

Planetarian's use of characterization as worldbuilding is made clear in just the introductory episode. Particularly, it's done so by having them set the stage of their world towards the audience. The human protagonist of the story, for instance, happens to be portraying the status of humanity in his introduction. Although he manages to briefly narrate prior events, his sheer actions alone ameliorates what could have been blank exposition. He's placed as being seen frantically running away from inexplicable robots. The appearance of these robots is abrupt enough to raise a few questions, but Planetarian makes sure to move the audience's attention from this. Instead, it focuses on what they're doing and to whom. A clear relationship between the robots and the protagonist is made through displaying them in motion. The protagonist scurrying from the peculiar robots signifies of his abject struggle for survival. A survival which is now his only notion for living. Through his pitiful purpose, the protagonist's is made indicative of him representing an annihilated humanity. A humanity which, in the context of the story, is forcefully overtaken by their instinctive need to survive. His thematic stance is furthered by his lack of a proper name, going instead by the default terminology of "The Junker". Thus, in his mannerisms, The Junker is simple. He's played the rogue survivor archetype straight without unnecessary quirk attachments. Yet, within the apocalyptic narrative, that's all Plantarian needs for a protagonist.

Thankfully, with the thematic burden he holds, The Junker isn't just written to be humanity incarnate. It's the contrary that's what allows him to be representative. Because he is autonomous as his own character with his own wills and desires, because he isn't a glorified hero figure, he is able to nuance himself as the greater whole. A rightfully immersive trait to have. As he's tangible to natural change anytime throughout the story, Planetarian makes sure to build on his versatility as a character through the flow of the plot. A particular example of this being utilizing his own notions as a set-up to his confrontation with the other solitary character of the series, Hoshino Yumemi. Being a continuation of his introduction, The Junker is seen escaping in search of habitation. Eventually, he finds so in the form of a planetarium. Navigating it, he shockingly encounters Hoshino Yumemi and juts out his gun onto her. Yet, Hoshino displays no concern. After having characterized The Junker as an apprehensive figure, Hoshino Yumemi's careless serenity in their encounter is a blighting contrast. Essentially, a formulaic aspect most common in Key works that note a female character as the "heroine". She's diligent in her nature, being attentive to any formalities, but all while being ignorant of her circumstances. In the dumbfounded eyes of The Junker, traits which simulate an irritation alongside her feminine demeanor.

But she's a robot. A humanoid one designed in the likeness of a girl, but a robot nonetheless. Her moe appearance and occasional mannerisms might suggest otherwise, though. And yet, she's thoroughly consistent as what she's characterized as; a robot. Instances in which she could at any point burst out into one of the dere archetypes are downplayed. So much so that even such instances are used to further her depth as a character. Hoshino Yumemi is juxtapositional to the entirety of the world that unknowingly surrounds her. In serenity, Hoshino is an artifact left behind in the apocalypse. One that operates under the will of her programming without the slightest hint of complaining. With how a static life implies melancholy, one would think this were a trait meant to segway her into emotional development. Yet, it's completely the opposite. Instead, it develops her foil attributes to develop both her and the theme which she stands for. Had Hoshino been a human, she would have had an existential crisis at best. But since she's a clear robot, Planetarian switches her into, ironically, being a figure of hope.

But due to its emphasis, Hoshino's juxtapositional status may seem to just construct her a plot device. Admittedly, she's definitely written purely to present a contrasting ideology within Planetarian–but there's nothing inherently wrong with. Much like how The Junker's character is malleable in any scene due to his human nature, Hoshino's artificialness is consistent with how effective it is in sustaining her character. Thus, making her as a delectable foil to have without the worries of thematic contradiction. Moreover, it makes her an all the more emotionally encaptivating spectacle to watch, due to how her robot mannerisms trace back on the ambiguity of the apocalypse. Hoshino is, thus, formed into one of the more sentimental Key heroines. Even of the audience knows she's a robot.

Incidentally, Hoshino wouldn't be half the character she was if The Junker's presence weren't with her. While the series is never interested in implying romantic interest between the two, they both share impactful influences on each other's character. The first confrontation between the two highlights this well. Whereas The Junker during the beginning is a being in acknowledgment of his own despairful attempts at surviving, Hoshino is incapable of perceiving anything she does or sees under the subjective lenses of desperation. These two states clash within their first encounter, particularly on the side of The Junker. And it's what kindles the start of a dynamic relationship that it itself is continuously developed by rich interactions.

These interactions are the core of the narrative; thus, they take up a majority of the series. This doesn't pose itself as a problem, though. Quite conversely, it constantly shows itself to be the main foundation of the thematic development. So much so, that regardless of an instance of them not being in the same room, they'll still be interacting with each other due to the heavy influences which they inflict on each other. The opening episode showcases this in just its first few minutes and continues to build on them right up until the last few seconds. Which is where The Junker's fluid agency comes into play. All his interactions with Hoshino shed some light on a new side of his character. The stagnant Hoshino herself reflects the hope which The Junker had, now deteriorated, to grasp some meaning. Yet, out of his own initiative, The Junker continues interacting with her nonetheless. With each coming interaction, The Junker's lack of hope is reinforced and, often times, challenged. Through the course of simple, mundane actions such as fixing a light source, or viewing a galactic presentation, The Junker eventually shows gradual change. A change which repairs the deteriorated hope he had beforehand. The Junker's character through these situations is coherently developing himself one step ahead of his previous self by, not finding new things to despair about, but finding new things to hope on,

Of course, the robotic Hoshino is incapable of changing as much as The Junker. But this attribute of their relationship shouldn't be disregarded as just being one-sided. The Junker is able to show growth—but only because he's perceived Hoshino in a new light beforehand. Through this, Hoshino's dull lines slowly adapt themselves to sustain more emotional depth once she's accompanied by The Junker. The predetermined content she automatically delivers is still intact, but the context in which she delivers them in changes everything from the ground up. And it's this subtlety to their interacting dynamics that makes them so natural, so intriguing to watch. Yet, Planetarian doesn't discard the dismal atmosphere of the land they're in, on the contrary, it completely recognizes it. But only because it is able to recognize the truth that surrounds them is it able to truly mold them as characters with hopes.

Just like how its consistent writing prevents it from neglecting its apocalyptic setting, the visuals within Planetarian make sure to set the tone of the narrative right. Being painted with drastically downing dulls, the exterior of the apocalyptic world is forever made of evident of its depressive environment. With the rubbish remains of demolished buildings in the background, and meaningless displays of leaking, brackish water pipes, Planetarian's usage of destroyed human creations to signify a lost hope is definitely a bit on-the-nose. Not that it poses itself as a problem. The exterior world is fixed with grays for the sake of visually developing The Junker's character and, thus, his perception of the world. Once the planetarium is introduced, similarities of color schemes are kept within it, but a completely different feeling is attached to it. While still showing tinges of being abandoned, the interiors of the planetarium are painted with profound, sentiment reds. This change of tone fits how The Junker regains bits of hope within the safe haven of the planetarium but is still nonetheless aware of his alienated state. The sentimentality of the planetarium's color is then challenged by The Junker, now alongside a new Hoshino, when he ventures back into the unknown exteriors of the world. The usage of a setting's color to stimulate warmth only to then be subverted for a finale is by no means anything revolutionary. But it doesn't have to be. It's simple and subtle. And Planetarian has always been effective in that regard for its storytelling.

It should come off as no shock that Planetarian's ending never frames itself as something grandiose. While it still manages to sew in some Key Melodrama™, under the subsided presentation beforehand, it's best conveyed as the aftermath of a build-up of emotional characterization and themes. Planetarian's characters don't bawl themselves into rivers of tears nor discredit their previous development. They dare to confront their despair to find fragments of hope and, thus, remain strong under the gloom of their sky. All done before fading themselves out in the final credits as individuals who have lived. Which is where Planetarian's biggest strength comes in; utilizing the brevity and, at times, the triviality of its plot and characters to craft a dynamic story of hope. It is in no need of expositional padding nor groundbreaking character writing to create a great story. All it does is take the standard apocalypse and carefully subvert into something that's comforting. Planetarian reminds us of the often-forgotten statement that sometimes less is definitely more. ​

And, hey, a good visual novel adapation for once!

Perfection has always been one of the most utmost desires humanity has ever had. Frankly, it’s easy to see why. We people naturally want what we feel is better for us, whether it be by improving one’s attributes, or even by obtaining the greatest and latest in, what we believe are, materializations of ecstasy. In a way, such a desire is carved into our genes, forming an inevitable instinct. As such, for centuries, the cycle of humanity’s longing for perfection has gone through constant loops without bearing sufficient enough fruit. Tidbits of the world’s history have accounted the presence of this cycle, both vaguely and ... explicitly. Moreover, philosophers have long argued out with each other as to what exactly defines the concept of “perfection” we so seek. Yet, as more theories are regurgitated, more questions arise as to what can exactly be defined as “perfect”, so to speak. Is it found in the state of one’s being, our relationships with other people, or our accomplishments? Despite all our struggles at an attempt towards perfection and grasping its meaning, we’ll likely never reach the age in which we can present to our fellow homo sapiens what exactly defines our desires.

Sakamoto of Sakamoto Desu Ga, however, has achieved that very perfection and other aspects of grand calibers in just his very state of adolescence. Undeniably, such is a feat that even the most epic of legends can ever hope to describe in bountiful analogical detail. Having attributes that are the equivalent to that of an omnipotent divinity, Sakamoto constantly excels at everyday difficulties with radiance and class. Dangerous obstacles pose no harm to a modest Sakamoto, quite the contrary. The very obstacles up against Sakamoto’s path rid of their malicious intents via reaching a transcendent of purpose upon the simple touch of Sakamoto’s graceful forgiveness. And very much like those purified obstacles which Sakamoto has benefitted, Sakamoto’s mere presence itself is akin to that of a magnificent fragrance that attracts all and transfigures us all. A mere walk taken by Sakamoto along a mundane park produces the blossoming of a multitude of flowers, along with the rising of the glorious sun. Those behind Sakamoto´s shadow gather around, praising his perfection beyond the extent that a theological figure holds. The rituals in which they participate in know no bounds; all are welcome in the hands of Sakamoto. Not that us plebeians can even absorb anything from Sakamoto's teachings without our sinful nature crawling its way out of us. Nonetheless, evidence of a blessing on humanity has never become as evident as Sakamoto's existence itself. Truly, there must be some kind of god out there. And that god, by all means, must be Sakamoto.

Alright, let’s remove all the memetic mutations Sakamoto has formed and get real. Sakamoto Desu Ga?’s initial premise practically oozes out criticism in a single word: redundancy. After all, its primary genre is slice of life; a genre that invites viewers to immerse themselves into the tiny worlds of characters’ mundane lives. When taking this into consideration, redundancy is definitely a crucial flaw that can easily pry itself in at any moment. Sakamoto Desu Ga?’s premise of its titular character frolicking around as the participant of shenanigans in which he is a metaphorical god in is bound to get tiring fast. It practically discourages any curiosity one might have on wasting their time on a show in which aestheticism is the only thing going for it. In the end of the day, Sakamoto will always have a gallant laugh after having confronted a challenge, drink some wine on a refined glass, and indulge in luxury. And, even then, viewers cannot relate themselves to a being rid of flaws. Whereas disposable characters with the likes of Kirito or Kyousuke from My Little Sister Can´t Be This Cute are structured to be wish-fulfillment, Sakamoto doesn't provide any gaps in his existence that one can squeeze themselves into. If anything, watching Sakamoto's constant gaining of achievements as the sun sets itself invites irrationality. Whether it be from the fruitless task of watching Sakamoto reach new frontiers effortlessly or pure envy from a lack of understanding Sakamoto's divinity. Sakamoto's singular quirk of perfection just doesn't meet the requirements for enjoyment.

Or so one would think after having read the synopsis on paper. I say this as I too was a victim of skepticism as to how exactly Sakamoto desu Ga would play out. Of course, you could always aim for the most obvious executions, such as making the most basic usage of Sakamoto's talent through the varying of situations. But with the haunting premise Sakamoto Desu Ga curses itself with, even such an approach isn't without its own flaws. The biggest challenge Sakamoto Desu Ga has to deal with is how it will fundamentally differentiate itself each time, not through the situations Sakamoto gets himself in, but rather on how its stylistic tone is each varying situation is implemented. Both as a parodic comedy that laughs at our existence, and as a stock gag series, it has to keep intact what makes it so thematically different without ever boring the audience. However, upon realizing this work was in the hands of Shinji Takamatsu, a director whom I believe is fairly brilliant when working with comedic anime, I knew I had nothing to fear. He's the very reason as to why Gintama gained the legacy it so holds today, discarding controversial opinions. And even without Gintama, the guy's handling of comedy has been shown to have, not only to be consistent but better throughout the years. Sakamoto's premise is by no means a factor one should worry about, as absolute utilization of the exploits in Sakamoto's outlines is something Takamatsu can surely handle well. And handled well he did, as Sakamoto Desu Ga´s conveying of comedy is truly a unique experience. While it never manages to even closely reach the impeccable altitude that it's titular character has erected, it does manage to reach heights that demand respect.

The most fundamental, yet difficult task that has to be dealt with is hooking us into Sakamoto's heavenly characteristics. For a majority of the time, regardless of the audience finding Sakamoto as their idolized figure or containment of vented hatred, our attachment to Sakamoto is what will influence our enjoyment throughout the show. This could be done by opting out for the promotional route, either by creating PVs highlighting Sakamoto's loftiness or making a Sakamoto-themed 3DS layout. Of course, none of these cheap tactics would've had any effect if I were to just blindly walk into Sakamoto's world. The molding of Sakamoto's essence within the show he inhabits is what truly matters. Contrary to this, however, Sakamoto Desu Ga? absolutely denies creating any further traits to Sakamoto's character beyond what was originally founded. Sakamoto is just an overwhelming cool being. No profound implications, just pure coolness. Don't worry about missing this crucial detail; the narrator at the beginning of most episodes will provide you with his description of Sakamoto's persona. A clearly direct reminder to us all that Sakamoto is a medium meant to produce coolness.

Yet, the maneuvering around any possible flaws such characterization brings is handled with cunningly well. The usage of the adjective "cool" under the circumstances of Sakamoto explicitly brings out subjectivity. How exactly one perceives a fellow being as having qualities remarkable enough to encourage casual praise is entirely based one's own personal beliefs of what fabricates a figure of sublime respect. Which prompts the question, "What exactly is it about Sakamoto that makes him cool?". And that very form of skepticism is something Sakamoto Desu Ga knows its audience will make, as it's a necessity to how it'll execute its portrayal of Sakamoto. Taking advantage of the seemingly one-note flaws under Sakamoto's persona allows a flexible utilization of the character in question. The surroundings around Sakamoto and how he responds to them are all based on the very idea that he's "cool", but they're completely indirect in portraying the slyness of Sakamoto. At one point, Sakamoto's breaking physics, at the other, he's practicing eccentric behaviors in solitude. If the viewer weren't fed on the idea of Sakamoto's nature, they'd possibly put themselves into a stump if they were to describe Sakamoto solely based on his isolated actions. But with the cool-tinted leans Sakamoto Desu Ga provides the viewer with, all the actions he so performs already fall into the default categorization of "cool". This form of in-your-face characterization is what stirs up questionability in determining if the very figure in question is indeed as directly described. The instance when you've fallen to that bait is when Sakamoto's essence will truly be cast upon your mindset, resulting in the joining of new brethren for Sakamoto's praise. Essentially, predetermination in characterization is what allows Sakamoto to shine. Any and all actions Sakamoto performs will now automatically be described as "cool" via Word of God, therefore, his character is in complete control simply because he can act in accordance to any whim he so carries without ever breaking the influence held in his presence.

Of course, such a tactic can be discarded as wasted if it's not used effectively enough to at least maintain an interest in Sakamoto's legacy. Similarly, writing that requires a subtle form of manipulation to work to its full effect is practically impossible to maintain throughout. Having a couple of loose strings attached here and there is inevitable. Stubborn people whose pride doesn't permit them to watch a show with "the same joke repeated consecutively" won't infatuate themselves with Sakamoto. People who've been on the Sakamoto train ever since its premiere are prone to wear off their attention if Sakamoto's flexibility were to be abused enough to the point of making his extreme activities senselessly mundane. Such a form of inconsistency is something not even Sakamoto himself can control; comedy is most prone to become tiring due to how subjective humor as a whole is. In the case of Sakamoto, excessive exposure is what damages him the most. At times, watching Sakamoto's radiance be escalated causes an undesirable blinding light in enjoyment. Thankfully, the prolonging of neglection towards flaws isn't allowed. Even with the marginalization its rough edges cause at times, Sakamoto Desu Ga is able to prosper itself by handling the variation of situations its titular character is placed in with a tenderly ease acknowledgment of its strengths and shortcomings.

Where the core of Sakamoto's comedic value lies is in the situations Sakamoto is utilized in. Despite how conventional such an approach seems at first glance, the factors that depend on the situations are kept in resonance with the eccentric, stylistic charm the show holds. The warping of the original definition that "cool" had towards Sakamoto's character is done so by the surroundings around him testifying his endurance. Often times, his environments provide materialized obstacles or internal conflicts for Sakamoto to decimate. Once presented, Sakamoto will begin accumulating towards tactics in which he will break through the problems indicated before a problematic experience fully launches itself on him. On first inspection, the formulaic structure of overcoming challenges is a hindrance that sticks out like a sore thumb. Yet, the issues Sakamoto faces don't ponder into the possibility of his outcomes being successful, such a thing is a given. It's not so much "Will Sakamoto open the pickle jar?", but rather, "How will Sakamoto open the pickle jar while simultaneously exemplifying his wonderous eroticism?" The developing of Sakamoto's tactical schemes and how he utilizes them in the most prosperous, randomized manner possible is key to the delivering of punchlines. Sometimes, the figure does some inhumanely ludicrous things. Other times, he unexpectedly performs with normality. The more poetic verses Sakamoto spouts while majestically reading a classic on the edge of a school window, the more one becomes curious with how the abilities and techniques Sakamoto will ploy tests the boundaries that his "coolness" can reach. This, of course, isn't to say the atmosphere he's in is merely present to become the victim of Sakamoto. In actuality, it's the mundane nature in each atmosphere he's implemented in that allows us to sneak a peek on Sakamoto's unmeasurable capabilities. The seemingly normal settings Sakamoto gets in are what amplitudes his sheer capacity to convey coolness. The settings don't accommodate their natural laws whenever Sakamoto's presence enters the field, rather, they welcome Sakamoto with warm hands without any of the irritating fanfare. Sakamoto's shenanigans being viewed as "commonplace" simply because his charisma allows him to makes his performances feel all the more "cool" instead of pathetically forced.

Contrary to what one might expect out of his sheer divinity, Sakamoto is not the figure that holds up the entire show on his shoulders. Sure, his legacy is plastered on everywhere as if the entire world were to revolve around Sakamoto and Sakamoto only, but appearances can only be so deceiving. Instead, the very people who envelop themselves to Sakamoto are the individuals who are tasked with structuring the show as a whole. A god's foundation cannot exist without any followers, and such is the case with Sakamoto. The side characters that happen to inhabit the same world as Sakamoto are where the value of the show derives from. The whole collective body of side characters are symbolic of the flawed, foolish attributes humanity holds, which is what allows Sakamoto's perfection to be properly measured as something far more than a concept. The functionality of the side characters isn't largely the equivalent of that of a peanut gallery, however. This isn't to say that their purpose at times doesn't come up to be as such, it does. After all, if it weren't, we wouldn't be able to properly perceive Sakamoto's display of transcendentalism as the extraordinary thing that it is. But they can only indulge in such praise because they themselves have none of the attributes Sakamoto possess. While it never invites for tone-breaking seriousness, the fact that each of the side characters shares their own self-conscious flaws is largely what determines their purpose in the narrative. For instance, fellow male adolescents in Sakamoto's class will let their jealousy towards Sakamoto's universal harem corrupt them. So much so that they take the action to become an obstacle in Sakamoto's path, in hopes of ruining his image. This forces Sakamoto to participate in their internal struggle in hopes of reaching a solution only he himself can achieve. If angsty delinquents aren't what's troubling Sakamoto today, then it'll be pubescent girls aiming to get a glimpse of the forbidden fruit. All of which are dealt with a small dose of Sakamoto´s mercy. Essentially, the opposition of conflicts between the side characters' struggles and Sakamoto's carefree state of perfection are what compose the show as a whole.

Despite how cursorily the side characters are presented at times, Sakamoto Desu Ga does not aim to make itself a satire on humanity's futile grasping for power and ideals by having its embodiment of perfection kicking on them as if they were mere pebbles on the road. At any point, such an execution of Sakamoto's character would have made the premise justifiable, enough to make the snarkiness that surrounds the show all the more ensuing. Yet, Sakamoto Desu Ga opts itself out for a much more different road. Instead of exemplifying his gracefulness through the mockery of others, Sakamoto's way of going about others dilemma is much more benevolent. All the approaches Sakamoto takes whenever confronted with an internal struggle is beneficial, not to him, but to the people that he aids. Sakamoto does so by simply reaching out his hand to whoever calls out for enlightenment, in one way or another. In the end of the day, however, the people in his aid aren't rid of any of the flaws they hold just because Sakamoto helped them. No one ever reaches heights close to that of Sakamoto, but that's only because they don't need to anymore. Sakamoto's perfection is utilized by making side characters come to the realization that what they desire isn't perfection in everything, but rather a peaceful acceptance of their flaws. Whenever Sakamoto accomplishes such a task, the side characters simply move on with their lives under the teachings Sakamoto conveyed. Such scenes become unexpectedly heartwarming and genuinely endearing at times. And while they will by no means gauge out all your bodily fluids out of your eyes, they do add a complimentary layer of meaning to the show as a whole. Integrating light thematic substance into shows of Sakamoto's kind is considerably difficult to carry out. Once one line akin to that of teenage poetry is spouted with serious intents, a breaking of the comical atmosphere is bound to occur. The existence of Sakamoto's figure, however, prevents such a thing from happening. As Sakamoto is consistently within the stylistic deadpan aestheticism of coolness, so is the very show itself in its execution of events. All the enlightenments Sakamoto performs are done with the same class he does other actions with, making what would've felt as a horned-in PSA feel natural within the show's style. It helps that Sakamoto Desu Ga is an exceptional comedy that keeps its continuity in check, much unlike that of irritating romcoms. Whenever a previously focused character makes their way into a future scene under the influence of their change, one can't help but make a wry smirk, both for the characters in question and for our always-growing entrustment towards Sakamoto's coolness.

Sakamoto´s meager classmates aren´t the only beings active in the veneration of Sakamoto, however. As with similar regard to the many depictions that have been given to the religious figure that is Jesus, Sakamoto has been painted with the very colors of elegance in his animated portrayal. Mostly thanks to the glorious animation studio that is Studio Deen, Sakamoto´s character design has been vigilantly adapted to captivate the very spiritual fragrance he composes with his brilliant loftiness. Enlightenment itself can be simply achieved with just a simple glance of Sakamoto´s poetic figure. It truly is quite the spectacle. Pseudo-theological jabbering aside, if one were to take a look at Sakamoto without previous knowledge as to what the show he´s the namesake of revolves around, they´d probably succumb to noting a casual remark on the cool persona he vibrates. And such a thing is to be expected of; Sakamoto´s character design itself characterizes him as the being he is without any need for an introduction. His build is robustly defined enough to engulf any passersby into his impacting gravitational pull, yet is equally spiced with the scent of adolescence to convey his comforting approach. His facial features are sharp and refined, being comprised of eloquent eyes with the capability of radiating his charisma, a wonderfully formed chin that will surely invoke some envy in CLAMP characters, and a single divine mole reminiscent of 18th-century nobles. Not to mention his stylishly parted blackened hair that serves as a complementation towards his celestial glasses. It´s no wonder why delinquents and Tumblr bloggers everywhere are dedicating themselves to Sakamoto´s figure in the tributes that are phone wallpapers. Conversely to Sakamoto, the side character´s that accompany him aren´t all that shabby either. While they can never hope to hold a candle to him, their designs certainly set the scene for the quasi-serious comical atmosphere of the show. Albeit comparing them to Sakamoto might be too grand of a scale, all the inhabiting characters are rather simplistic in how they´re designed. Besides Sakamoto´s exceptional display, designs throughout the show don´t convey any particular style to them. Occasionally, they´ll carry minimal traits to physically define themselves with and that´ll be it, which is sufficient in making them distinctive. The very simplicity they carry, much like their written characteristics, is a clear opposition to Sakamoto, which in return makes his greatness stand out more than it already has.

Yet, the character designs and how glamorous they aren´t all that matters. After all, this isn´t the doctrine that is the manga, this is an anime. Experiencing how The Sakamoto´s routines and actions come into play once the animation is added to the formula is one of the fundamentals in grasping his character. One would think that animated characters can only fully capture once their animation is realistically fluid, and such an idea wouldn´t be all that farfetched. However, the said capturing of emotion isn´t all that reliant on how many frames the model of a character is composed of. The sly mention of the animation studio, Deen, has been dropped for a reason. Deen hasn´t exactly been known to be the most vibrant animation studio in Japan; it’s what gave birth to the now deteriorated infamy they had. As such, Sakamoto Desu Ga in the gritty hands of Deen shouldn´t be expected to be chock-full of sakuga or scenery that’s worthy of rivaling Makoto Shinkai. Nor should it be down frowned upon; Deen´s been on quite a roll this recent year, what with the rare piece of art that was Winter 2016´s Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu, as well as with Konosuba´s comically ingenious utilization of its “poor” visuals. With Sakamoto Desu Ga, however, pulling off a visual technique that’s both pleasing to the budget at hand and the final product is a bit more on the difficult side. Considering the show´s premise, one would expect visuals as grandiose as the ace himself throughout, but that is not the case here. The visuals of the show, much like some occasional gags that simply missed, tend to lean more towards on the inconsistent side of things. For instance, several times do Sakamoto´s facial attributes blankly disappear in the void that is the off-model. This results in the singular feature of Sakamoto becoming his empty, hollow glasses that display nothing else but an uninviting stare of pure whiteness. One could say that this is a deliberate, almost surreal attempt at conveying a contrasting side of Sakamoto that displays perfection as something to be feared, but I digress. Fortunately, the movement of the character does make up for this. Within the bizarre, yet surely cool habits Sakamoto executes, the animation is what partially allows for his abstract performances come to light. Whether he´s ludicrously brandishing his arms about, carefully pouring salt with his heavenly hands, or running in the style of Darwin´s evolutionary theory, an optimization towards the weak animation is made. Combined with the absurd shoujo special effects in the backgrounds, one can´t help but appreciate his wonder and snap a gif or two to stash in their private Sakamoto folder. On a similar note, the side characters often experience the same phenomenon that is the “off-model”, but on them, it´s much more welcome. There´s no doubt that the minor occasions in which they take place are due to another one of Sakamoto´s extraordinary powers.

With how exceptionally Sakamoto excels as a human being, both in his body build and characteristics far beyond that of plebeians, one would think that a voice would not be required to finally resonate the character. Considering how perfect he is, the necessity to convey messages indicative of meaning through vocal abilities wouldn´t confront Sakamoto. Unexpectedly, however, Sakamoto is containment of a particular voice. Luckily, the seiyuu he´s been cast with couldn´t have any more divine: Hikaru Midorikawa has been given the virtue of being able to voice Sakamoto. Admittedly, the guy´s experienced with characters types meant to extract awe out of the viewer, such as in the case of the embodiment of brotherly sentimentalities that is Natsume Kyousuke from the Little Busters, and the most admirable conman and best girl known as Deishuu Kaiki from the Monogatari series. His performance as Sakamoto is by no means a decline in comparison to these two. Midorikawa´s take on Sakamoto is splendid in which it manages to capture all the traits the character possess in one voice without the need for tonal shift. He´s humble and modest enough to attract a passing bird, yet erotic and romantic enough to tingle your sensations with a single whisper into your ear. With such a majestical voice, it’s no wonder why high school girls and delinquents alike reach the peak of ecstasy once confronting Sakamoto. And despite the potential of his voice alone being able to equate to that of a German chorus, surrounding soundtracks happen to accompany Sakamoto in his actions. The score of Sakamoto Desu Ga at first glance might seem like that of a Mozart masterpiece, but upon much closer inspection, it´ll be revealed that is not the case. Abundantly throughout the show do multiple renditions of Sakamoto´s leitmotif play, more often than not whenever Sakamoto is in the process of accomplishing a gag. It´s full of class and jazz, very much like his persona, however, I can only dare to describe it as “Sakamoto-esque”. Unfortunately, the leitmotif in question isn´t sufficient enough a track to be constantly played throughout in almost every single episode. After a while, when the memes die off, it wears off as well. Only then can the fact that other pieces in Sakamoto Desu Ga´s soundtrack exist come into light. But by that point, the leitmotif would have already spread its influence enough to make them, quite frankly, dismissable. Albeit when compared to how the leitmotif exerts the entire style of the show all in one, other pieces simply aren´t sonorous enough to maintain atmosphere beyond their particular usage in a fitting scene.

Contrary to the lackluster soundtrack’s inability to fully captivate The Sakamoto, the opening and ending themes of the show are dynamic in their ability at expressing the show’s signature style. The dubbed title of the show´s opening itself, [COOLEST], exemplifies the capacity of Sakamoto´s abilities. Being composed of guitar riffs that are sure to reach out to the heavens, some absurdly befitting lyrics to what follows, and Sakamoto performing everyday tasks in manners in which only he can, [COOLEST] couldn´t have been dubbed by any other name. Customi Z sure fabricated an opening that’s both an earworm to listen to and complimentary to the series. In juxtaposition to the zaniness of the opening, the ending theme, [Nakushita Hibi ni Sayonara] by Suneohair, is of a more melancholic and sentimental tone. Featuring Sakamoto indulging in luxurious pastimes in the midst of a dawn-engulfed afternoon, the emotionally invoking ending theme serves as a curtain call to the subdue thematic implications throughout Sakamoto Desu Ga. Both songs are similar in this regard; they set the mood naturally well as introductions to the show at hand and subtle farewells to the viewers. Plus, what sane person wouldn´t want to jam out to the choruses of “Kuuru, kuuraa, kuurizuto!” directed towards praising Sakamoto?

Once all eccentric mannerisms of the titular character have come to a momentary intermission, Sakamoto Desu Ga, despite the conspicuous premise arousing skepticism towards redundant gags, is an unexceptionally engrossing comedy to watch that´s in acknowledgment of its shortcomings without neglecting what makes it brilliant. When inspecting the character´s mannerism both ironically and casually, one can´t help but instantly be enraptured by Sakamoto´s charisma. Despite the constant allusion to him being an embodiment of perfection, when scrutinizing Sakamoto he´s anything but a euphemized figure of boredom. The direction of the show´s stylistic humor is as well-composed as the character himself in merging the obscure mannerisms of Sakamoto in a universe where such frolicsomeness is accepted as the norm.This, however, doesn´t prevent itself from stepping into unknown boundaries well in its reach, being the providing of simplistic themes properly interweaved thoughtfully enough to contain impact without ruining its comical priorities. With its tongue-in-cheek maintenance of its characters reputation and clever exertion of the varying potential he has in his COOLness, Sakamoto Desu Ga plows itself through as a comedy with sheer swagger, resulting in an enchanting experience far beyond that of transcendental happenings and linear punchlines devoid of the gracious touching.

Desperation has the capability of bringing out the worst of people. It can strip away all the remaining hope an individual once believed they had. It can turn humble beings into selfish, furious beasts that throw away all the humanity they have for a mere scrap of food. The possibility of maintaining a normal relationship with another of your kind is but an afterthought. Whether it’s because of deception of others for the benefit of oneself or due to the clinging of another’s good will, lack of companionship is but another addition to the multitude of hopelessness they share. People who have been putting off ... walking on the path of hope will come in acquaintanceship with the dreaded being of despair as they’re cast off from society into an unknown world that once was.

In the world of Gyakkyou Burai Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor, desperation among the population is what could be considered normality. Bottom feeders of society are put into corners by the regrets they so hold. Bigwigs constantly gain more and more wealth. Human morals are tossed aside. Awareness towards those in poverty is never considered, instead, discrimination occurs. Such is how the world is depicted in Madhouse’s 2007 adaption of the Nobuyuki Fukumoto manga series’ first installment. A truly exaggerated, yet uncomfortable world of egoistic bodies casting their shadows throughout the envious. Yet, it does all this while managing to reminiscently captivate a fragment of our world beneath all its ludicrous events, echoes of zawazawa, GAR, and moe noses. This creates an over-the-top narrative that isn’t afraid to convey a sense of realism despite acknowledging where it’s standing on.

As Ultimate Survivor (which will be what I will refer to the Kaiji anime as for the sake of clarification, bear with me) expositions itself, we’re given an immediate look into the life crisis of the main character, Kaiji Itou. He’s on the run from debt collectors, occasionally steals the minor possessions of others to boost his self-esteem, and probably cries himself to sleep whenever his delusion of living a good life is broken. Such is the daily routine in Kaiji’s life. That is until what seems to be a dreaded debt collector confronts an anxious Kaiji. The shady figure, known as Endou, details to Kaiji that one of his former acquaintances has burdened Kaiji with an absurdly large debt, much to Kaiji’s surprise. There is hope, however. Or so it seems. The primary reason as to why Endou bothered to interact with Kaiji was to propose him to a sweet deal that’ll surely help him get rid of all his piled up debt: gambling. And not just any type of gambling. Kaiji has to battle it out with around 100 other people just like him in a ship known as the Espoir. Otherwise, Kaiji’s thrown back into a hell worse than he could’ve ever imagined.

The sole aspect Ultimate Survivor needs to exceptionally succeed at what its narrative strives to be is a good main character. It is essential to have a great protagonist in a series that heavily revolves around their survival in the midst of despair. For the whole duration of the show, the viewer’s going to have to watch this man in his early-twenties confront horrors and engage in tense duels between others. If I’m apathetic towards this long-nosed guy in need of a haircut, then watching him dilly dally around for 9 hours would be of no merit. Fortunately, that is not the case in Ultimate Survivor. If anything, the construction of Kaiji’s character is where Ultimate Survivor excels at the most in its narrative. And, honestly, that’s the only thing needed in its storytelling to make it engaging.

The portrayal of Kaiji’s character is the most crucial factor as to why Kaiji’s characterization is one of worth. Ultimate Survivor doesn’t aim to make Kaiji out to be an arrogant ace who snarks back at the opponents he has beaten with the help of plot coincidences. He isn't made out to be a pathetic wimp who's constantly beaten by the leash after having already received enough humiliation either. You won’t find any of the traits of your average protagonist in Kaiji, he’s none of that. The trait that defines Kaiji the most is simple: he’s human. He makes his mistakes. He lets temptation creep in occasionally. He trusts others too much. He’s naive. Yet, he learns from his faults to keep on growing. He accepts the fact that wishes can’t be obtained easily. He is deceptive to others and himself when the time calls. And, most of all, Kaiji matures. Kaiji will be confronted with further sorrows from the obstacles he faces, and he’ll cry. He’ll cry, cry, and cry. But in the end of the day, Kaiji will come to terms with his circumstances and keep on moving forward. Even if the mindset that tells him to do so is naive.

Even if he doesn’t obtain what he desires, Ultimate Survivor isn't attempting to make Kaiji a sympathetic character by demanding the viewer to put themselves in Kaiji’s shoes whenever he’s in a dire situation. No, Kaiji’s character works because the viewer's connection with him will further develop as Kaiji’s resolve and realizations simultaneously grow. Combined with the surrounding dark atmosphere of the whole show, Kaiji’s simply a character you’d naturally want to root for. You just want Kaiji’s gambling antics to succeed for him to clear his debts, live a normal life, and get the nonexistent girl. Each gain and loss Kaiji experiences only further constructs the desire to see Kaiji win. Yet, Kaiji’s constant experiences of the contradictions between life and loss are much more than just a tool to reel in viewers into caring for this character. They’re of more profound value. As Kaiji is the most prevalent character in the series, he’s the one that carries all the show’s themes on his back. All of Kaiji’s dilemmas portray an outlook on the brutality of life and other people. The ones in which the whole series thematically stands on. Life is merciless and so are the people that have it, but if you move forward with all the gambles of hope regardless of the fact, you’re sure to be at least one step ahead.

The situations in which Kaiji is put in are pure tensity. No further description of them would be needed, yet let me elaborate. The aspect of gambling is what Ultimate Survivor largely consists of. As Kaiji time is vastly different from ours, many of the normally short battles get turned into major arcs. Arguably, the show is divided into three. While the dragging out of battles definitely serves its purpose, both as build up for Kaiji’s later battles as well as his own growth, it does have a chance of making one impatient. The first arc is where this flaw is most prevalent in, where the development of character and themes still had a rough start. Fortunately, Ultimate Survivor takes note of this and numbs the dragging of scenes down enough and ups significance occurrences to make this flaw hardly noticeable anymore.

Nonetheless, tensity is one of the traits that makes watching Ultimate Survivor so intriguing the further one gets into it. This is not even taking into account the psychological attacks Kaiji takes to his character in said situations. Gambling in Ultimate Survivor is no joke; lives are constantly at risk of being lost, something Kaiji had to quickly persuade himself to adapt to. Each of the opponents Kaiji confronts with challenge his growth, while also exposing some of his newfound weaknesses. In the conceiving of Kaiji’s strategic logic that attempts to accommodate for such a fact, there’s always lingering doubt. As such, predictability never becomes a problem that spoils the entertainment of watching Kaiji’s tactics come into play. Even the slightest hint of predictability is used to Ultimate Survivor’s benefit in how it presents its narrative, which, sadly, I cannot detail without entering spoiler territory. The elaborate balancing of rising risks and depletion of merits in the mind games Kaiji so participates in maintain the series for as much as they can. They’re filled to the brim while constantly gaining possibilities of topping over. For the most part, it’s beneficial towards Ultimate Survivor’s goal in mind. The build-up in Kaiji’s shenanigans is sure to make his later ones all the more exciting.

The psychology of the mind games and of the participants who gamble is a frequent aspect of Ultimate Survivor’s narrative. It’s a given, considering how serious Ultimate Survivor can get with its premise of the human condition and gambles of life. However, Ultimate Survivor doesn’t delve itself further so much so into the psychoanalysis of opponents and their tactics. The complexity of strategies and convoluted plans to outwit one’s opponent is not where Ultimate Survivor strengths itself in. The mindset of opponents is taken in a rather simple approach, actually. The prevalent narrator, whether you find him irritating or charming, will be the one who occasionally proclaims to the audience what exactly is happening in the midst of the sweating and close-ups of the characters.

Instead, the mind games of Ultimate Survivor specialize themselves by each individually portraying a different side of the human nature under heavy pressure. For instance, the first game in which Kaiji is a participant of is a rendition of Rock-Paper-Scissors with vastly different rules. Many of the other participants show greed in their newly found chance of escaping debt, and gaining possible ecstasy. This, of course, eventually leads to selfish actions being performed. Betrayal, arrogance, and blinding of oneself are but some of the aspects explored in just the first arc. Likewise, these are just a few of the stepping stones to which Kaiji himself takes up in his descent to the depths of gambling. As the conditions get harsher on the road ahead, an experienced Kaiji’s morale will be confronted with many questions. With the utilization of Kaiji’s character, Ultimate Survivor’s intense narrative on humanity through its conveyance of simple card games never becomes dry or shallow.

It’s time to settle down the GAR praise for Kaiji… It should be acknowledged that side characters do indeed exist in Gyakkyou Burai Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor. And, quite frankly, they’re not much. At least in comparison to the amount of depth Kaiji himself carries. The characters in Ultimate Survivor aren’t written to be conventional characters. They’re written to be plot devices. Now, questionability of whether plot devices are indicative of the quality of writing is debatable. However, in the end of the day, all narratives have them in one way or another. And how exactly such devices are used to execute what the narrative desires are ultimately what determines substantial work. Ultimate Survivor is but a minor example of a work that utilizes its side characters as plot devices properly.

Side characters in Kaiji usually consist of a few correlating traits. Some of them are malicious, deceptive excuses for human beings. The opponents Kaiji faces usually contain some of the aforementioned traits. The usages of these minor antagonists are simple. They’re made to be against what specific mindset Kaiji has on at the moment, and to an extent, his ideals. Others are modest, fearful people that succumb to their distress. Such characters are the ones Kaiji becomes, unconsciously at times, sympathetic towards. Further characterization of both types of characters' actions are needed, and it times it even proves to be undesirable towards the ambition of Ultimate Survivor’s narrative. It would be a waste of time doing so. Everyone in it are simply humans who want to survive towards any means possible. Like Kaiji at times, opponents are humanized. Albeit not as gravely as him, the attribute still stands. In Kaiji’s sole road to the depths of gambling, relationships are but an afterthought. He can’t make any friends on this trip, even if he wants to. Instead, he simply has to take in what he observes in other people and live on for what they’ve left behind. With clever usage, Ultimate Survivor’s seemingly excuses for characters actually aids in keeping its narrative rich and profound.

Although I’ve stated most of the side characters lack any ground to stand upon, I feel the need to give an honorable mention towards a particular character: Yukio Tonegawa. Tonegawa is what could be considered one of the most prevalent antagonists in the first season of Ultimate Survivor. His presentation as such is straightforward. He’s the one you see overlooking participants or the one that’ll be giving out oppressive monologs as if they’re nothing. Eventually, however, his role as an antagonistic idealist is optimized towards the final arc. Hereafter is where Tonegawa’s character is wonderfully utilized for both thematic purposes and significant development in Kaiji. Yet, unlike usual side characters, Tonegawa’s bearing of motif usages is done greatly enough to actually make him stand out as his own thing, his own character. It makes for a little more spice being added in retrospect to Tonegawa’s speeches, and in return, the narrative once again. He even gets his own mini manga spin-off. A pretty cool guy he is, that Tonegawa.

Tonegawa, however, is not the only antagonistic force present in Ultimate Survivor. An overlooking Big Bad that lurks in the shadows of the games Kaiji participates in is a fulfilled necessity in Ultimate Survivor’s narrative. The Big Bad in question, contrary to what one would expect, isn’t as well-composed of a character as Kaiji. No further characterization or justification to the tortuous actions The Big Bad executes is ever explored beyond what’s presented. The guy’s just evil. Pure, despicable, evil. Yes, the old fart does provide Kaiji with philosophical ramblings, yet any basis from his own character as to what he’s blabbering on about is practically nonexistent. He’s just a villain straight out of the tritest tropes—and it works. The guy is practically a complete contrast to everything Kaiji holds dear. Whereas Kaiji had to suffer through various circumstances to get to the particular mindset he has now, The Big Bad simply blocks Kaiji in motion just for his own irrational entertainment gathered from an influence of arrogance he's had for far too long. Ultimate Survivor is in no need to give him a detailed backstory for his motivations, doing so would be incohesive to what to what it’s trying to achieve. In Kaiji’s journey, he’s the most dreaded figure of them all, the one representant of all the evils of humanity incarnate. Seeing him perform unfair actions in a sadistic manner only strengths the fuel towards rooting for Kaiji’s success. He’s made to be a loathable character for the very reason of developing Kaiji’s cause as a character even further. Characterization beyond that would ruin the integrity he holds to the narrative as the fat figure that eats on the sorrow of others with a plastered grin on his face. Ironically, the lack of any traits in the Big Bad beyond brutality makes Kaiji’s opposition to him all the more compelling.

Fukumoto has very particular art style in his works that you’ve probably come across once or a twice. Ultimate Survivor is no exception to this. Exaggerated noses, thick outlines, and arousing eyebrows are but few of the trademarks Fukumoto so holds. In Madhouse’s adaptation, the ludicrous character designs are adjusted to appear slightly sharper while still retaining their original charm. Some people, say, lovers of moe, may be put off by the obscure character designs Ultimate Survivor has to offer. But upon closer inspection, one shall realize that Ultimate Survivor might just transcend the capabilities that moe anime brings. The designs shouldn’t be treated as a distraction, quite the contrary actually. Fukumoto’s distinctive art style manages to captivate the show’s atmospheric motifs quite well. The rough faces of the characters on occasion work with the tensity of the series by displaying the ugly characteristics of humanity, so to speak. Frequently does Ultimate Survivor do close-ups of characters’ faces that showcase them anxiously sweating or, in the case of Kaiji, crying. Toppled with the absurdly inhumane situations the series plays with, it makes the series feel all the more bizarrely real with its often explicit connections to our society.

Other visual aspects of the series, unfortunately, aren’t all that grand, at least in comparison to the rest of what Kaiji offers. Nonetheless, they serve their conventional usage as tools to aid in the creating of mood and atmosphere that Ultimate Survivor so needs. Take visual directing for instance. Whenever Ultimate Survivor desires to display emoticons such as perplexion or anguish, it does so by putting its characters behind a cut of mesmerizing colors, usually red or purple. Or say a more avant-garde way of expressing character struggles wants to be made. Ultimate Survivor will simply display a visual analogy to what they’re facing, such as a character looking towards a road branching into two different paths. They’re pretty lackluster in what they want to present, due to how they can explicitly be a drag at times. Thankfully, Ultimate Survivor isn’t in an abundance of scenes like these. At times even, some interesting compositions are made in accordance to what’s folding out on screen. The usage of a melancholic color palette throughout the series, consisting of browns and blacks, as well dark lighting are also welcome additions in Ultimate Survivor’s visuals. While Madhouse seems to have put their most effort in the consistency of the character designs, they don’t completely disregard the other visual attributes of Ultimate Survivor. This results in a complete visual package with a few loose ends here and there that can easily be dismissed by all the GAR happening on screen.

The other technicality Ultimate Survivor should be noted for is its audio, which is much more consistent in quality compared to its visuals. Similar to Fukumoto’s obscure art style, a particular sound effect prevalent in his works is also a staple part of Ultimate Survivor’s charm. Often times, when Kaiji is in an uncomfortable situation, will the lingering whispers of “zawa zawa…” ( displayed as [ざわ] visually) be heard, which roughly translates to just that, an uncomfortable atmosphere. Accompanying them is the hype-inducing score that Ultimate Survivor so has. Pieces of Ultimate Survivor’s soundtrack compliment tensity well, and at times even the distress Kaiji so faces.

Ultimate Survivor doesn’t always rely on its soundtrack to create tension, though. In specific moments in which pure silence would be most desirable, the usage of music is omitted, leaving only the isolated voices of characters to be heard. And, boy, is it effective. The voice acting of Ultimate Survivor is by far some of the best in anime. It’s consistent with its capability to convey strong emotions as well as tone. Masato Hagiwara plays a brilliant Kaiji, displaying some of the rawest sentimentalities that greatly contribute in making an already excellent character all the more enticing. In similar regards, the VAs for Tonegawa and The Big Bad play the chilling vibes of their respective roles well. One of the more a more calmed variety, and the other of a more haunting one. Some of Ultimate Survivor’s more memorable moments all, coincidentally, share the trait of a silenced atmosphere waiting to be broken by the lines of characters. Ultimate Survivor’s audio truly make up for what some of its visual aspects lack.

After all the zawas, eccentric noses, and GAR gambling is finished, Ultimate Survivor is ultimately a very human narrative. A narrative that portrays a world of towering figures watching over those of lower status try their best in a meek attempt at surviving the cruelties of life. Many of the latter will fail, their falling serving as only fuel for the richs’ ego and discouragement for others behind them. There is no trace of justice in Ultimate Survivor, only selfish desires to rule on top of the fallen. Yet, despite all this, a challenger appears—Kaiji Itou. Overcoming all of those opposing him and his own flaws, Kaiji dares to find the last remaining pieces of hope beneath all his despair. And that’s what makes Ultimate Survivor such a timeless story. It shares many striking resemblances to ourselves as it sheds its faint light. But beneath all that lies hope, hope that we can better ourselves and those around us in many ways. It’s what makes Gyakkyou Burai Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor so great. Besides the aforementioned GAR, of course.

Family is a pretty big deal. It is undeniable that the very concept of a family is essential towards the development of an individual. Whether biological or not, whether caring or not, the influence of family will always be in a person. This is especially evident in the youth of a person, a time in which the experience of family is most present.

Clannad loves its family. It knows of the strong emotions that such familial experiences hold, whether it be nostalgia or sorrow. It knows of how sensitive the topic of family can be to certain individuals. And it knows that, by having its ... core theme revolve around family, it’ll be able to form a complete emotional connection with the viewer and it. As such, Clannad wants to be something meaningful, something beautifully profound. An aching desire to leave an emotional impact on unsuspecting viewers strives in Clannad’s inner narrative. To do so, Clannad will have to carry out its central theme through any means possible. The ranges from many additions in exterior connection with the viewer, such as the inclusion of high school friendships and the naivety of adolescence. The flame has been set by this point, Clannad’s continuously growing desire for depth is what drives its narrative forward. But, in the midst of doing so, Clannad will be blinded by such a desire and forget to do all the in betweens necessary to properly convey a message towards its viewers. Due to this, Clannad will crash halfway through its wild ride and completely shatter it’s ambitions into shards. Yet, Clannad will still be expecting of the viewer to step on those shards to invoke sentimentalities onto the viewer. This essentially leads to a narrative interwoven with inconvincible situations, tiring redundancy, inconsistent characters, disappointment, and dangos...

The first few minutes of Clannad stand out in terms of quality from the rest of its duration. Simply put, it does what an opening sequence strives on being. In just a short amount of time, Clannad’s opening intro delivers adequate characterization and setting in enough time to let the viewers know what they’ll be diving into. A nihilistic monolog is presented from the main character, Tomoya Okazaki, as he nihilistically rambles on about how he has a melancholic loathing towards his city— and himself. He does so while walking, nihilistically, in a monotonous world delivered by the stunning visual directing. Upon walking towards a steady hill, Tomoya encounters the main heroine, Nagisa Furukawa. In doing so the visuals themselves abruptly change as color fills the screen with the accompanying blossom of surrounding sakura trees. Tomoya utters a hopeful line contradictive of his monolog to the coy Nagisa and proceeds to walk to school alongside her.

From the opening scene onwards, it is clear that Clannad sets itself up to be centered around Tomoya. Essentially being the perspective character, the development of the narrative of Clannad is likewise dependent on Tomoya’s development. With the usage of such a means of storytelling lies an abundance of potential for greatness. This is a cynical Tomoya’s story, the story of his weak, yet hopeful state of adolescence influenced by family matters. An ample reason is given for the viewers to care about Tomoya’s life crisis. Seemingly, he’s what would be considered a delinquent, skipping classes and not giving the slightest care for things. But beneath that characterization of Tomoya lies a desire to change, a desire to live once again the life he’s wanted to live. This, in return, makes Clannad’s chances of failing as a narrative completely slim. I mean, there’s no way you can make a mess of the ongoing building of potential that lies inside the surface of the storytelling. Except you can, and Clannad ultimately does so by biting off more than it can chew. This results in a complete opening of the narrow chance of failure that later invites disillusionment as to what Clannad is trying to achieve.

In order to fully delve into as to why Clannad is utterly lacking in its storytelling, some contextual background must be acknowledged. The Clannad anime is a mere adaptation of an already existing work, a visual novel developed by the studio Key. A majority of visual novels tell much of their stories in a nonlinear manner, usually due to interactive factors such as the selection of choices. As such, many visual novels branch themselves into different heroine routes, all told from the perspective character’s view. In them, all the required further characterization and growth for that specific heroine is filled in as the perspective character equally develops more throughout.

Anime, however, mostly has a linear means of storytelling due to it’s more visual format. Completely adapting a visual novel would be a laborious task to do in an adequate manner. In accommodation to this, Kyoani has decided to merge a multitude of the heroine routes present in the Clannad visual novel into one elaborate common route. Clannad branches routes that would have been their own thoroughly developed stories into variable arcs. Yet, it does all does while still having its central female character focus being on Nagisa. Obviously, Nagisa is still meant to be the main love interest for Tomoya underneath all these other arcs, what with all the emphasized focus on her. It is at this point that the accommodations for an adaptation become an apparent hindrance towards its intended effect. For what Clannad’s narrative is trying to achieve in simplicity, these factors make Clannad be unnecessarily convoluted in structure. It’s trying to develop a heroine in a way suitable towards Nagisa’s presence. It’s trying to simultaneously focus on Nagisa during the process as well. It’s also trying to develop its ongoing theme of family, hoping to get some feelings out of the viewer. And it’s also trying it’s best to make Tomoya’s actions more explicable due to the lack of first person narration. An abundance of focus on various narrative aspects is placed for Clannad’s desired achievement as an adaptation, whether they be minor or impactful. In its attempt at trying to be a faithful, yet unique work on its own, Clannad ultimately fails. It misses one of the most simple necessities needed to easily avoid incoherence in storytelling: having a thread that’ll connect all the narrative aspects in one way or another.

Admittedly, Nagisa’s initial introduction in the series is not the most convincing way in terms of showcasing character. She shouts “Anpan!” in a quirky manner to cheer herself up. She’s incredibly coy and modest, usually being the victim of uncalled for embarrassment. She has an obsession for fictional dangos stylized in a childish manner. Essentially, Nagisa isn’t exactly a textbook example of a well-written female character. Clannad defines Nagisa on a single archetype, and that’s prosperous levels of modesty and shyness. Such a trait is clearly meant to hook in moe fans and those looking for the mythical “feels”. But, beneath all these deliberate attempts at Clannad trying to form an emotional connection with the viewer via Nagisa’s portrayed endearment, not much awaits in terms of further depth. This isn’t to say no other attempt at making you care for Nagisa’s troubles is made, there are, albeit minimal. She has a charismatic family and a desire to restore her drama club, circumstances are set in place. But, none of these attributes are conveyed in a serious enough way for me to actually care about her possible futile actions. It’s all just sugarcoated with Jun Maeda’s idea of emotional setup.

For the romance tag that Clannad supposedly has, the handling of Tomoya and Nagisa’s relationship isn’t compelling either. During Clannad’s beginning, the way in which Tomoya interacts with Nagisa is, at the very least, promising. A reclusive Tomoya notices an equally distant Nagisa sitting in solitude under the shade of a surrounding tree, a well-rounded set up for a potentially endearing relationship. Tomoya proceeds to make some small-talk with the vessel of modesty that is Nagisa throughout his days, forming a well and good dynamic. It becomes distinguishably lacking, however, when the mildly interesting conversations they have turn Tomoya’s character into an inexplicable blob of motivations that randomly tags along with whatever Nagisa commends his subconscious to do immediately after the first episode. For instance, the aforementioned desire for restoring the drama club intrigues Tomoya. He wants to be beside the aid of Nagisa in the reconstruction of this lost hope.

Now, the exact reason as to why he wants to isn’t ever flat out portrayed. Sure, one could assume Tomoya is doing this for his own good too, but Clannad never provides me with enough hints towards that definitive assumption. After the first episode, Tomoya just becomes a character who spouts random lines of encouragement towards other people before being a retorting gadfly. Sometimes he shows what could be considered emotions, but I’m sure such instances were the result of a fever dream. Most of the time, Tomoya would be just slightly better than your typical VN protagonist. A complementation towards Tomoya’s character cast via Nagisa’s influence isn’t even portrayed in a way that would be supportive of Tomoya’s actions, making both Nagisa all the more dumbed down due to the result of Clannad being unable to transition moods within Tomoya.

Despite being the main heroine, Nagisa’s cast off as something akin to a background character, even when she’s around with Tomoya. Their interactions aren’t by any means unique in comparison to the other girls who want to get in Tomoya’s pants. With the interactions provided, many of the other heroines would have made for much more distinguishable love interest than Nagisa. Clannad simply doesn’t make Nagisa stand out as the main girl that she supposedly is, and that’s a flaw you can’t just cover up with the mundane conversations of awkwardness that the two have. A simple exchange between Tomoya and Nagisa will, half of the time, involve Nagisa meekly saying something in subtle hopes of Tomoya approving her. Although, despite all this, the surrounding circumstances of Nagisa are in favor of justification for Tomoya’s infatuation. She’s the only heroine whose family Tomoya interacts with the most, which is incidentally built up from his own familial circumstances he’s been in. But, once again, that is not Nagisa’s character that Tomoya becomes attached to. This just makes Nagisa feel like a separate attachment towards Tomoya’s character instead of giving her a stance. And that does not make their relationship compelling in the slightest.

Yet, for what it’s worth, an attempt at developing the two is made. The recurrence of the drama club is a significant point in the first season of Clannad. It is representative of Nagisa’s hopes and dreams that she could not have achieved beforehand. It is representative of Tomoya’s desire of wanting to build a new state of adolescence. It is the thematic climax of the first season of Clannad, the scene that all the previous scenes have built upon to deliver that final emotional impact before moving onto an after story. Of course, such a scene would be important.

But, an obstacle stands in the way of making the restoration of the drama club an effective plot point. The merging of heroine arcs in between Clannad tarnish whatever connectivity and impact Nagisa and Tomoya’s relationship had left. No, not because the inclusion of a new female character catches Tomoya’s fancy or anything ludicrous like that. It’s more because putting greater emphasis on a specific arc puts all of the other, more important goals on the sidelines. An equal exchange to make up for this, however, is not made. Instead, what Clannad strives to achieve with the heroine arcs is based more around further sentimentalities to milk out those tears in you. Powered by Jun Maeda’s Wild Ride™, the arcs are very well indeed what one would consider a crushing experience. A wild, formulaic experience that later amounts to nothing in proportion to their incidental impact and length.

The division of arcs throughout Clannad can be easily narrowed down into several, sequential steps. Tomoya encounters an eccentric girl coincidentally while being with Nagisa. Tomoya musters up some resolve in him to help said girl, in the process of making sly retorts to them. Tomoya starts observing the girl in a more serious manner, taking note of some random attributes in them. Then, the anticipated drama occurs, where Tomoya will be standing right next to these suffering heroines while having a straight expression in his face. Essentially, the fundamentals that nakige visual novels are built upon.

Now, formulaic aspects in storytelling shouldn’t by any means be discarded as terrible. If used effectively, it can make for an exceptionally developed narrative. Clannad, unfortunately, does not make use of this potential. Jun Maeda’s conceived formula of breaking down little girls becomes a peccable one when the expectations of the viewer reacting in the exact same manner as the first time is put into place. It would at the very least be fine if such a method only existed in one or two arcs. However, it becomes evident that the very formula’s presence can be noticed throughout, not just the arcs, but the layout of Clannad as a whole.

The first half of the “feels” formula Clannad so follows involves the usage of scenes equivalent to that of slice of life. Such scenes have a goal in mind; relieve the audience from the possibility of incoming desperation as well as introducing the character. It’s a pretty simple goal which can, in minimal, be reached at surface level. Just show the characters having dynamic interactions that’ll slowly build up on characterization preceding events. Clannad, however, takes a different approach to what could have saved it in in the long run. Instead of actually introducing heroines in an intriguing manner, Clannad decides it wants to introduce its characters with exaggerations of archetypes and attributes. Fuko and Kotomi are the biggest offenders of this. For instance, the singular characteristic of Fuko is her childish demeanor. She’s excessively short, renditioned with a high pitched voice, spouts some endearing lines, goes into trances of cuteness, and has a liking to starfishes that is akin to that of fetishism. Basically, a child all over. Except she’s in high school.

The interactions between the characters in the midst of this do not help either. A majority of the time will the progression of the arc be overshadowed by the amount of repetitive comedic dialogue Tomoya and his friends carry out. Half of the time, Clannad’s take on comedy will be having the butt monkey character, Sunohara, fly off into oblivion as we’re expected to laugh at his misery. The other half involves Tomoya getting in situations in which he’s shown as a lovable jerk, such as teasing his fellow classmates before getting hit by his violent tsundere friend. At times, these situations are admittedly mildly interesting, mostly thanks to the amplitude in animation and voice work put in. Although when Clannad isn’t portraying comedy, it’s portraying a hint of what seems to be arc progression. Yet, despite some meek progression occurring, not much dynamism is felt from any of these scenes. Sure, Tomoya aids in the frolicking of classmates while being tagged with a nonexistent Nagisa. But then again, there’s barely enough subtlety to indicate further motivations and characterization. Changes in character aren’t to be expected, resulting in Tomoya keeping that smug personality of his throughout arcs and arcs. The heroines in question that he partakes action with are, incidentally, never redefined throughout the sections of mediocrity their arcs contain as well. This is a flaw that is taken much into effect when a conceivable setting and portrayal of character is essential in some of the proceeding scenes of impact.

After having spent an ample amount of time at attempts toward character attachment, Clannad decides it’s time to start breaking things senselessly. The action of breaking Clannad so does is done in an abrupt manner. Clannad treats the viewer as a child as if it were giving them a balloon, only to then pop it right in their face as it expects you to cry and receive something out of the deed just bestowed upon you.

I’ll be using Fuko as a predominant embodiment of Clannad’s drama via characters, so bear with me. During Clannad’s SOL, Fuko’s levels of moe are filled up to the brim. You see her carrying starfishes all over the place to random pedestrians. You see her cute expressions being highlighted by her childish performance. At this point, Clannad expects you to want to hug Fuko. It wants you to want to protect her and care about her— but only because she’s cute and nothing more. As more dramatic revelations come into play for her character, we’re expected to fawn in anguish over the trouble this character goes through. Even though the very troubles she’s facing aren’t highlighted in any part of the character portrayed. It’ll be evident when an instance of this occurs in Clannad, as sentimental music will start playing with an accompanying shift in art direction. There might even be some characters crying or uttering of some lines of supposed depth to really capitalize on those external feelings Clannad expects you to feel. All tied together with the ongoing theme of family. Yet, Clannad was so focused on emotional buildup, that it forgot the necessary narrative build up to even make its ambitions work.

The aftermath of such scenes furthers their faults when taking into account how much effort was placed into making them impactful. Nagisa, and especially Tomoya, don’t really develop both in terms of relationship and individual character from their aiding of Fuko to Fuko’s breaking point. Not that they were especially active in their involvement beforehand. Dramatic scenes and the ones Clannad does are not ones in which characters should essentially be static afterwards. Sure, they get a new acquaintanceship and maybe a new experience, but beyond that, not much occurs. Even Fuko, the central character that the drama revolves around, doesn’t change. Yeah, her problems are solved, but she’s still that moeblob that Clannad originally set her as. Maybe she’s more or less moe, but such a trait cannot be observed as she’s put on the narrative bus all supporting characters go to.

This leaves for the dropping of the ball to be a reoccurring phenomenon in Clannad’s narrative. For instance, many of the SOL of scenes could have used implementation of genuine dialogue between characters. This would’ve made for much clearer motivations towards Tomoya, as well as the addition of more distinguishable characters beyond the trait that pertains to them. Simultaneously, this would have furthered the buildup towards the awaiting dramatic scenes. A more sensitive Tomoya would be more reactive towards the little girls surrounding him. Which in return would have made for more phenomenal development towards Tomoya. The Tomoya in the Clannad anime develops in terms of slowly breaking that cynical core inside him, but nothing more. A more reactive Tomoya would’ve been much more complementing to his character as it would have invoked a desire for Tomoya to want to change himself from the circumstances of those around him. Each individual scene improving Tomoya’s traits more than the last, in the specifics of what each scene thematically revolved around. Additionally, this could’ve also been used on Nagisa with similar influences, making the formulaic structure of Clannad work more towards what it’s aiming for.

As a cinematic form of media, Clannad is noteworthy in its exceptionality in terms of visuals that detail much more meaning than what’s presented. Simply saying Clannad’s visual directing is top notch would be an understatement. The composition of scenes is arguably one of the best parts in Clannad as a whole, detailing an array of sentimentalities that Clannad fails at bringing with its actual narrative. Transitions of scenes and character dialogue at times are done in a brilliant naturally flowing manner as well, even during the mundane sections of Clannad. On an animated note, the movement of characters is done captivatingly realistically in contrast to the actual characterization beneath. Changes of facial expressions in accordance with changes in characters’ environments as well as body language conveying relationships between characters are a visual treat to watch. The aforementioned Sunohara is a great example of this; just look at any scene he’s in and sakuga will accompany him. Clannad’s visuals are truly one of the few saving graces it has going towards it not being terrible, and honestly, it’s the only reason I’ve kept going for 20 episodes.

Despite all my nitpicking, Clannad still managed to gain a thriving reputation. Frankly, it’s clear as to why it's so. All the aspects in the show are made with the deliberate intention of changing the moods of an individual. Not to mention it’s constant fuel of shoehorned-in meaning, it’s easy to see how Clannad would impact the average viewer. What with it’s ramping of effort in every possible way with its drama, easing of the aftermath with slice of life, sensitive themes of family and hope, treatful visuals, and its exaggerated personas of characters. All of Clannad’s attempts towards impact are cohesive in that structural format of superficiality. It’s designed to make you cry, and in that sense its design is noteworthy. Something has to be taken out all of this in the process, though, and that’s an equally cohesive narrative. As of now, Clannad provides a framework of emotions that is devoid of any narrative substance in it. Disappointment is a more proper term for the sentimentality that Clannad left me behind with.

“Candy carries the taste of happiness. If you suck on it, a flower will bloom in your mouth.” - Kagura Hinata

Well, let’s just say for me that watching H2O: Footprints in the Sand wasn’t equivalent to the supposed taste of happiness that H2O describes candy as having, rather it was like the equivalent of sucking on a lemon in hopes of trying to get some sweetness out of it.

Footprints in the Sand introduces us to a blind protagonist, Takuma Hirose, who got enrolled into a new high school in a rural area after certain circumstances. Being blind, Hirose asks what he assumes to be a ... fellow high school student for directions, who coldly responds so. Once there, Hirose finds himself to be the talk of all the girls in his class, specifically from one who introduces herself as Kagura Hinata, and while ignoring them Takuma notices that student that guided him to school, Kohinata Hayami. But something seems off… Kohinata is highly reclusive and is looked down upon by many of the students in her class, even the teacher at times. Hirose, being a curious person, decides to confront Kohinata several times, only to then be abruptly stopped by some of the students in her class. As Hirose slowly gets more used to his new life in the rural lands, he starts learning more about Kohinata and those surrounding her, starting the beginning of H2O.

Being based on an eroge, H2O is presented as a drama romance with harem elements in a straightforward way. Boy enters high school, every girl in the high school circles him, boy “accidentally” gets in a perverted situation with a girl, boy becomes interested in one girl, drama ensues. H2O is fairly promising in this aspect, as the main girl in question actually seems to be an interesting character, a cold person who distances themselves from others to not get hurt, and the MC himself seems to have something that happened in the past that built some of the ideologies he seemingly has. Likewise, the village in the story and its villagers are rather mysterious as the history of these things is the foundation for the events in the story. All of these things are the set up of what could be a good romance, however, H2O sadly did not use any of the potential it had in a good way.

H2O heavily relies on the use of flashbacks and memories to tell it’s backstories, which is fine and all on its own. What’s not fine is just outright stating what happened without really ever going into exact detail of what happened. Sure, we know that this and that happened, but what caused this and that to even occur? The use of memories, in this case, feels like just a way to just force in the backstories of certain characters, which ends in the said characters lacking any proper depth. An example being Hirose; he has certain motives from his past that don’t fit in with his character in the present, sometimes even straying away from them. Many times will H2O do this to its side characters for a quick jab at the viewer’s heart and to put the main characters in the situations they are in. Some side characters don’t even become relevant anymore, heck one doesn’t even appear after her debut episode. And it doesn’t help that nearly all the backstories are almost exactly the same thing. The only character who’s coherent in this aspect is Kagura Hinata and Kohinata Hayami, but even the latter strays into a hollow shell of their former self to join her fellow cast of cardboard cutouts.

On the development of characters, H2O being a drama uses a ton of drama to create scenes. Portrayed in an unconventional manner, H2O’s drama is commonly done out of the whim of certain characters and by outside forces. Characters will be acting calm one second only to later scream at each other's faces and punching each other the next. Characters will be walking down the road together holding hands only to be stopped by an antagonistic force out of force. The former make the character’s dilemmas feel incredibly cringy, unrealistic, and just as a means for shock value. and the later lacks any of the proper characterization to even make a dramatic scene meaningful. What’s worse though is that characters will develop from the aftermath of the drama only to later cause more drama from the same exact reasons, making the development feel nonexistent, especially in the case of Kohinata near the end of the series. Coupled with an antagonist who is “evil” just because, the drama in H2O feels forced and meaningless.

Speaking of meaningless things, H2O here tries telling us many themes and moral. However, such themes and morals are carelessly juggled around, making H2O a whole mess in that department. H2O tries telling us a story about atonement, acceptance, bullying, legacy, pressure from family, being one’s true self, regrets, so many things and they’re all incoherent. Never once does H2O properly develop its themes with its story, it just throws them around out loud without every really taking much effect. And to make matters worse, H2O tries throwing in inexplicable supernatural phenomenon to make its story having some kind of deep meaning similar to stories past, but utterly fails, coming off as something out of place, especially in the case of the waste that is episode 8. Despite this, H2O doesn’t stop and ends itself by still having some supernatural phenomenon that, I assume is supposed to give me emotional feelings, but just ends up giving me an irritated feeling at the sight of a deus ex machina thing occurring. It just… ruins any sense of realism I’m supposed to feel from its themes…

Overall, H2O: Footprints in the Sand is just another eroge anime adaption that doesn’t end up being anything special in the end. Side characters are underdeveloped, and main characters turn into atrocities after senseless drama. Any theme H2O tries conveying is ruined by its means of storytelling, and it’s ending comes off as sadly unsatisfying and abrupt. H2O is not worth the watch if you’re looking for a good romance or drama, but if you’re looking for a laughable drama or a way to waste time, H2O is a decent choice. That, and it has a pretty damn good trap...

While looking through the lineup of Winter 2016 anime, I came across a title that struck out a bit more than the others, Kono Subarashii Sekai ni Shukufuku wo! It didn’t strike out because of it’s originality or innovative description, but because it looked so awfully generic that it just seemed downright offensive, to me at least. Just from the cover art alone, I assumed the series was just gonna be another otaku-transported-to-another-world-with-a-harem anime with some pandering to the otaku audience that soaks in all those light novel adaptions, animated by Deen this time around.

Nonetheless, I still reluctantly tried out Konosuba (as I will call ... it from now on). So, was I right about Konosuba? Look, my rating tells you otherwise. I couldn’t have been more wrong about Konosuba. It was one the best of comedies I’ve ever seen.

Story/Narrative - Konosuba is not a serious show. Konosuba knows this, and it uses this to its benefit to become enjoyable. Right from the get go, we get to know Konosuba’s style. It’s a light, slapstick, self-parodying, raw comedy.

In the first episode, our beloved otaku MC dies from a panic attack of possibly getting hit by a car. Oh, and he also pissed his pants afterwards.

Luckily, MC-kun, Kazuma, gets transported to the afterlife in where he meets an arrogant goddess who really gets on Kazuma's nerves. Said goddess, Aqua, tells Kazuma that he can get transported to a fantasy world in which he has to defeat a supposed demon king, your typical fantasy set up. Kazuma agrees but on certain conditions. Kazuma tells Aqua that she has to go along with him, to which Aqua whines in return saying that said action is impossible as the rules of the afterlife world work against her transporting her with Kazuma. Kazuma and Aqua, along with their future comrades, must now fight the demon king of their new fantasy world. Oh, but they’re weak and piss-poor, so they aren’t gonna be able to do said thing in a while.

Konosuba could have just been another fantasy anime with a quirky setup, but no, it had to be something different, and I mean that in a good way. By the end of the introductory episode and the later episodes that follow it, it is clear that Konosuba is a comedy. A comedy that parodies the fantasy genre. And it’s a damn good one at that. Konosuba pokes at fantasy and light novel tropes, harem antics, and anime in general. Action scenes are anticlimactic. Our protagonists are absolutely terrible at what they do. Pacing is slow because of its episodic nature. All of this wouldn’t efficiently work in a serious show, but it does in a comedy like Konosuba, and Konosuba knows it and doesn’t ever try to be what it’s parodying in a serious manner, or turning into something it's not.

Konosuba could have just established itself as a parody of the fantasy genre, and it would be fine, it would have been great, but Konosuba takes a step further by actually excelling as just a general comedy. Sure, pre-established knowledge from the viewer would make the show more enjoyable, but Konosuba would still manage to deliver the punches to them. A majority of Konosuba’s comedy is character-based, usually revolving around characters reacting to certain situations created by the world around them, or by themselves. However, Konosuba doesn’t just shove jokes down your throat telling you to laugh at them. Konosuba develops its jokes enough for the punchlines to really be punchlines. Dialogue doesn’t just come out of a character to make a “forced joke” from their singular archetype. Subtlety is there, whether it be on the characters or set up around them. Even when Konosuba does pull its punches, it still managed to give at least me a sincere smile by having characters have a natural flow of conversation that isn’t necessarily meant to have you laugh as much as it’s main gags. The only thing I have a gripe on, and it’s a really minor and forgivable one, is that the gags don’t have some multiple layers of narrative to them (See: Gintama), or, at least, don’t seem to have. But, hey, comedies are meant to be enjoyed as something you can turn off your mind to, and Konosuba doesn’t get any complaints from me in that aspect.

Characters- I mentioned that Konosuba as a character-driven comedy in those last few lines. That alone would make it a good comedy, albeit not an excellent one. Character comedies have to have interesting, likable, relatable characters that we can look into and laugh, not because they’re laughing or because what’s going around them is intentionally absurd, but because their reactions come off as genuine. And Konosuba does a great job with this by not just having characters be based on a single character type and laughing off at them because they’re ‘awkward’.

Kazuma, our MC-kun, serves as the straight man in a series where he’s surrounded by idiots, as he calls them. Kazuma’s reactions to the rest of his team are cynical, usually responding in annoyed fashions, typical of the archetype he’s based on. Kazuma takes a step further from this archetype, though. Kazuma occasionally comes off as an actually fun guy who takes things actually takes leisurely, sometimes even contributing to some of the stupidities his cast makes. For instance, Kazuma is the backbone of many of the series’s best gags, at least for me. And Kazuma's transitions in mood aren’t paced awfully quickly in which they seem so out of character, it just seems natural, as I’ve said before. Kazuma easily ranked up there in some of my favorite male characters.

Kazuma’s harem, which thankfully isn’t developed as such, is as enjoyable as the main man himself. Aqua, that whiny goddess I was describing earlier, could have been your typical tsundere, all the signs in the first episode pointed towards that, but she’s not. Aqua still retains her mighty arrogance whenever it’s convenient for her, but she still mutually likes our dear Kazuma, even if it’s sometimes equivalent to a dog begging their owner for food. Also being our local butt monkey, Aqua occasionally receives the short end of the stick on some occasions. But, Konosuba doesn’t just characterize Aqua as just that and pack it’s bags to leave, though. Aqua manages to have her moments where she’s enjoyable to watch, not as a butt monkey, but as an actual character. Megumin, a future comrade who appears on the front page of /r/anime everyday, and Darkness, a masochistic tank, are also similar in this fashion but are definitely distinguishable as unique characters in their own right. Megumin, for instance, is instantly memorable as the chuunibyou magic mage who specializes in explosion magic. Darkness’s masochistic behaviour around her enemies adds an interesting twist to battles, without managing to be too fanservicey. Konosuba treats them the same as Aqua, the jokes don’t just revolve around their traits and that’s just it, it actually manages to be unique with its jokes occasionally instead of just recycling the same concepts over and over again, and that’s what I love about Konosuba.

Art/Sound - Konosuba, having been animated by Studio Deen, doesn’t look absolutely beautiful. This isn’t to insult Deen, they’ve actually done an amazing job on the visual spectrum and more in another show during the same season, Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu, but I digress. This doesn’t hinder Konosuba’s quality, though, no, it even improves it I’d say. Konosuba’s animation is a little bit more on the loose side, some might even say it looks cartoony. But it fits the style of the show. Konosuba doesn’t need amazing art, all it needs is just a good, quality jokes. The supposed Deen style of the show actually makes some jokes funnier than they would be have been if they were made by another studio, which is actually something I found to be refreshing.

That being said, Konosuba does have some good backgrounds and colors. Light colored surroundings fit the cheerful mood of the show. Moreover, character designs are actually pretty nice, being a little detailed here and there, and are coherent in color scheme, which is something that particularly stood out for me. And, since I’m on characters, I should also note that the seiyuu have done an outstanding job portraying their characters, especially in a show where delivery is one of the main factors to making a joke stick. Kazuma’s seiyuu, Jun Fukushima, does a brilliant job shifting between straight man to zany fun. It’s also worth mentioning that Megumin’s seiyuu, Rie Takahashi, is fairly new to the industry but nonetheless does a remarkable and promising performance. “Kazuma desu” and Megumin’s cries of explosion will forever be imprinted in my memories.

Overall - Konosuba is an excellent comedy that is definitely worth watching. It’s characters, premise, seiyuu, and art all come together to make quality gags. While the humour is not for everyone, and the plot and characters lack depth, those who accept the experience Konosuba will bring will be ready for one of the better comedies in anime. My Wednesday's will truly not be the same without the gift that was Konosuba.
8/10

Light novel adaptions are a weird thing. Sometimes they’re incredibly rushed by trying to put so much information into so little time. Sometimes they're incredibly slow and take their time, doing absolutely nothing interesting in their time span. I came into Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dance knowing this, without having any high expectations for the show. Did my moderate expectations bring disappointment? No, not quite, but Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dance certainly didn’t completely live up to them.

Blade Dance takes place in a world where humans can become spirit contractors that use “spirits” for things such as battling. However, only young girls can ... become spirit contractors. As such, an academy exists for these young, special ojousamas to train and sharpen their abilities as a spirit contractor. One day, our typical male protagonist, Kamito, meets with a naked young girl who he assumes is a loli at first, but is later shocked to find out that she’s 16. This naked young girl proudly declares herself as Claire Rouge and states that she’s looking around to find a stronger spirit to form a contract with. Kamito decides to follow along with Claire, but “accidentally” forms a contract with her intended spirit instead. Kamito must now attend the all girls academy with his supposed new attribute of being the only male spirit contractor in a while.

So basically your typical setup for a harem anime.

But is this necessarily bad? No, not always. In the case of Blade Dance, however, it never really makes a stance of itself. Blade Dance never evolves as something more than average, but it never deteriorates itself into something remarkably offensive, or into something that’s bottom of the barrel.

Blade Dance has something going for it, and that’s it’s world-building, but it never managed to catch my complete interest. Blade Dance throws around some past events. which most characters seem to be connected to, and various concepts of the act of being a spirit contractor as well as some shady antagonists who do seem to have an end goal and motivation, but that’s all it does. It just throws them around, it never really expands on any of this, essentially serving the purpose of just filling up some empty space that might be in the world-building. Which is a shame, since if expanded upon and executed wisely, it would have been a pretty good anime.

Instead of ever elaborating on some plot points, Blade Dance instead primarily focuses characterization of its main character, several harem members, and a few minor characters who play some roles behind the scenes, and to be honest, it actually does a pretty decent job. Most notably, Claire Rouge, the main girl of the anime, starts off as a typical tsundere archetype only for the anime to later delve deeper into her character, showing her motivations and thought process, and finally develops her into a decent character who actually learns from her mistakes. Kamito, the main protagonist, doesn’t really change much during the duration of episode 1 to 12, but we do learn that this man has some regrets in his life that he definitely wants to either forget or fix. Other characters start similarly as archetypes like Claire and change a little to stand out more than tsundere #142, and others simply stay as archetypes and nothing more.

This isn’t to say Blade Dance doesn’t have one big narrative because it does. And it goes back to the world-building. Our main character wants a wish granted for whatever reason, whether it’s to fix something in the past or gain some new desires. To get this wish granted, he must participate in a tournament known as the “Blade Dance” (hence the title of the anime)

The Blade Dance itself, however, doesn’t really ever become relevant until the near end of the anime.The entire anime itself feels like an entire set up for the rest of the story, even ending a rather large opening ending that feels like the beginning of something greater. The 12 episodes of Blade Dance are, essentially, a blueprint for the rest of the events that lead up after the anime, basically screaming out “Want to join these characters’ adventures more? Buy the light novels now!”

So, does Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dance work as an advertisement for the light novels? It does a rather decent job, I’d say.

After having watched the first two seasons of Shakugan no Shana, it was safe to say I became an avid fan of Shana. So, of course, I had hopes for it’s third and final season. Having noticed the third season received more poor reception than it’s predecessors, my hopes dropped down. However, I still kept going, thinking I could make it work.
I couldn’t make it work.

Story/Narrative - Final starts us off right where the second season left us, or rather the aftermath of the second season’s cliffhanger. Yuji seems to have disappeared right before he was able to choose between Yoshida and Shana, and now ... the rest of the cast is trying to confirm his status and where he is. However, this is only for the first few episodes, afterwards, we get the sudden plot development that the reason Yuji was gone was because he formed a contract with a being known as the Snake of the Festival or the God of Creation. This wouldn’t be as bad if this God of Creation wasn’t the leader of our main cast’s antagonistic team whose plans they been thwarting for the past two seasons, Bal Masqué. With this sudden realization, Shana and the gang must now oppose the person they once knew, Yuji Sakai.

Shakugan no Shana Final’s plot can be described in one word: rushed. Right from the beginning of the season, we get the abrupt development that Yuji is no longer the Yuji that was slowly and carefully developed throughout in the past two seasons, he is now a completely new character with new mindsets and goals. How Yuji met the Snake of the Festival and agreed to his contract affirmatively is never thoroughly explained, or explained at all. This isn’t the only time the series doesn’t explain things, though, throughout the entire duration of the season important plot points that would be convenient with understanding the story and what's going on are either just casually brought up once, or never even shined upon. Now, this wouldn’t be as bad if there was at least enough context to make it ambiguous to the viewers, but there isn’t. Sudden changes in plot development are inevitable because of this, making them only work as a form of shock value and nothing else. Furthermore, towards the end of the series, Shakugan no Shana realizes it has to have a theme and it cops this out by having an extremely trite, and dare I say cringey one. The ending completely leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth as it feels like it’s disregarding some of the themes presented in the previous seasons and aiming for a more out of character ending. The only redeemable thing about Shakugan no Shana Final’s plot is that it keeps you mildly entertained as to what’s gonna happen for a while, until it becomes incredibly stretched out and mundane shortly afterward. 2/10

Characters- For better or worse, Final has to rush through its characters’ development just like its plot. As stated before, all of Yuji’s character development from the previous seasons is completely disregarded in place for a pretentious antagonist. One would hope that at least some parts of Yuji’s original character would still be intact in his now hollow shell, but nope, he’s no longer Yuji. Shana, completely confused by the sudden development, tries to self-identify herself as always. And, to be perfectly honest, her development is handled rather decently, almost appreciable in fact. If it wasn’t for her having to quickly move along with the plot, she would be one of my favorite characters. Wilhelmina as well is the final character to at least get some decent conclusion to her character, which was nice see considering she was my favorite. Other characters, such as Yoshida and Margery, are put on the bus until the plot absolutely demands them to come back, and completely rushes their development to the point where it’s unnoticeable. It’s also important to note that a significant amount of characters are introduced in this season, such as multiple important Tomogara/Denizens and Flame Hazes. These characters are never fully established upon, they’re just there. Some have implied motivations and goals, but like Final’s plot points, they’re never clearly explained. The pacing skipping most of these characters’ development and characterization completely kills any emotional depth these characters are supposed to have, ruining several sentimental scenes, which this season contains several of. Besides a few handful, most of the characters in Final aren’t ever developed with enough context to ever get to the point past bland. 3/10

Art/Animation - Shakugan no Shana isn’t known for having spectacular animation, and this stays true in Final. For an anime made in 2011, it doesn’t very look “modern”, looking more like one made in 2007. Although if J.C. Staff did this for the sake of keeping the integrity of it’s previous seasons, I applaud them. The fight scenes, which this season contains a ton of, could have used a bit more budget, but I digress. Shana still has that beautiful Flame Haze hair, and off models aren’t an uncommon occurrence. Final’s animation stayed relatively the same compared to its predecessors. 5/10

Sound- The soundtrack of Shakugan no Shana is reminiscent of it’s previous seasons, meaning there’s not any particular BGM that completely stands out as something one would listen to on it;s own, but do they do fit the mood really well most of the time. As for the OPs and EDs, “Light My Fire” by KOTOKO is my particular favorite, as I feel it completely fits the situations and whatever moods that Final is trying to achieve. The EDs, “One” and “I’ll Believe” by ALTIMA are also pretty good, as they fade into the last few seconds of every episode they’re in as an attempt to try to hype up the next episode. As for the seiyuu, they do a good job voicing their characters as always, but I really gotta hand it down to Rie Kugimiya as Shana for nailing the impact of some of her lines, really great job there. 7/10

Enjoyment - Entering with high expectations, I tried to enjoy Final as much as I could, despite how bad it started. Once I realized that it had a bit of a big downfall, I was disappointed, which definitely clouded my enjoyment of the show. I never really wanted an episode to end, but I never really felt a need to watch the next one, albeit in the beginning I had some aspirations for the show to get better, but that never came, making the rest of Final a rather mundane experience that was just there to waste 24 minutes. 5/10

Overall- Shakugan no Shana Final is a disappointment. It’s clearly trying to achieve something with it’s significant cast of characters and big 180 plot, but it completely fails in doing so by trying to fit so much into just 24 episodes. In return for the development of a handful of characters, Final has to discard the complete development of a couple characters and not explain several character actions and plot points. Shana fans should beware of Final’s flaws when watching it. People who have previously hated the past two seasons might find comedic value in the complete trainwreck that Final brings. And, as for people who just want to finish the Shana trilogy… well, the ending results are decent. Someone please tell me if the light novels at least did a better job... 4/10

It seems that no matter how destructive or chaotic a world is set up as, writers will always find a way to try to include cute girls.

Story - During the first few episodes, Date a Live introduces us to a world in which beings known as “Spirits” cause what seems to be natural disasters on Earth, killing countless people in the process. Humanity has tried several ways of combating these Spirits until they finally set up on just using violence. A new method, however, was recently proposed, one without violence. And that method is kissing the Spirits to seal their destructive powers. Also, did I ... say all the spirits happen to be girls?

Date A Live uses its premise that would usually be shamed as just another excuse for a harem set-up in a very comedic way. And, it works, Date A Live manages to be genuinely funny and entertaining with its tongue in cheek execution. Date A Live manages to poke fun at waifuism, the harem genre, fan service scenes, and most importantly, the visual novel medium. There is one major problem though. During the middle, Date A Live realizes it’s time to stop joking around and time to form a serious plot. This is a big problem, because during the rest of the duration of the series, Date A Live is actually trying to be serious, and it does NOT work. An antagonist with no real depth is shoehorned in, just because there needs to be one. Drama commonly occurs, with no development or progression gained from it, it’s just there for there to be drama. Characters previously pushed aside become relevant only when the plot needs them to. Date A Live’s previously enjoyable comedic tones are ruined just because the writers felt there was a necessity for an actual plot to take place. 5/10

Characters- Date A Live is a harem anime at its core, so it’s characters aren’t anything special in terms of depth, but that isn’t always necessarily bad. Our main character, Shido Itsuka, is a white knight who plays the role of making the Spirits fall in love with him in order to seal their powers. With visual novel tropes, he succeeds in the comedic process of it. There’s a problem in this though, during each conquest of a Spirit, Date a Live seems to develop and characterize each Spirit through and through. During the end of it, however, Date A Live pushes off whatever development each Spirit got and just makes them a side joke for Shido’s harem, which wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the aforementioned serious plot that Date a Live tries to play later on. So basically, Date A Live isn’t winning anything in the character department.
Rambling aside, Date A Live’s grills do have a charismatic charm to them that makes them good picks for waifus. My particular favorites include Tohka and Kotori, so if you’re into those types of things, Date A Live does carry it around marvelously. 5/10


Art/Animation- Date A Live looks beautiful. It is consistent in quality, barley ever showing any off model scenes. The animation is pretty good, albeit nothing outstanding, but it doesn’t really need any fancy animation for the type of show it is. The most redeeming point of Date a Live, however, are the character designs for the grills. Examples being Kurumi and Yoshino, the former having a very appealing design that is obvious waifu bait, and the latter having a unique one that doesn’t seem to have been done before. Date A Live’s art does a good job distracting the viewer from its narrative flaws by having them focus on the grills. 8/10

Sound- For me particularly, not much of the soundtrack from Date A Live stood out. This isn’t to say that it’s bad. Date A Live’s soundtrack does a very good job at what it’s supposed to do, create a mood. The soundtrack accompanies whatever situation is going on onscreen in a synergetic manner, having no particular scene stand out because of it’s lack of music or inappropriate use of music. The voice actors do a good job making the characters, particularly the grills, stand out. As, as for the OP and ED, they’re nothing special. The OP gets you pumped for the episodes like it’s supposed to, and the ED is your average romance song sang from a female character’s point of view, of course, this is all subjective to one’s musical taste. 7/10

Enjoyment- Despite what may seem like me ranting on the show, Date A Live is a very enjoyable piece of media, shockingly enough. Maybe it’s the grills, maybe it’s the hope for it getting better, maybe it’s the fact that even though it tries to pull off a serious plot it still keeps some of its comedic tone, I don’t know, but Date A Live was a blast to watch. If you want to turn off your mind, but still want to watch something enjoyable, Date A Live is a good anime to watch if you don’t mind it’s narrative flaws. 8/10

Overall - Date A Live’s narrative does not work taken seriously, it has many flaws that don’t allow it to strive in a medium where originality is highly praised. If you’re looking for a story with depth, developed characters, a strong story, or if you’re bothered by every minor flaw of something, look away, Date A Live is not for you. If you’re a fan of the harem genre, looking for some good waifus, or if you just want to relax to a senseless anime, then Date A Live is a good recommendation. 6/10