Ouran does all of those things. The series is one of several superficial pleasures -- and by superficial I mean luxurious, extravagant pleasures: not only the richness in display, but the operatic/theatrical aesthetic, with a focus on the glow of... well, everything. It has the essential-to-the-genre scope of silly adventures, the travels and themes-of-the-week and pastiches & homages to different genres -- and does every single one of them gloriously.
But where it excels, where the series actually got to me, was the unexpected tragedy of these characters. Those adventures -- better put: the Host Club as a whole -- are slowly revealed, as the background and history of those characters are shown, as doomed escapism. These are characters who are prisoners of their own birth, boys born of wealthy and traditional families that give them no space to decide over their own lives -- and, also for this, they have an underlying darkness, an edge that keeps showing its face under their well-mannered and charming exterior. There is a subtle but constant exploration of how unhappy they were until the forming of the club, and an even subtler implication that this unhappiness has its roots in the social obligations imposed by Japan's society, and their status therein (...which kind of makes this a little about those poor, millionaire kids, but I think that's forgivable, since their aloofness to the lives of the commoners is one of the biggest sources of dramatic tension and humor). This subtext, of course, turns into text in the home stretch.
Of course, the series isn't (mostly) dramatic. Quite the contrary: there's a huge generosity to the characters that inhabit the school, the characters of the week whose involvement with the group helps them find true love, access their true feelings, or just to feel better about themselves. It's also very, very funny. But more than anything - and also better than anything - Ouran is this complicated, slow burning, love story: one, (kind of left alone to simmer) about how a devious twin seems to find his own self through love; and, two, how the revelation of Suou's tragedy (when he finally has a past/history) affects a series-long uninterested Fujioka.
Fujioka is a great lead, her lack of interest in everything etc, but also her almost supernatural understanding of the people's feelings (she's got to be some kind of empath) is consistently charming. She can go from whatever-she's-there-too to perfect-thing-at-the-perfect-time, and this is one of the greatest strengths of the series -- which makes things more perfect when something that is hidden from her, and the only thing she seemed incapable to access via her keen observation, comes to light, and gives the series, finally, its romantic apex. And, even better, this forces all the characters to revolt against their condition and achieve some instance of freedom, in an all-out operatic ending
Loose thoughts:
- Monkeys throwing banana peels as an unstoppable force of chaos.
- Mori's very telling heritage of servitude to Hani's family.
- The implications of the ending promised such a great next arch! Which leads to my biggest complaint:
- Somehow this isn't a thousand episodes long?? THIS IS A TRAVESTY!! (Haha get it? Like Fujioka's dad? I'll show myself out)
MVP: The chotic-er-than-monkeys-throwing-banana-peels twins. Mostly for their really original relationship, which might be my favorite thing in the whole series.
