The plot, for those of you who haven’t been keeping abreast of the seasonal discourse and thus haven’t seen this show plastered around every corner, follows young Sakura Minamoto, a high school girl with dreams of being an idol that are promptly dashed when she’s killed by a runaway truck in the first minute of the show. And as she flies in slow-motion through the air, raucous death metal playing over the opening credits, you begin to realize the ingenious bait-and-switch Mappa has caught you in. This isn’t just an idol anime: this is a zombie idol anime. Sakura is resurrected as a zombie, along with six other idols (and idol-adjacents) from various points in Japan’s history, by the mysterious motormouth Kotaro Tatsumi, who plans to turn them into a functioning idol group to serve as a tourism boost for the dilapidated Saga prefecture. And thus, tongue firmly in cheek, the show takes you on a rollicking tour of idol anime’s greatest hits as filtered through the Troma school of schlock horror, and the result is as hectic and inspired as that description might lead you to believe.
Yes, in a word, this show is fun. It’s ridiculously fun. It has such a firm grasp on the mechanics of its own absurd situation that it’s able to start cranking out killer body horror gags and slapstick scenarios straight out of Evil Dead’s slightly peppier cousin right from the word go. The contrast between the usually sterile, pure image of idols and these cute zombie girls with their limbs popping off every odd second is such a refreshing burst of laughing gas, never failing to catch me off guard in the best ways. There’s something kind of lightly transgressive about the whole affair, about letting these focus-group-managed starlets be this wacky and unexpected and weird and outsized and occasionally gross. It grants the entire show an air of unpredictability; for once, I wasn’t really sure how this story was going to play out, even as it starts seguing into more conventional idol trappings in the back half. And when I’m having this much fun not knowing what’s coming next, that speaks volumes about how damn committed this show is to the beat of its own offbeat drum.
The real secret weapon behind Zombie Land Saga’s success, though, is its characters. Franchouchou, as it’s eventually named, is composed of some of the best, most immediately memorable eclectic personalities I’ve seen in quite some time. Sakura is the straight man who’s not afraid to match the intensity of her fellow group members, there’s a pair of more conventional idols who ground the mechanics of the story in their expertise, an expressive little girl with her heart literally beating out of her chest, an actual courtesan with a killer right hook, a badass biker chick who instantly steals every single scene she’s in, and The Legendary Tae Yamada, who might just actually be a conventional mindless zombie, but god dammit, it’s Sailor Moon’s legendary voice actor wrangling an entire character performance out of nothing but growls and grunts, and that’s just plain incredible. But even she’s nothing compared to the sonic wall of explosive mouth diarrhea that is Kotaro Tatsumi. Good. Fucking. God. I have heard Mamoru Miyano’s unhinged vocal stylings before, but this performance just takes it to a whole new level. He is operating at 200% the entire show, rattling out barely coherent orders and inspirational platitudes like a human gattling gun in a voice that swings between “sentient shit-eating grin” and “sloshed drill sergeant” at the drop of a hat. You’d think that would very quickly get annoying, but somehow, Miyano hits the perfect sweet spot between sincerity and self-parody every time, and result will have you bowled over laughing every time he opens his mouth. It’s this cast that endears you to Zombie Land Saga’s unorthodox wavelength, a wacky band of misfits that capture a spirit of camaraderie you can’t help but get swept up in.
Which is good, because while the time we spend just hanging out with these lunatics and watching them do idol stuff is oodles and oodles of fun, I feel that the show isn’t quite as strong in the more emotional moments. Their struggles just feels a little too conventional and perfunctory, especially when compared to how daring and expressive the lighter moments are. To me, Zombie Land Saga doesn’t feel like a show where a subplot as simple as “two group members don’t get along and have to resolve their philosophical argument!” really fits, or where the janky CG used for many of the performance scenes matches the usually expressive-as-hell animation. It’s the faces that really make all the difference: compared to how lively and exaggerated the girls’ expressions are at their best, such as during a gut-busting rap battle in the second episode (yes, you read that right), the stiff, limited movement of their CG models keeps you at far more of a distance at what are supposed to be the climactic emotional high points. And you can really feel that difference, because the few times where the performances are done in traditional animation are easily the best, most evocative moments of the entire show. Especially when, without spoiling too much, one of those performances ends up being the lynchpin of one of the best goddamn coming-out subplots I’ve experienced. If the rest of the emotional storytelling were on that level, then I would feel confident calling this show an outright masterpiece.
As is, though, I can’t feel too disappointed in the show we got, even if it’s maybe a couple of rewrites away from true transcendence. Zombie Land Saga is still absurdly fun, endlessly creative, and bursting with energy, a roller coaster ride of imagination and light subversion that I would definitely love to ride again should a second season be greenlit. Chances are you’ve already checked it out for yourself, but for those of you still on the fence, now’s the time to watch it. I promise you, you won’t regret it.
