With that said, let’s dive into Gintama—its themes, structure, and how it compares to other works. We’ll also look at whether its beginning is misleading and how leverages the medium to deliver its themes.
So, what is this show about?
This show is set in Edo, the land of the samurai—a clear metaphor for Japan. The central thesis is that while the Amanto (foreigners, aliens) arrive and transform it into something entirely new, the core of what it means to be a samurai endures.
Gintama reimagines Bushido in a simpler, modern way that applies universally, regardless of one’s background. Giving an extensive focus on having something to protect and the strength in staying true to your values.
First things later, let’s talk art direction.
The character designs are remarkably recognizable, even the intentionally bland ones. The openings and soundtrack are memorable, too. Sure, there are moments when the lack of budget shows, but the series uses that to its advantage, turning it into a running joke that also pokes fun at the industry itself.
One thing worth mentioning is the voice acting. Some characters are brought to life with so much personality through the performances. Combined with Gintama's amazing filler content, it makes the show something truly special.
So, how does it start?
I quit Gintama after the first episode. Two years later, I dropped it again after the second episode. Finally, five years later, I tried the third episode—and now I’m hooked. I actually recommend skipping the first two episodes. They don’t add much and are so confusing and nonsensical that they become an unnecessary barrier to entry, where there’s already a lot to take in.
Beyond that, if you’ve seen any gag shows or sitcoms, you’ll find the beginning familiar. The early gags may only be mildly amusing at first, or even fly under the radar. After episode 3, it’s important not to skip any episodes, as the humor starts building momentum.
Comedy-centric shows often need to lean on other aspects as they go on. While the easy route would be romance, Gintama takes the battle shōnen approach. You can get a taste of this mix early on, though the execution improves by a lot over time.
What about the characters?
The characters don’t age and are tied to specific gags. Their introductions are usually semi-comedic, and they continue to reappear in gags that make you attached to their comedic side. But somewhere down the line, you start getting deeper, more meaningful explorations of their character. In other words, they’re gag characters with layers.
What about the story itself?
Imagine watching The Simpsons, and suddenly Lisa is fighting to the death with Bart in a three-episode arc that dives into a traumatic event from their childhood. That’s the kind of unpredictability Gintama offers. You never know whether the next scene will be comedic, gut-wrenching, or packed with action.
Every episode is a wild card. The characters might mess with the opening, the show might have a different title, and the tone can swing from somber to hilarious in seconds. Sometimes you’ll need to watch multiple episodes in one sitting, and other times just one will do. It’s worth looking up a list of arcs to get a feel for the flow.
It is also worth saying that there will be so many unexpected tie-ins. Characters and events that almost left your mind get brought back. Gintama fully utilizes its length to deliver both character arcs and interactions that cannot be as impactful were it streamlined of a lot shorter.
Then, what did I think of it as a whole?
Gintama is a beautifully crafted piece. Sure, there are episodes that fall flat, jokes that don’t land, or obscure parodies that miss the mark. The quality isn’t always consistent—sometimes the fillers are even better than the main episodes.
I can’t recommend it to everyone, though. As much as I love it and wish it were more popular, that would be misleading. There are a lot of crude jokes, mood swings, and references that make it hard to call Gintama a universally enjoyable experience. For its target audience, this is close to a masterpiece; for anyone else, it might just feel like a crude mess.
