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Long title, name of the heroine slapped on top, and a slight twist that makes up the girls’ entire personality, Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian is everything wrong with the contemporary anime/light novel scene. It’s the same old romcom story told in a different way, this time, particularly cringe.

Bottom line is, Roshidere is a show written by a degenerate, for degenerates: its characters over-analyses, over-dramatises, and of course, are over-sexualised. The pain point that makes this show especially insufferable is the utter sincerity in which the cast do and say the most disturbing and idiotic things, yet we are supposed to believe they study in one of the most prestigious high schools in Japan.

The story often side-tracks and whatever happens in the show happens because it would work as a device to serve to deliver on a trope, a gag, or fan service, with very little exceptions. What results is a story that feels, to put it generously, inorganic and stiff. As opposed to the characters driving the plot forward, things happen in the show for the characters to “have a moment”. Perhaps the most infamous example here is the hypnosis scene in episode 7: the Mikhailovna sisters literally start stripping at school in the middle of the day, and for what? Novel readers might argue that the scene is a vital device to deliver on critical foreshadowing (no spoilers, you’d have to guess), I disagree. That is but a by-product of what is otherwise a scene dedicated to be otaku-bait fan service, and if the author really wanted to do foreshadowing, there were a million other more tasteful ways to do it. The anime is filled to the brim with these blocks of disconnected trope-filled scenes that the author tries so badly to smash together, and oftentimes, it’s just bad fan service.

That brings us to the problematic elephant in the room. Now, one can of course appreciate a fan service scene if it’s well-executed. To this, Yuki’s “good morning, my brother” in episode two comes to mind: the nonchalant attitude of Kuze towards his sister serves as good character building and a funny meta gag by contrasting the audience’s reaction from his own. But the majority of these scenes in Roshidere stand in stark contrast to that moment of brilliance. Instead, fan service in Roshidere is often awkward with no satirisation, no thematic, characterial, or plot significance, only pure titillation designed to arouse your average anime viewer. Within the same episode, for example, Roshidere decides to show us multiple angles of Alya changing when trying out different clothes in the store; or in episode five, when Kuze stared into the breasts of the two sisters during PE lessons. The show constantly jumpscares you with unwarranted and uncomfortable scenes that are simply not for anyone with a developed brain.

And this fundamental issue for Roshidere runs even deeper: the story—and hence, the fan service the author so desperately wants to add—needs to focus on Alya; yet, the awkward relationship dynamic she has with Kuze, the POV character and protagonist, makes for some mind-numbingly stupid and boring sequences. Let me give an example. Halfway through episode one, Alya takes off her socks in front of Kuze in the middle of a serious conversation and asks him to put on new ones for her. Predictably, she is too ashamed to carry through with it, and predictably, the remainder of the whole episode is dedicated to this pointless exercise of Kuze getting back on good terms with Alya. This chronic lack of chemistry between the two are not only highlighted in fan service scenes that the author likes so much, but also brings problems into the main plot.

A show being unequivocally and unapologetically cringe might not a deal breaker for many people (it is for me, but I digress), but even if you can look past that and engage with Roshidere authentically—it’s just a bland character drama featuring a low-stakes conflict. The goal of our main duo is to become the student council president, why? Well, we’re not sure. All there is to know is Alya’s borderline psychopathic backstory and Kuze’s mystery secret past somehow powers them to do it. So my big question is, what do Kuze and Alya have to lose if they fail to achieve their goal? Nothing—nothing’s on the line for the two except for their ego. They are good friends with all the prospective candidates, so their position in the council is always safe; their relationships aren’t at risk either, as long as they can swallow their pride, their friendships with Yuki, Sayaka, Nonoa, or any number of their friends would remain the same no matter if they win or lose. This is not to mention how dull the presidential debates, psychological warfare, or anything related to the election is, but I think I’ve said enough on that. Ultimately, it’s this mundane main plot that breaks Roshidere for me: every episode, I sit down to watch whatever disconnected shitshow had popped into the author’s mind, and any resemblance of a well thought out plot or a coherent storyline is heavily undermined by the sheer unimportance of it to the life of the cast. 

Before I get into the only redeemable elements of Roshidere, can I also mention how tiring the “Alya hides her feelings in Russian” gimmick is? The author doesn’t play around with the concept at all, instead does exactly what it says on the tin, EVERY SINGLE EPISODE, sometimes multiple times in one. I’m so done with the Alya says something in Russian → Kuze struggles to keep his poker face up → Alya laughs at Kuze for not knowing Russian (when in fact she’s the clueless one) loop that the author feels mandatory to include every three seconds.

So, a boring and fragmented story, uninteresting main duo, an unexciting main plot, and an annoying gimmick that’s repeated to death, what is there to like in Roshidere? Not much. DogaKobo and the voice actors have done an exceptional job, yet even in the production side of things, I have a bone to pick with Roshidere. In the context of being slapped on top of such a poorly planned story, a different ending song for each episode feels like the production pandering to the otaku psyche, so much so to the point it feels patronising. The only way in which it compliments the story well, and not in a good way, is how detached the songs are to the actual content of the episode. 

That is not to say it diminishes all the stuff DogaKobo and the voice actors have done right in Roshidere. Maruoka Wakana really killed it with her impression of Yuki, Itou Routa did a great job in reworking the novel into a script that turns a repulsive read that is novels into something that’s narrowly watchable show, and the team as a whole that has put so much effort into animating this mess. Despite the horribleness that’s oozing through the screen everytime I watch this show, their efforts and passion is apparent.

Ever since its publication in 2021, Roshidere has constantly topped the best selling light novel charts in Japan. I’m seriously puzzled. Look slightly beneath its hype, what you find is a bad IP that got saved by a decent adaptation that wraps its terrible writing, questionable narrative choices, and lazy characterisation into something that’s barely consumable. If you find Roshidere enjoyable, I’m sorry, but you’re way lost in the anime sauce, might I suggest touching some grass.