rrakku's archive

Category: MAL Reviews

ave mujica: the die is cast

first published 2025/03/27

God damn, how long has it been since I last felt this excited tuning in to a new episode every week?

Ave Mujica is an avant-garde experiment that stretches the girls band genre to its absolute limits, not just in its technical prowess and impressive production value, but also in its idiosyncratic narrative choices. It is dark, at times twisted, but it is ultimately also the purest celebration of the themes of hope, friendship, and perseverance that its cutesy moe peers adapt.

It might sound bizarre to say a show that puts forward such authentic and ugly character drama ultimately still has much in common with its predecessors, but to consider otherwise would be mistaken. Ave Mujica’s narrative genius works its distinctive plot into a story that amplifies the core message of hope and dreams in the genre. With Sakiko’s avoidant and manipulative personality (stemming from traumatic domestic abuse) as the catalyst, each member of Ave Mujica is slowly stripped down to their very cores. Then, the flaws inherent within the characters are not resolved superficially, but rather pours out into the open for all to see, with everyone’s insecurities embroidering each others’. The instability of the band because of Sakiko’s actions triggered Mutsumi’s dissociative identity disorder live on stage; Nyamu, relatively new to the entertainment scene, mistook Mutsumi’s paralysis as god-like acting, and hence crippled by her inferiority complex ever since. And as Sakiko began holding herself accountable for causing Mutsumi’s meltdown, Uika went down an emotional spiral, triggered by a constant back and forth between her separation anxiety and the immense guilt she bore from living a life of lies. Yet in the face of all the things they’ve gone through, the five manage to reignite the band spirit and build back Ave Mujica into a group with pure intentions.

Such a refreshing take on the genre is truly what the Bang Dream series needs to keep it going strong. Too long have idol anime been about its cast’s smooth road to success, with anything remotely resembling an obstacle on the way flattened by the power of love and friendship. Ave Mujica, in stark contrast, throws its characters into the deepest depths and hands them no recourse. Yet ironically, it is exactly the heavy themes and weight of the drama present in Ave Mujica that arguably better cements the love and friendship narrative: there is nothing more endearing than seeing people overcome hardships together despite everything in their circumstances working against them.

Now, to tell a story filled with twists and turns like this in a short 13 episode runtime is certainly a challenge, but Ave Mujica does it with flying colours. Much like modern TV’s best of the best, the show packs in incredible information density by unabashedly utilising minute details, heavy symbolism, and implicit dialogue to communicate with its audience. The most unique, and perhaps technically impressive, of which are its cast’s detailed facial expressions and subtle gestures. The faces in Ave Mujica have achieved such a high degree of specificity that, in many cases, the camera is the only thing doing the talking. In the Imprisoned XII performance in episode 10, for example, the music is uninterrupted by any exposition or internal monologue, and the framing, momentary editing, and acting becomes the language in the scene. By removing everything that might be distracting to the present, Ave Mujica draws the audience’s attention to what’s on screen, conveying so much with no words at all: Sakiko’s change of heart, Uika’s emotional weight, Mutsumi/Mortis’ transformation, and Nyamu’s insecurities. It illustrates the intertwinedness of the cast’s personal issues and links them together with a level of fluidity that explicit language simply cannot achieve.

This is something Ave Mujica does that, once again, far surpasses its peers. Its willingness to leave things implied and unsaid captures the beauty and effectiveness of vagueness that the medium rarely engages with. In lieu of hand holding the audience to the answer, it provides just enough context and subtextual clues and trusts us to come to our own conclusions. The result is a show that’s extremely concise and efficient with its screen time with little bloat holding it back; an absolute joy to watch.

However, Ave Mujica’s execution does occasionally slip. Episodes 7 and 11’s way of storytelling notably fall back to business as usual, with one being much more offensive than the other. For the former, there’s no excuse: CRYCHIC’s Haruhikage performance chose to emphasise frustratingly mundane internal monologues, breaking its usual striking visual brilliance. For the latter, Uika’s 20 minute long exposition is an unfortunate but calculated effort to flesh out her background with the little runtime remaining, and the show does try to compensate by delivering it in a visually interesting and thematically consistent way. Nonetheless, it’s a less than spectacular way to develop her character and incongruent with what Ave Mujica has done for the other band members.

The blips don’t stop there either. The eagle-eyed among you might have noticed that Umiri has been left out of any discussion thus far, and that’s intentional. The character development of the bass player in Ave Mujica has been muddled, to say the least. She yearns to become more trusting and trustworthy at the same time, certainly an admirable goal, and understandable given her bad experiences with band break-ups. But her sudden change of heart towards Ave Mujica from being indifferent to obsessive is puzzling: she is demonstrably on good terms with at least one of her band’s mates, and the fractured nature of Ave Mujica should be the last thing she desires. So, when she reveals that she has quit all other bands for Sakiko’s, the sentiment rings hollow. It is disheartening that the pivotal moment for Umiri in the show relies on the idol genre fairy dust that this show has tried so hard to avoid.

It is also undeniable that there’s a missed opportunity within this season to take a drastically different path from the last to further display the genre’s potential. We have already seen in MyGO a story of how empathy, communication, and understanding triumph over individual differences, and Ave Mujica just felt like more of the same. By showcasing the worst sides of humanity, it could have told a story similar to that of a Greek Tragedy: about how we can never escape the circumstances that shape and mould us, but we should still play the cards we’re dealt the best we can. Such an approach would play well as a juxtaposition of MyGO, as well as making it even more of a thematic stand out. Instead, the choice to end the series on a lighter note required a dramatic 180 on its last episodes, and although well-executed, audience members who are less familiar with the roots of the genre might find the sudden tonal shift jarring.

All that is to say, Ave Mujica is not perfect, but in the aspects it excels at, it shines like no other. And the best way to explain its genius may be to point to its choice of subtitle: “The Die is Cast” is both a reflection of the band’s story in-universe and the show’s experimental position in the genre as a whole. And just like how careful thought is put into naming the series, similar attention is paid to meticulously craft every moment of Ave Mujica, and for that it deserves high praise. The show, both in its writing and production, has led the whole genre past the Rubicon.

“Alea iacta est.”

It’s frustrating that its ambitions fell just short.

2025/03/27
the angel next door spoils me rotten

first published 2025/03/25

Since when did we think that animating the wet dreams of a deranged incel is a good idea? The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten is an utterly disgusting anime: not ambitious, nor funny, nor heartwarming. Every week I force myself to sit down to listen to its repulsive dialogue, stare at its hideous animation, and endure through its abhorrent story, all for the sake of writing this review and be the one person that “watched it so you don’t have to”.

So here’s my warning: unless your pastime is reading ChatGPT’s best attempt at human dialogue, this anime is not worth your time.

While the light novel of the same name first published in 2019 was written in the third person, this anime adaptation makes Amane the point of view character. Throughout the majority of the anime, it is his thoughts that we hear, his perspective we see the world and its people in, and his actions we were shown on screen the most. And since is a fundamentally uninteresting, unimaginative, unsociable person, that’s a problem. But even disregarding the fact that such a meritless character makes for a terrible protagonist, because of his reclusive tendencies, Shiina was more or less forced into Amane’s life. The first few episodes truly felt like squeezing water out of a stone.

Their encounter in episode one might be the best example to demonstrate my point. While on his way back home, Amane saw Shiina sitting out in the rain and handed her his umbrella. In return, Shiina offered to clean his chaotic apartment, nurse him until he recovers from the cold he had caught, and cook him meals from time to time.

If you don’t see the problem in that, I don’t know what to tell you other than that high school girls aren’t gonna flock to your door after you’ve given them your umbrella, even if they’re your neighbour.

And while it is later hinted at that Shiina might have known (and liked) Amane long before that point, it feels more like an ass-pull filled in later to justify her actions. Besides, a bizarre yet mundane introduction that only makes sense after eleven episodes is still ill-thought-out no matter what. These problems resonate well after the opening episodes have ended.

But enough about this show’s introduction, let’s talk about the rest of it.

The vast majority of The Angel Next Door takes place in either the 1-B/2-A classroom, or Amane’s apartment. Barely are the characters shown outside of these two settings, and they almost exclusively only talk about each other and nothing else during those scenes. Comments on how Amane has changed after meeting Shiina, banter about Shiina’s gap moe and Amane being tough on the outside and soft inside, or remarks about how weird the two as a pair are. That’d be great if you are already like the characters and just want to see them interact, but if you’re not then they are pointless and flavourless exchanges that don’t add anything to the story.

You could say that the strength of shows like these are not in the story but the characters, but I have a problem with just how shallow the characters are too. The side characters have nothing to them other than the monotonous stereotypes we’ve seen a thousand times over, I couldn’t even care to elaborate. Amane and Shiina seem dominated by their past: Amane defined by his experience being a victim of bullying in middle school, and Shiina a product of her uncaring parents and a kind foster carer. That is partly a by-product of how superficial their interactions are. I want to preface: unless the character has a strong design, how a character interacts with another is the backbone of interaction and subsequently their personality. The main duo in this show, however, talk and act like humanoid robots trying to flirt.

The lack of quality dialogue not only damages their character but also the suspension of disbelief. If only their conversation resembled anything like human dialogue, I might just forgive its ridiculous introduction.

I’ll give credit where credit is due though: the show keeps its limelight firmly on the main couple, and it does develop their relationship. The growth of Amane and gradual opening up of Shiina is apparent (not a high bar to clear, but they at least did *something*).

Even if you look past the faults of the source material that an anime adaptation can’t reasonably avoid, Project No.9 has done nothing above the bare minimum in terms of animation. Closeup shots of Shiina are often beautiful, but this much should be expected given that she’s the selling point of the whole show, not to mention the same camera angle is used over and over void of any creativity. And everything else animation wise is unexceptional if not straight up bad, the momentary and structural editing are also a mess.

Nowhere is that more apparent than a sequence in episode ten. During the boring exposition about Amane’s past disguised as a conversation, the animation crew routinely abuses the 90 degree angle. All the while the scene cuts from Amane hugging Shiina in his living room, to him training in the park, to them at school, in a matter of seconds. There is arguably some connection between the scenes through Amane’s thoughts, but the fundamentals of establishing shots are not respected, leaving the cuts feeling jarring. The best analogy would be that they are doing a speedrun of the story for no good reason.

It just occurred to me that there’s one more thing that The Angel Next Door did alright. The OP and the EDs, while not phenomenal, were sufficient. The OP makes a stand alone song but doesn’t really match the tone/mood, and is honestly wasted on this abhorrent show. The EDs are Takagi-san’s EDs at home, but I won’t complain and they are still fire. They should’ve recorded a mini album and called it a day.

If you want romance, every single show out there does it better. If you want escapism, hell, I’d rather you watch those isekais that come out every season. If you want comedy, my guy you need to give Rent-a-Girlfriend a try.

God I hate this show with a passion.

2025/03/25
love live! superstar!! season 3

first published 2024/12/22

The more things change, the more they stay the same. When Superstar first came out, I thought of it as the Steel Ball Run of Love Live. While every new entry in the franchise features a new cast, starting with a group of 5 instead of the usual 9 was a monumental transformation that made the show into something that had true potential for mass appeal. The second season, however, demonstrated that if Love Live was gonna change, it isn’t going to be with Superstar: reverting back to a cast of 9 wasn’t a bad decision per se, but the poor writing really shafted its chances of hitting the mainstream.

But if you have stayed with Liella! through that, you’ll be glad to know season 3 is everything you’d expect coming out of any modern Love Lives, pros and cons attached. The plot lines are corny but pure and sincere; characters might be exaggerated but give way for plenty of fun and light-hearted moments; and although its animation is lacking at times, its performances always deliver top of the class 3D modeling and 2D animation within the industry.

This season’s Wien Margarete and Tomari Onitsuka are welcomed and well-thought out additions to the ensemble cast. Their past with Liella! provided many organic points of conflict that made for great character growth arcs and overall a great story. The ending also offered satisfying closure for fans of the series. Everybody from first gen managed to achieve their dreams and the group at Yuigaoka stayed together despite the departure of its core members. Some might have wanted something different for Superstar, given the blazing start it had had, but many would be satisfied with this same-old same-old ending, I certainly was.

From Wish song to Starlight Prologue, to Egao no Promise to Superstar!!, thanks for the journey, Liella!.

2024/12/22
roshidere

first published 2024/09/18

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.

2024/09/18
mushoku tensei ii part 1

first published 2023/09/24

If you were given a second chance at life, would you take it? For the 34-year-old NEET we know as Rudeus Greyrat, the answer couldn’t be more of a resounding yes. However, his new life in a brand new world, as all lives go, is far from perfect. After a triumphant journey around the world and back, he realises that everything about his hometown has changed. His home turned to dust; gleaming golden-brown wheat farms became swathes of barren wasteland; smiles on villagers’ faces all wiped away; and adding onto that his companions Eris and Ruijerd leaving his side, Rudeus starts his journey to the north of Central Continent dejected as ever.

There is no denying that Mushoku Tensei II lacks the sense of grandeur its predecessors proudly exude, but to accuse it of being inferior would be unfair. The slow start is the perfect continuation for the sombre wake–up call that is season one’s ending, it further punches down on Rudeus when he was at his lowest, reinforcing the message that there’s no such thing as a life all smooth sailing. The arc immediately following is a timely reminder that the world doesn’t revolve around Rudeus: his reunion with Zanoba and Cliff shows us the adventures he had embarked on are not isolated incidents and could carry unintended after-effects; while Sylphiette and Nanahoshi are symbols of that fact that lives lived outside Rudeus’ view could be equally as eventful as his own. The stark narrative shift this season from exploration to character drama is no doubt less spectacular, but it puts much needed emphasis on the mundanity and gloom of reality instead of the wonders of an isekai. The result is a grounded tone that creates a sense of authenticity for Mushoku Tensei’s world that little isekais could replicate.

Needless to say, the way in which Mushoku Tensei utilises its cast of characters to construct its plot and themes are terrific. However, what really differentiates it from the others is the attention to detail that Rifujin na Magonote pays when crafting its imposing and consistent worldview. The two-cour long exploration in the previous season had left many loose ends to pick up from, and this sequel chose the best ones to follow up on. Roxy’s alma mater Ranoa Magic University, teased since the start of the series, is now the stage where the story plays out on. The Eris family drama that Rudeus had deliberately avoided makes an unexpected return through Slyphiette’s companions. The unsolved mysteries of Turning Point 1 and 2, overshadowed by their horror and shock value, are radically recontextualised with the reappearance of Nanahoshi. Remembering to call back to a few instances of foreshadowing is light work, I’d argue it’s even essential for fantasy epics like this, but it is their interwovenness combined with the seamlessness of how they are shifted from the background into the front stage that makes it so impressive.

And yet, even though the story is so beautiful, this sequel is one of the most disappointing in recent memory. Whether the drop in quality is due to the staff member changes or time constraints is a discussion that I’m not going to delve into. For all that matters, Mushoku Tensei II’s production value is far inferior to its predecessor. Characters’ faces are often disfigured; the failure to do proper scene changes renders many moments difficult to follow; sakuga is few and far between. These issues are especially prominent in the first arc, and I suspect it’s because of the time spent at the attempts at creating the unique-to-each-episode 90 second opening animations.

It is, therefore, such a shame that the new team didn’t seem to understand what makes those sequences great in the first place. In season one, they captured the splendour of the landscapes without compromising on the runtime, or delivered on concise exposition without slowing down the pacing to a snail’s pace. This often means expanding on the original source material in order to make good use of the advantages of the change in medium (visual storytelling and the concurrence of the image and audio). In contrast, the animation that accompanies the openings of the Counter Arrow arc takes little liberty in diverging from the light novels, and makes no effort in carefully selecting which segments to include. Episode one’s internal monologue paired with a flashback was Mushoku Tensei II’s best take on the concept, but the opening could have been moved to the start for a view of the northern lands, then pair the ending song with Rudeus’ monologue. Episode two’s snow clearing scene could have easily been skipped and instead feature more details of the dungeon they were exploring that episode. Episode three’s date with Sara put too much focus on the inconsequential actions of the two and missed the opportunity to show more about the city. Episode four’s blatant foreshadowing also suffers from the same problem, too much runtime is spent featuring upcoming characters, entirely omitting Rudeus’ journey to the University. If you feel that Mushoku Tensei this season feels different and sometimes even flavourless, this is why: their poor execution created a rippling impact on the quality of the show as a whole, not just the sequences themselves.

Given that the new team at Studio Bind couldn’t capture the je ne sais quoi of the openings of its predecessor, the decision to cut such sequences was a good call. The show as a whole looked a lot better from the university arc onwards. Nevertheless, it hadn’t returned to the high standards that people had come to expect. Still showing up from time to time are the weird portraits and awkward framing, and some dramatic moments fall flat due to the limited amount of sakuga (e.g., the confrontation with Badi). All that is to say, don’t expect too much from Mushoku Tensei II’s production. Even if (somehow) one comes out of season one limiting their expectations, they won’t be impressed in the slightest: judging purely based on animation, season two is only marginally better than your average seasonal anime. It’s fortunate that Rudeus’ story in the northern countries requires much less spectacle to be entertaining, inadvertently making quality drop-off a little more palatable.

While we are on the topic of flaws, one cannot simply ignore Mushoku Tensei’s narrative and thematic troubles. Detractors of this series have long criticised the show’s pervasive perversion of the female cast, this time around Rudeus’ condonation of slavery, and there’s simply little excuse. This is a recurring problem with Mushoku Tensei: morally devious actions/events (as conceived by the modern person) are justified by in-universe explanations and rarely criticised textually or otherwise. Rudeus’ abnormal sexual drive and creepy advances are conveniently accommodated by the deeply patriarchal world, and his apathy towards those living in appalling conditions is never questioned. Many say Mushoku Tensei is ultimately a story of a broken man’s coming-of-age story, and thus moments like these are required for comparison and contrast. I find that argument disingenuous at best. While later entries could make this theme apparent with time, it doesn’t follow that the show must handle such sensitive subjects in a tone deaf way.

In the end, I’m left conflicted. On one hand, Mushoku Tensei II is a disappointing sequel plagued with production issues, equipped with a questionable moral compass, and mired in fans’ overexpectations. On the other hand, it is a comparatively decent entry in the over-saturated isekai genre, featuring a carefully crafted world with immense potential and countless engaging mysteries. Chances are, if you are invested in Mushoku Tensei, this season is probably a fine entry that’s mildly disappointing; but if you only liked it for its fantastical explorations and startling plot twists, maybe it’s time to look elsewhere.

2023/09/24
looking back at: quintessential quintuplets manga

see my original review here. this meta-commentary is written some time in 2023.

Reading back in 2023, my first thought was that this review turned out to be more of a rant than a proper review. Partly because it was typed on my phone in a hurry while I was on the move (I distinctly remember that I had forgotten that the final chapter was out on the day and rushed this out), but also partly because I was disappointed in how the author Negi about handled this ending.

While my memories of Gotoubun have now faded, I think that I have made a poignant observation in the original review that deserves more elaboration. Specifically that the Gotoubun story “lack an explanation”.

I have read and watch a handful of harem manga and anime when I was a teen, some great and some not. Regardless of their quality, however, all of them had something in common. Either they would have a narrative element beyond the romantic and dramatic tension that naturally arises in a harem; or that they are more akin to “will they won’t they” story, with an obvious winner and other love interests as also-rans here for the sake of more titillation. In rare cases it could even be both, but I digress.

Negi took a different path when writing Gotoubun. He declared a singular winner in the first chapter while balancing the chances of who’s going to win throughout; he limited of the sexual encounters (in comparison to earlier works, trust me when I say there are still plenty); and he focused on the relationships between the cast instead of building a separate narrative.

On paper, the complete inversion of established tropes sounds like a refreshing take on an established genre. And credit where credit is due, Gotoubun indeed had a flying start because it. All the heroines having similar chances was exciting, and it certainly didn’t hurt that the lovable characters got to have more panels to themselves since there isn’t any exposition needed to build a narrative.

Unfortunately though, this outright rejection of the old had only proved why manga artists and light novel authors didn’t break from the norm. Gotoubun hit a break wall when it’s time to finish up the story. Negi committed to a single winner, yet when the time comes all five of the quintuplets still had a chance.

Some familiar with fan theories would say that that is not true. Infamously, Reddit user u/Nicosarea posted a 9000 word write-up on why Yotsuba was going to be the winner to the Gotoubun subreddit long before they revealed that she was the OG in chapter 86, arguably the first major “hint” of the series.

I disagree. Popular sentiment remained that there was no way to tell who was going to win at the time. Right up until chapter 112, just one chapter before Fuutarou chooses one of the quintuplets as his love interest (sounds wrong but we’ll have to run with it), people still had no idea who’s going to win. Just take a look at the r/manga dicussion of this chapter.

While it looks as though fans are satisfied by Fuutarou’s choice on the whole, I am certain such an ending would have been lambasted by any other fandom. Gotoubun’s whole story is based on the “who would win?” plot and showing a proper journey for the eventual couple to come together is, I feel, the bare minimum.

A few dozen of chapters showing why Yotsuba is the special one would have been perfect, but because of one reason or another, Negi didn’t bother. The poetic reason would be that Negi didn’t want to “succumb to the tropes”; that’s what I assumed 3 years ago. The more likely reason would be that Gotoubun was facing the guillontine from the publisher, but as a foreigner that didn’t even buy the magazines, I could only speculate.

Anyways, this is what I meant by “lacked an explanation”, all this was condensed into a single sentence in my original review. But now at least you know why I wrote what I wrote. I still ended up giving Gotoubun a 5/10 because I felt some great parts of the manga should be recognised. Although I am still flabbergasted to this day by the generally positive sentiment on Gotoubun’s ending, after 3 years’ time to calm down, I think if I get the chance to read it again, I would.

2023/06/15
suzume

first published 2023/04/15

March 11th, 2011 was a tragic and unforgettable day for many. It was the day that the Japanese’s proudly proclaimed impenetrable sea walls, unfailable nuclear safety measures, and unmatched vigilance of their people, failed against nature’s onslaught. To the world, the complete collapse of Japan’s defence against earthquakes was a reminder that the all-powerful nature could destroy us at any time. But to residents of northeast Japan, it is an all-too-real story of losing their homes, their life’s work, and most importantly, their family.

The Iwato family were victims of this tragedy. The then four-years old Suzume was too scared to face the fact that her only family had died in the disaster, and desperately asked every person she came by about her mother’s whereabouts. It was during this search that she found the door to the Ever-After, a timeless realm where Worms and Gods reside and battle. This would later become the thing that ties her fate with Souta, the love of her life. Canonically, earthquakes in Japan are caused by Worms, and the Closers’ jobs are to close the doors to the Ever-After to stop the Worms from entering our world. And then there comes this girl haunted by an earthquake that took her mother’s life, who became the very persons that stops earthquakes from happening, a Closer.

What was the dream sequence in the introduction about? Why can Suzume see the Worm and the Ever-After while others can’t? Why does it rain after the Worms are defeated? Why are the keystones so cold they’re freezing? The movie gives satisfying answers to every last lingering question.

I am rambling on because the interlocking themes of family, intimacy, companionship, unavoidable tragedy, and childhood trauma is presented in a way that no other medium can replicate. Shinkai has really stepped up his writing in Suzume, and the result is poetic. There’s no other way to put it, Suzume is poetic.

The sound direction is, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, nothing short of amazing. Its off-beat and comedic moments are paired well with the James Bond-esque jazzy Cat Chase. The moments involving the Worms the score is grand and suffocating with a subtle nod to traditional Japanese music, such as Abandoned School and Sky Over Tokyo. And of course, the glorious EDs, RADWIMPS underrated Kanata Haruka and the viral Suzume need no introduction unless you’ve been living under a rock.

The art direction was not up to par with the usual Shinkai standard. While Suzume has that je ne sais quoi animation featured in every Shinkai work, the 3D integration in this movie was a double edged sword. On one hand, it creates jaw-dropping scenes like the 360 panning shot of the abandoned onsen resort. On the other hand, it could look like the over smoothened worm all over Tokyo. Granted, it’s a nippick among nippicks, but the standard for Shinkai is high for a reason, and Suzume’s animation was definitely a bummer.

Whatever Shinkai movie it might be, you can bet that the main couple end up meeting again on a hill of some sorts. You could dismiss it as lazy rehash, but I see it as, again, poetic.

2023/04/15
home office romance manga

first published 2023/04/13

Yotabanashi—the perfect phrase that encapsulates the essence of this manga, yet frustratingly there’s not an equivalent word in English that captures its meaning.

Yotabanashi generally carries a negative connotation, but it could be neutral as well. Whether it is describing a meritless gossip, a far-fetched story, or a trivial anecdote depends entirely on context. And depending on your perspective, Telework Yotabanashi could be all three of those things.

The story is narrated by future Nokoru, reminiscing on what is perhaps the turning point of his life. It was during the COVID-19 pandemic when his company started a work from home scheme that led him to meeting Natsu, his archaeology post-grad neighbour. To say that he has low self-esteem and lives a mundane life before their fated encounter would be an understatement. He was conventionally unattractive and was never hit on, he works at a terrible company at a job that drains him. Over the 20 chapters, Natsu aggressively makes advances towards Nokoru and pulls him out of that life.

I won’t claim that the romance and dialogue between Natsu and Nokoru is authentically Japanese, but even if it is not, it is at least honest. Things occasionally do get awkward, and as with all things miscommunication do happen, but they are always sincere and frank towards each other and untangle every situation as the adults they are. I think what I want to say is that they display emotional maturity, which cannot be said about a majority of romance manga out there.

This emotional maturity is supported by the author’s amazing art. Especially the facial expressions of the characters, which are diverse and subtle yet vivid.

The manga could have gone on a lot longer, talking about their adventures around the world in detail. But, as Nokoru said, this was nothing but a yotabanashi. He had a story in mind he wanted to tell, and while it might be trivial, it might not interest you, it might seem implausible, but this is the story of how he met his wife.

2023/04/13
chainsaw man

first published 2022/12/28

Why Chainsaw Man would even have a tad of bad reputation is baffling to me: it is close to being a perfect Shounen. While there are still definitely flaws, I can say with confidence that there are no deal-breakers in the series, as long as you are an anime fan.

But before I praise Chainsaw Man into high heavens, let’s get the caveats out of the way. If you watch Chainsaw Man for eye candy, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Although the designs and cinematography are to be commended, the action animation itself sails just above decent in a post Demon Slayer world. With the exception of the fight just aired in episode 12, much of the fights are at best slightly above average fight sequences. The subpar animation is masked with clever use of framing that makes the fights less coherent and more awkward to watch, but delivers better action and makes the 3D animation more palatable.

That in my eyes, however, is a tiny flaw and easily overlooked on the mountain of great things Chainsaw Man brings to the table. Its fights do still work even with its limited animation all thanks to its amazing tone/atmosphere that the script and cinematography has crafted. The generous use of silence and occasional awkward dialogue, counter-intuitively, works to the show’s advantage. It creates an unsettling and eerie tone that’s matched when the push comes to shove and the fights begin. Each fight is genuinely terrifying and holds incredible stakes that make them feel important, which can’t be said for much of Shounen nowadays.

To avoid getting the show from being too heavy, Chainsaw Man contrasts its dark setting with Power and Denji, two of the most apathetic and stupid characters out there. Denji especially, as our point of view character, would be unworkable as the protagonist in any other environment. His cluelessness of his surroundings and, for lack of a better phrase, devilish stoicism would render him utterly unlikable if not for the show’s setting. Instead, in Chainsaw Man, it juxtaposes the serious and borderline hopeless situations our characters are routinely put in. Sometimes it diffuses tension and creates humour, sometimes it’s vital to the plot and it would simply not proceed if not for his character. My point is that Denji is impeccably designed with the whole story in mind. He didn’t just rely on the Excalibur in the stone to become a hero, he needed to be who he is to be the one.

Part of the appeal of Denji, and to an extent Power and Makima’s character can be attributed to the fact that humour surrounding the anime and manga subculture has become very ironic, self-aware, and self-deprecating. You’ve probably seen Tik Toks of people barking to Makima cosplays or Power fondling her chest. This ties into why you need to be an anime fan to truly enjoy Chainsaw Man, because this would just be cringe otherwise. But I digress.

The cast of Chainsaw Man, while not huge, have great chemistry. Denji and Power play off each other very well, and Aki provides the much needed straight man character to contain their stupidity. Makima on the other hand, we know barely anything about other than that she’s really powerful. But the sublime delivery of Tomori Kusunoki compliments this and she is in fact the main mystery of the series. We’ve also yet to see much from Kishibe and Kobeni and that’s intentional. If Makima is the main mystery then Kishibe and Kobeni are the side ones. People that criticise any one of them lacking depth to their characters are simply missing the point.

That’s because a majority of this season of Chainsaw Man functions as an introduction to the actual story, but what it did show is immensely promising. The voice acting, pacing of the dialogue, and momentary editing and framing has created an eerie tone, but what came of it? Well, without getting into spoilers, the actual story starts in episode 8, and what happened resolves the dissonance between the tone and the actual story. The tone foreshadowed the event not specifically, but you know something is up and due. This sort of atmospheric foreshadowing is rare in Shounen, and the result is one of the most cohesive, consistent, engaging, yet subtle introductions in anime ever. The plot then progresses naturally building up to the hype confrontation in episode 12. Much of the mystery in Chainsaw Man is still left unsolved though. I haven’t read the manga so I can’t make any guarantees for the plot later, but from what I’ve heard and seen this season, I really look forward to season two.

The last thing I’d want to mention is the banger opening and endings. Kick Back is truly one of the songs of all time. And I find each and every ending gorgeously drawn, although I can’t say the same for the music, some of them are just not fitting to my taste. Some might say Chainsaw Man would be better off giving some of the ED budget to the animation, but that’s beyond the scope of this review.

In the end, those that said this show did not live up to the hype are either manga readers that had unrealistic expectations, or just antis magnifying what little flaws Chainsaw Man has to hang on to their unfounded beliefs. Or maybe it’s because I came in blind and pleasantly surprised, you be the judge.

2022/12/28
love live! superstar!! season 2

first published 2022/10/09

“Welcome to our world!” The five girls’ first performance of this season was a warm welcome not just to the aspiring members of Liella, but also to the audience for returning to witness a new chapter. And I mean, who could resist? Superstar season one is perhaps one of if not the best idol show out currently out there. So, how did second season fare?

Well, not great. Introducing new characters this late into the series naturally comes with some compromises, and this season of Superstar didn’t have the wrong priorities.

Now, I don’t mean that Kinako, Mei, Shiki, or Natsumi are bad characters, they are decent. They have strong, distinctive designs that reflect their personas; some of their character traits mesh very well with the original five, like Mei with Keke or Natsumi with Sumire. Mei and Shiki’s relationship is adorable. And although Some of their attributes on the extreme end, e.g. Shiki’s nonsense gadgets and Natsumi’s “desuno” mannerisms, could annoy some people, it ultimately comes down to personal preference and I digress.

To introduce new members to an existing idol group is to risk alienating your audience, because people came for Kanon, for Keke, for Chisato, for Sumire, and for Ren, not for Kinako, or Mei, or Shiki, or Natsumi. So the question is, how do you get people to keep watching while you introduce characters that no one cares about? The solution Superstar gave to this question is to get their introduction over with as soon as possible, cramming it all into its first episodes. I don’t think that’s a good approach. The first episodes resemble the real life equivalent of a freshmen ice-breaker, not necessarily the most entertaining stuff.

In later episodes, as the characters get to know each other, you can see their characters play off each other better. Conversations feel substantial, sometimes even fun, and not just vegetables talking to each other. In a sense you could argue that therefore the awkward start only makes it more realistic: the more time you spend with the same group of people, the more comfortable you are with them. However, disregarding the discussion of whether the realism of fiction is always preferable or not, it still doesn’t make it any fun to watch.

One could also make the case that their addition was a cornerstone to season two’s structure, essential for the dramatic confrontation between Keke and Sumire. Keke’s potential departure is perhaps the easily the most intricate, important, and interesting plot thread in season one left unresolved, it’s very intricate and showcases the emotional intelligence of both of them. However, in this season, the whole situation ended on quite a bitter note. The confrontation and solution is too cheesy, and the most detrimental part about it is the climatic scene where Sumire spills the beans about Keke. But there are redeeming qualities: the voice acting coming out of the whole sequence is done insanely well, the drama feels authentic and there are nuances in everyone’s thoughts that the audience can understand and appreciate. And that’s about the high-note of this season in terms of story.

Because if last season’s story required some suspension of disbelief, the story this season is sometimes borderline incoherent. I won’t delve into it deep here, because there plainly isn’t much to talk about, I’ll just give a few examples. Obligatory spoiler warning.

Episode 1: somehow because Kinako stumbled upon the five practising, they suddenly want to HER specifically as THE new member(?)

Episode 3: to celebrate(?) their loss at a local competition, they decided to hold a performance at their own school(?)

Episode 7: Ren got addicted to games, so their solution is to play together to overcome her addiction(?)

I guess the only other storyline that made any sense coincidentally also comes from a new character: Wien Margarete. She is the real rival of Liella, hinted at in episode two and only appears every now and then when she needs to. Even then, so little is known about her until an exposition dump in episode eleven, which backfilled her motivation and established a “she doesn’t have a soul of a school idol” narrative. On the topic of Margarete, we were told that her performances are jaw-dropping, insanely good, on a completely different level than even Liella or Sunny Passion. In reality, we can’t even see the performances when they have lost, and the only time we saw her beat, it was when Liella squarely diffed her both in terms of music and choreography.

Which brings me to season two’s saving grace, its performances. At this point I am convinced that the Love Live franchise has the most talented people in the industry working on the 3D models, animation, and music. They continue to be stunning this season, and sometimes even one upping themselves. Chance day, Chance Way! has Chisato jumping up in 2D but landing in 3D in one continuous shot, which I swear is more impressive than it sounds; Sing! Shine! Smile! has hands down the most beautiful set, most expressive faces, and most natural movements in any Love Live; Mirai no Oto ga Kikoeru is subtle and comparatively muted as a finals song, but it reflects on the growth of everyone over the season and The decision to put Ren in the centre was refreshing. They definitely do cut corners when the characters are not performing though, to the point where it feels like the video game equivalent of cutting back to gameplay from a cutscene when the girls get off the stage.

Actually, Superstar season two may be best described as this, it’s a series of dazzling music videos with these poor excuses of a story but in between them.

Well, at least Welcome to Bokura no Sekai is still a bop.

2022/10/09