I took a break at the structural cliffhanger; turns out sad emotions make people sad.

Princess Tutu got me good. Coming out of episode 4, I was starting to wonder about Princess Tutu only restoring Mythos’ negative emotions to him. “Surely this can’t last. Surely Tutu is aware that imbuing a boy with only negative emotions won’t restore him to wholeness, only crush him beneath the weight of them, right?” Heck, even Drosselmeyer throws this out (although I’ll note I thought of it before he offered his take). And then episode 5 came, with all the gentle warmth I’d felt Tutu to be capable of from the very first episode. Like the ghostly lady in episode 4, the lamp in episode 5 is suffering loneliness – but this loneliness is generated out of lack of object for its inherently affectionate nature. That’s pretty moe anthropomorphization, if you ask me. When do we get our lamp moegirl slice of life anime?

The duality of the deceased woman and the lamp to be a really nice way to frame the differences between episodes 4 and 5 (and it’s also interesting how Rue is a focal point for both of these stories), making the the comparative warmth of 5 stand out all the more by attributing a positive emotion with a character other than Princess Tutu. And so, at this point I was starting to think I’d figured Tutu out – that it was going to strike a balance between downer emotions and uplifting ones to keep Mythos balanced out until the end, but then episode 6 showed up and turned all of this on its head.

Making the prince fear the saving princess as a result of her actions is a pretty gutsy move, but where Princess Tutu really wins is by achieving the one-two punch of upsetting its own established story structure and blasting the audience with the emotional weight of Duck’s sudden agonizing doubt.

Because, let’s be real, if you aren’t rooting for Duck at this point, you must be a callous stone-hearted monster. She’s acting out of well-intentioned ignorance, chucking traditional gender roles out the window, being totally cute, and dancing all at the same time – of course she’s going to impulsively assume she’s got one track towards the final ending (in fact, her insistence on forcing the heart shard to return to Mythos feels a little more than slightly motivated by the desperation of knowing her feelings will never be reciprocated). “You may not ever recognize me the way I want you to, but just let me save you, dammit!”

The other thing that came clearer in this batch of episodes were Mythos’ relationships with Rue (who I still like a lot! she danced herself to exhaustion trying to save him!)  and Fakir. It’s hard to say if either of them really love Mythos at this point, but I do think it’s obvious both of them care about him – even if it might be in a somewhat unhealthy way. Fakir, in particular, despite his verbal abuse of Mythos, seems like he’s trying to protect Mythos as best he can from the agony of being human. An empty shell can’t feel anything, and therefore cannot be hurt.

Even more interesting that Mythos’ one-sided relationships with Rue and Fakir is their relationship with each other, which appears to be a weird sort of alliance for/rivalry over Mythos. Both of them want to possess the prince (and both know who he is, which implies they came from the story?) and protect him from hurt, but they’re both too headstrong and too possessive to entirely give him over to the guardianship of the other. But the ways they relate to Mythos differ wildly – Rue will send Mythos off alone to fetch her water while Fakir basically wants to lock Mythos up permanently. It’s all sort of shades of unhealthy either way, but when Mythos can’t feel pain who’s gonna stop you…… especially with Princess Tutu dunked in a pond…

Oh, by the way, I still have no bloody idea what’s going on with random (random! not Duck!) characters being animals… electric eels… shocking…

It’s important to the thesis of this piece that I note I tried to write the entirety of this post while listening to “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” on repeat. I couldn’t do it. “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” is incredibly awful writing music.

Lynn Minmay’s very first hit song, “My Boyfriend is a Pilot,” is not the song she sings at the end of Do You Remember Love?, but the assessment given of “Ai oboete imasu ka?” could just as easily apply.

Just your ordinary love song.

But “just your ordinary love song” has great power within the logical sphere of Macross, and the franchise’s obsession with pop culture produces the fascinating side-effect of immortalizing that which is inherently transient. It’s a ridiculous sort of paradox, wherein pop culture loses the momentary “pop” and becomes culture proper. My iTunes library tells me I have listened “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” sixty-one times since I purchased Ranka Lee’s version approximately three months ago, in which time I have listened to many other songs many other times. But “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” will stay on my phone for as long as I continue to like Macross because “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” is no longer just an ordinary love song, but a very niche, very specific cultural artifact for me that I have imbued with sentimental value that outstrips its formal musical merits.

This is all well and good for me, but let me posit that “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” is not just representative of Macross as a whole for me, but for many others besides. Yes, I think this “ordinary love song” is easily the most iconic piece of music to come out of the Macross franchise – because of, rather than in spite of, the very banality that makes it what it is. It is the Macross song, more than any of the franchise’s many other songs can claim to be.

There may be reasons this is so. Ad naseum repetition of the tune in SDF. The fact that it had comparatively fewer tunes to compete with than songs from Frontier did. “Kyun kyun,” as performed by Exsedol. Its recurrence in DYRL and Frontier. But, mostly, there is no reason. It’s not a particularly good song; catchy, but not in a way that differs from any other pop hit. The lyrics, while cleverly resonant with SDF Minmay and Hikaru’s relationship, aren’t exceptionally evocative. It’s dreamy, but not inspiring. It’s fun, but not memorable. It’s not even the first song Minmay sings in SDF!

And yet we remember it. Why?

Because of nostalgia, probably. Perhaps because to some people it’s catchy in a way beyond just being the tune of the summer. Maybe because of the way it become representative of one of the key tensions of Macross. But also probably because Macross asks us to remember it by mythologizing pop culture as a whole (“a force for peace! even if incomplete and imperfect,” says SDF). How grand! The latest hot track on the radio isn’t just something I’m listening to because it’s current and popular – now it is a universally relevant force! Of course culture has power; we know this to be true. But I don’t think Macross only elevates culture generally (perhaps this is Macross heresy), but also particular cultural artifacts. “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” and “Ai Oboete imasu ka?” are just ordinary love songs, but they are the chosen ones! The former wins through sheer market penetration. It got played the most on Top 40 radio to the point that Frontier calls it “legendary.”

I wonder if Macross Plus devotees (I like SDF best so far) feel “Aimo,” rather than “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” to be The Macross Song. While I sympathize with them, I cannot agree. “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” is the First Idol’s first song, and it is the first song weaponized in SDF 27 against the Zentradi. It is the first song, therefore it is the genesis of the legend. It defines the key of everything that will come after, yet does so without limiting itself. “Aimo O.C.” is the successor to the legend, likewise the songs of Walkure.

Again I’ll return to the banality of “My Boyfriend is a Pilot.” It is less profound than “Ai oboete imasu ka?” (I’m not alone anymore is a profound sentiment, I think), less beautiful than “Aimo,” less of an immediate earworm than “Ikenai Borderline.” It’s just a singer describing her plane-loving boyfriend (an idol wishing the robot-obsessed fans of her franchise would pay attention to her). And because it is not special, it endures. It is a song that exists throughout franchise iterations, all the while unbound to specific events. Perhaps I contradict myself here, but I think you can argue “Yasashisa SAYONARA” overwrites “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” as the Event Song of SDF 27 (and that other tracks hold this title in DRYL and in Frontier). “My Boyfriend is a Pilot” never becomes the same sort of climactic universe-moving force others do.

So. It endures because it is ordinary. That is the virtue that makes it special.

I give you The Macross Song.

We’re totally gearing up for a big midshow climax, and I am completely emotionally prepared (no I’m not).

{episodes 3-6}

At this point I cannot imagine any of this ending well for Rue in the short-term, and certainly not in any sort of way that she’ll actually be happy with. She wins the first kiss and achieves her goal, but (if we’re going by Drosselmeyer’s categorizations) she’s a villain without resolve – and resolve seems to the currency of choice right now in Princess Tutu. At this point, everyone has at least a little bit of it: Duck’s overcome her episode 6 doubts thanks to Mythos’ own decision to recover his heart, while Fakir is struggling to put his fears behind him to become a knight for Mythos and Rue is trying to convince herself that she can really be as entirely ruthless as Kraehe.

Rue is really the wild card here (at least until the deck of the story gets shuffled up again), because she’s not really evil – just jealous with love, and afraid. This idea of overriding even Mythos’ wishes because she loves him so much and wants to possess him… resisting change… in Mythos and even in herself (how long does Rue reject the idea that she’s anyone besides herself!)… change is scary, especially when you’re not in the driver’s seat the way Tutu and Mythos are trying to be.

Fakir more or less goes with the flow (which takes some courage on his part), recognizing he can’t stop what’s coming. Fakir is a good boy who likes ducks. Princess Tutu is out of shipping territory for me, but there’s something profound in the kindness he shows to Duck in her duck form. It’s different even from his affection for Mythos, less guarded and less performative. More genuine.

Princess Tutu is not episodic anymore in the way it was earlier, the shakeup at the end of episode 6 has spun the story into an entirely new sort of thing. This, I think, is significant because it echoes the themes the show’s starting to play with. Roles, and expectations, and structure, etc. This is especially noticeable because the heart shards continue to recur as an element each episode, but they’re no longer the focus as the four leads have come to take up more and more of the screentime.

By breaking away from the formality of strictly dictated episodic conflicts (and sure, each episode is fairly self-contained, but this is definitively not like the mahou shoujo-esque formation of the early episodes), Tutu as a story is resisting being confined within forms handed down from a greater power (genre, or the storyteller!!) – just as it appears to be positioning the characters to break out of the parts Drosselmeyer has established for them. Tutu, Mythos, Fakir, and Rue all exist so obviously within their established archetypes, but although Drosselmeyer rejoices over the ways they also don’t play to type (duck, clueless, fearful, uncertain, respectively) because of the drama is creates, those same breaks risk the story’s ability to adhere to the designed path. Um, how does it go…

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness. May those who defy their fate be granted glory”

Also, everyone is out to everyone else. Aside from Duck being a duck (and maybe Fakir has figured this out? maybe?), they all know who the others are, which means that their “real world selves” and their “story selves” can no longer be differentiated from each other. The classic mahou shoujo veil has been lifted. This is interesting in multiple ways, not the least of which is the possibility of reverse impact. Thus far, it’s mostly been the “real world selves” dramatically affecting action in the story, but what about the latter? It’s already happened a few times. When will Rue as Rue chuck Duck into a fountain in a fit of jealousy and suddenly reveal her duckness to the world?

Duck is wonderful, but I just feel bad for Rue all the time…which makes her my favorite, I guess?

I didn’t write that title just for the clickbait; I wrote it because I actually believe it’s true.

It takes a lot for a show like The Lost Village (Mayoiga) to succeed as well as it does, and analysis of things that are well-crafted in non-traditional ways is nearly always rewarding. Having a chance to spill out everything I’ve been thinking about why The Lost Village is as consistently funny as it is was almost as fun as watching the show itself, and I’m rather pleased with how my arguments for and analysis of it turned out. It’s not often I try to analyze things purely on a craft level, but Mizushima and Okada made it easy for me. Hope you guys enjoy (and maybe decide to check out the show if you haven’t)!

Here’s the link~

The question is: are idols born, or are they made of the circumstances of their universe? In Macross, you might say it’s a little of both.

I’m ignoring Macross 7 because A) I haven’t seen it yet, and B) because it doesn’t feature a headlining idol in the way Superdimensional Fortress Macross, Macross Frontier, and Macross Delta do – but this is convenient for me because, as with many facets of the franchise’s treatment of idols, the three “main” idols of these shows exist on a clear continuum. That is, there seems to be a progression of sorts (at least so I like to call it) in the way successive Macross entries handle their feature idols. In SDFM it was Minmay, in Frontier it was Ranka, and in Delta it’s Freyja. I don’t mean to dismiss Sharon Apple, Fire Bomber, Sheryl Nome, or the rest of Walkure – but I think the parallels between this trio are sufficient to limit this discussion solely to them.

The idea is such: at the beginning of their respective series, Lynn Minmay, Ranka Lee, and Freyja Wion each begin as amateur, wannabe singers/idols. Unlike the other musicians of the franchise, who already have established followings at the beginnings of their respective series, these three young girls begin with nothing but a voice and a dream.

And so, three galactic songstresses-to-be set out on their respective journeys to the bring peace to the galaxy by singing – but the conditions of their quests, early on and throughout their stories, vary a great deal. It’s these differences that I want to examine, and at the way these systems of support contribute to the development of the idols they’ll later become. Obviously, as far as Freyja goes, I can only speculate as to how things will end up, but perhaps by first looking at Minmay and Ranka we can effectively chart a potential trajectory for where Freyja eventually land.

When Lynn Minmay debuted her first single, “My Boyfriend is a Pilot,” she was all alone on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere. Sure, she had Hikaru and some family and (barf) Kaifun eventually, but as an space idol… she was trailblazer, walking the stars alone. There were no galactic idols of legend for her to model herself after, and so all she had was her dream of being a singer and the forces of the industry pushing her forward. And, unlike Ranka, Minmay had no metatextual guidelines pushing her in one way or another (if you’re willing to exclude the Mari Iijima thing). No mold, just the guiding hands of commerical producers. In other words, the pressures that eventually create Minmay the peacebroker of the human-Zentradi do so unintentionally – and thus create an idol unprepared to suffer the weight of this role. Minmay cannot be blamed for being human; likewise, she cannot be blamed the she was originally created only to be a commercial product.

The same cannot be said of Ranka Lee, who exists both with in Frontier as a reinvention of SDFM Minmay (but not DYRL Minmay, as ghostlighting would tell it) and in relation to the pre-established figure of Sheryl, the Fairy of the Galaxy. These dual signposts indicate early on where Ranka will go: Macross idols, especially those with already galactic rivals, are destined for universe-impacting careers. So, in Sheryl, Ranka has her own idol – which is something Minmay never had. And not just any idol, but an idol custom-made for the masses in the legacy of Sharon Apple. Is Ranka trapped by having to become a new Minmay and chase after Sheryl? To a degree, and the terms of her relative success are thus different than they were for Minmay – as is the road there. Rather than becoming an instant celebrity, she must work her way up the predetermined idol path with the sort-of-not-really help of Shreyl (although Sheryl also sabotages Ranka’s love life), a kind manager, and the cocoon of Minmay’s legacy. And all this without mentioning Grace’s plot to use Ranka as a devise for literal universal unification.

And so, if Ranka Lee becomes the idol-savior, it is by less accident than it was for Minmay.

Freyja Wion’s circumstances differ further. Although, like Ranka and Minmay, she dreams of singing, Freyja is explicitly a product of their legacies – both within Delta and within the metastructure of the franchise. A young girl with a dream of singing? Check. Cites Minmay, Fire Bomber, Sheryl, and Ranka as inspirations? Check. But Walkure is already exists – not just as an ideal Freyja looks up to in the way Ranka looks up to Sheryl, but as an active galaxy-altering force. And so, the cradle made for budding idol Freyja is far softer, the path better marked, and the companionship along the way far warmer and more encouraging. In other words, Walkure is basically a machine for churning out universe-busting idols. DYRL Minmay has been commodified for mass production, and Freyja is what we get.

What might this mean for Freyja? Does it mean she becomes a vacuous repository for the culture-power so resented by the Windemereans? As I see the complaints made by some fans of the franchise, this is basically how they see Delta: an empty container shaped like Macross that now only holds a poor imitation of the genuine article. But I doubt think a post-AKB0048 and post-Aquarion EVOL Kawamori capable of taking Freyja in such a direction. If anything, by easing the path towards space idol glory via Walkure, Delta has also freed Freyja to strike out as a new sort of idol – perhaps one who can save the galaxy and win the heart of the boy she loves.

As a final point, I feel I ought to note that just because Freyja’s way to becoming an idol of legend is less set to be less laborious and painful in some ways, it will surely be more so in others. Ranka discovered her affinity for the Vajra eventually, but Freyja has been a Windemerean her entire life. Mikumo may be a better senpai than Sheryl and Kaname a better manager than Kaifun, but Freyja’s personal losses are sure to come eventually. Do not despise her for joining an establishment tailored to help her song bloom.

[Sidebar: Mikumo is impressive in that she’s some how even more spacey than AKB0048‘s Acchan was. These kinds of hyper-idols are truly something. Freyja is weird, but not in the same way Mikumo is. Being a dork is not like being an alien who stands nude in the wind pondering the nature of song. Freyja cannot be an Acchan type, but she may become a Nagisa.]

Sakuga is the new hot topic in the anime blogging and Twitter communities, and as a someone who has really gotten a lot out of expanding my anime interests into the realm of the actual animation, I felt it was finally time to do my part to introduce sakuga to others. I think sakuga gets a bad rap sometimes for being something only those who know Japanese can really engage with since a lot of it deals with names and creators and positions. But in this piece I make a case for why anybody can enjoy sakuga – hopefully you guys will be convinced!

Here’s the link~

Listen, I don’t choose for childhood friends to always be my favorites – it just always works out that way.

{episodes 7-11}

You could ascertain this from my Catholicism, but I don’t believe in fate as an actual force. The free will stuff is pretty deeply embedded into my worldview, and yet I still find myself drawn to shows that toy with the idea of fate – mostly because they usually actually end up affirming a universal order that is not superimposed on us from above and telling us that people can be good, brave, heroic, and wonderful simply because they choose to be.

Although Princess Tutu is as wondrous and graceful as always (note: Duck is not graceful, but that’s par for the course, too), Fakir is the one who winds up really owning this theme in these three episodes. My predictions of a few posts ago have blossomed in a way I never expected with regards to Fakir. Certainly, I was spot on in thinking his behavior towards Mythos was ultimately born out of a misplaced and misapplied sort of care, but I don’t think I ever thought he would grow so quickly into the role of the knight ascendant, spurred on by his desire to conquer his fears and, thus, his fate in the story. “I will change fate!” In terms of construction and uniqueness alone, this line is not all that much better than the beloved classic, “You’re you” (which I actually like a fair bit, despite its comparative overuse), but it’s neat for a couple of reasons generally and within Tutu.

Generally speaking, “I will change fate!” is one of those lines that resonates because it’s a battle cry for human agency. And since fate is usually portrayed as a bad thing, the chains of a dictated reality are thrown off in favor of allowing humanity to blossom, with all its ugliness and beauty. For Tutu specifically, it’s powerful because it’s tapping into the chafing feeling of Drosselmeyer’s obsession with an exciting story. A prince can’t have two princesses! Screw that! Let polygamy reign, I say! (That was a joke.)

Anyways, Princess Tutu is about to buckle under Kraehe’s pressure, but Fakir is the one who keeps her from making a fatal (and fatally unproductive) mistake. He’s thrown away his stubborn pride in his way of doing things, accepted Mythos’ wishes, and does everything he can to see his friend’s desire fulfilled. What love! What true devotion! In severing himself from his attachment to the consequences of the story thus far, Fakir opens himself up to changing fate. Freedom from himself brings him freedom to love more gently and generously than ever before. Yes, Fakir is the real star of this midseason finale. Tutu’s stage would never have existed without him striding across the water first. Tutu’s dance of love is passionate and true, but she is following the steps Fakir has already danced for Mythos.

That Fakir continues to be a knight in action as well as in name after this climax is even better – and not just for Mythos, but for Duck as well. As the one closest to Mythos, he is also most liable to be hurt as the crow’s blood infects his beloved friend’s heart. It’s like when the childhood friend finally gets her crush to look at her, but then he goes through some stupid amnesia trope and forgets everything. Princess Tutu is not so bad as that, though. An important distinction. Princess Tutu is not a crappy harem, is what I’m trying to say. Although if it became Fakir’s harem that would be o.k.

Meanwhile Rue really is no longer Rue, but simply a reflection of the Crow’s malvolence towards the Prince in the world. That this is framed within through the language of a paternalistic relationship – and the Crow’s haunting “I just want you to be happy” – whoo, it’s just creepy as heck. You want to talk about Bad Fate, Bad Ordinances of the Universe, here you go. Drosselmeyer’s almost as bad, because he doesn’t see the characters in his story really as characters, but as plot devices meant to bring about a specific end.

Which brings us to Miss Edel, who sacrifices herself to guide Mythos and Tutu out from the lake after saving Fakir. The puppet, having cut its string, burns. This is a haunting image, particularly with the fate-defying Fakir lying wounded in front of her.”May those who defy their fate be granted glory”? Hah! What kind of glory is that! But Fakir accepting his fate certainly wouldn’t have brought him happiness, so perhaps this whole phrase is suspect.

Or, it would be if unconditional, self-sacrificing love wasn’t the greatest glory of all.

By the way, Swan Lake is a hell of a good ballet.

After some harried last minute revisions, I finally got this piece on Re:Zero, which I’ve been enjoying more for the moe than for the “serious story.” There’s actually a lot about the way this show is set up that annoys me, but despite that I do think it’s pretty competent and doing what it does – if only because moe is such a powerful force for inducing audience investment (at least for some). Anyways, hope you guys enjoy the post!

Here’s the link~

I just want all the characters in this show to be happy, but I also want them to defy their fates…and we all know what Princess Tutu says about that.

{episodes 12-14}

While I find Fakir most relatable and while his various trials are the ones that hit me hardest emotionally, it’s Rue’s situation that I find most pitiable and most grotesque. Here we have a character bond by love; or, rather, by a need for love. Mythos is quite literally defined by his lack of human emotion – this much is obvious – but I consider Rue’s character to be similarly constructed out of lacks (whereas Tutu appears as an overflowing wellspring of goodness and Fakir of determination).

Episode 17, which despite being mostly a joke actually strikes me as being profound in the way Utena‘s Nanami episodes were, throws Rue’s personal abysses into sharp relief via Femio’s excesses. In fact, that Femio should beg for punishment for loving too much and being loved too much (even if it’s a delusion on his part) in the same episode that Rue fails to command someone to love her enough to die for her highlights just how far down the hole she is. And she’s attracted to Femio’s overindulgence in love, because it is what she herself lacks. No one loves Rue, and Rue does not, not really, love anyone herself (she demands love of Mythos, but she does not offer it in return). What is it the Raven says to Rue? “And only I and the prince in the story can truly love a pitiful person like you.”

Curse this Raven and his manipulations; he offers a paltry image of what Rue really needs and controls her by threatening to take the illusion of love away from her. Pouring poison into her ears. Poor girl; she doesn’t even know what she’s missing because she doesn’t even have an image of what real love ought to be. Although it’s Fakir I cry most over, I think it’s Rue whose story is most tragic and who I want most to see redeemed.

Speaking of Fakir… wow. What an absolutely brutal string of episodes for the character who’s grown most over the course of the show. He starts out trying to protect Mythos, but ends up on the wrong side of that and has to change. He makes the decision to give up his old ways of protecting and support Mythos in regaining his heart, but doing so eventually leads to Crow!Mythos rejecting him and framing him for pushing him out a window. Yet Fakir persists, endures, and moves forward. In terms of “fate,” he has no other choice, though. Unlike the other three, he has entirely stepped out of his role in the story. He’s still a knight, but a knight that was supposed to die. A knight should have lost purpose.

Fakir finds his own purpose in his love for Mythos, though, so he doesn’t need Tutu to save him in the way the ghost knight does. In my eyes, Fakir glows with the glory of defying fate. He’s just the best.

Mini-Edel is a joy. Put together by Fakir from the ashes of the one-time doll that saved him. Uzuru consumes knowledge without restraint or direction, perhaps the defining characteristic of a being with free-will. Where Edel only needed to know what Drosselmeyer instructed her to know, Uzuru has no such ordained purpose and so flies throughout the show at leisure. I wonder if Uzuru will ever have a “real” role in the story or remain a joke character. I somewhat feel the latter option would be the most perfect foil to Edel’s plot-moving nature. A beautiful contrast.

Speaking of dolls and gaining knowledge, consider also how Mythos has gained more and more of a will as his reacquires his heart. The doll that once gave Rue unquestioning love and obeyed Fakir perfectly is gone; even in sadism and malice Mythos demonstrates his agency. Or perhaps it would be better to say that the Crow does. Brainwashing/mind control-type stuff generally chafes me, particularly in genre fiction. Princess Tutu is no such crap; it works here, because it’s not just an easy-out plot device – it’s an important thematic point. What actions does our blood command of us? There are more kinds of fate that the role into which our lives place us.

The end of the story draws near.

{episodes 15-18}

I almost made the previous post just a reflection on Princess Tutu‘s thoughts about love, but it didn’t quite come together so I trashed that idea and reworked the post into the one linked above. This turned out to mostly be for the best, as Tutu really buckled down on love as a major explicit theme this episode. I still think Femio’s episode winds up being a more poignant reflection on the idea of love in spite of (or perhaps because of) the exaggerated nature of Femio’s character, but the interesting thing about Tutu making love a vocalized theme via the characters (particularly Mythos) is that it now has placed “love” as a theme of equal importance to “fate.”

The proper way to do things, I suppose, would be to link these two now-equal themes together here in the final quarter of the show for one massively emotional finale (spoilers: this is totally where things are going, and I haven’t even seen the show). Love and fate intertwine together – which makes sense when you consider how love is the tool through which adherence to fate (or the reverse, in Fakir’s case) has been carried out. Consider that it’s duck-form Duck’s love for the distant, sad prince which makes her eligible to become Princess Tutu. Consider the way the Crow leverages love to control Rue’s heart.

The episode opens with duck-form Duck recovering in Fakir’s house, followed immediately by Drosselmeyer’s appearance. Drosselmeyer’s scenes have easily been the most consistently compelling visual moments, with the almost black-and-white lighting and his face appearing creepily throughout the screen. While there are obvious in-show reasons for it (Drosselmeyer’s fading ability to perpetuate his presence in the “real world”), I think credit is also due to the creators for not overusing these moments. If I’m remembering correctly, this is only the third time Drosselmeyer has appeared to Duck. It’s also his shortest, recalling Edel’s visits (although he is certainly far less cryptic than our beloved doll). A plot-driver.

Fakir continues to struggle with feeling out of place in this story. He doesn’t technically have a “role” anymore (no wonder all the ends of stories are tore out for him, he was never supposed to get this far), and yet here he still is. Pressing onwards and providing support for Duck that she’d not otherwise have. Even as he hurts over not being able to protect the princess with his sword, he’s become more of a rock for her than I think he realizes. Perhaps soon Fakir will throw away the books entirely, quit seeking his answer in a role that’s already been defined for him, and truly step out of his own will with his sword. He’s already done it once; I believe he’ll do it again. Glory! Just as the prince’s pride galvanizes him to fight the Crow, perhaps Fakir’s desire to live up to being a night will compel him to move forward.

The conceit of the love letters is a clever one. Juvenile, particularly when relying on a donkey character (the name Bottom is certainly a reference to the character that originated in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream), a buffoon who finds himself the beloved of the Queen of Fairies. The genders a reversed here, but it turns out both Hermia and Lysander are buffoons of a sort, in the way only the young people they are can be.

Uzuru carrying the purported love letter from Duck to Fakir, and the ensuing exchange is entertaining. Neither Duck nor Fakir seem to take it seriously, and while Fakir echoing Duck’s prediction of his response verbatim is plainly constructed, it’s very funny. The two of them have great chemistry together beyond their mutual goal of helping Mythos. I hope to see more of this.

And with that, I head out to watch the final seven episodes tonight. The wind-up is over.

I don’t know how many of you guys are watching Kiznaiver (mostly because I’ve been very poor at writing up those weekly posts this season due to the volume of stuff I’m watching), but episode 7 was really, really good. Good enough to motivate me to devote an entire post to detail how it, and the rest of the show, uses visuals to communicate beyond what the writing says.

Here’s the link~

I read things, which make me think of other things—which make me want to write things. Thus goes the cycle of my Aniwords columns. Speaking of which, I’m actually at my one-year anniversary writing weekly columns for Crunchyroll, which is a pretty exciting thing! That’s a lot of consecutive weeks of writing (although there were two weeks where I didn’t write anything because of work), and I don’t know if I ever would have imagined I would have lasted this long—let alone still be coming up with new ideas of things to say each week.

Here’s the link~

(More exciting news after the break, by the way!)

In addition to that, I’ve also been asked to take a small editorial role on the Features team for Crunchyroll. Say hello to Associate Features Editor iblessall! This promotion precedes an exciting new phase for the Features team over at Crunchyroll, and I’m really excited and proud to be a part of it.

Also, here’s another thanks to たくfor being willing to let me use his rad iM@S/Captain America: Civil War) art as the article’s feature image. I contacted him on Pixiv to get permission and he graciously said yes. Be sure to check out the rad trailer her made for the crossover!

Another week, another Aniwords! On the docket this week is My Hero Academia, which I confess I feel rather lax for having left untouched for this long. While I think the show’s pretty good, and even improves on the manga in places, ultimately I’ve been disappointed by how safe the adaptation’s been played. That being said, there’s still a ton of cool stuff going on My Hero Academia, and so I hit on some of those things this week. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Here’s the link~

I’ve been away on a business trip, which is why I’m late getting this one posted over here. I apologize for the blog’s relative deadness as of late – I promise I haven’t forgotten about it; just in a weird sort of funk with writing lately since work’s been crazy. Things should settle down by mid-July.

Anyways, this belated post is a (perhaps overly so) ambitious attempt by me to bring together some thoughts I’ve been having on My Hero Academia, Concrete Revolutio, and Space Patrol Luluco. Hope you guys enjoy it – if not, let me know if it was impregnable after all in the comments.

Here’s the link~

The Lost Village wasn’t the best anime that aired this season, nor was it anywhere close to being my favorite, but darn it, it was sure a heckuva a lot of fun to write about. I’ve long since passed by my formalist fan days (I remember telling one of my college professors that I was a formalist LOL), but talking about The Lost Village‘s formal qualities is very nearly the only way I can think to approach the show—as should be clear since this is the third post I’ve written on its formal elements. In any case, I hope you guys enjoy this wild post!

Here’s the link~

All this started because everyone was talking about something I hadn’t seen and I just had to be a part of the conversation.

I have not watched even a single minute of Kuma Miko, but when I heard through the Twitter grapevine that the scriptwriter for the anime adaptation of Masume Yoshimoto’s manga had deleted his account because of backlash against the show’s anime original ending, the urge to be in the know hit and I went searching out the basic information so I could Have Something to Say.

To summarize briefly what I discovered: Kuma Miko follows a young girl named Machi who lives in a rural village with a bear and some other adults. After spending much of the series wrestling with crippling social anxiety, she’s traumatized by an small-time idol performance she does at the behest of some of the adults in the town who want to revitalize the community. Following the the performance, the anime original ending is that Machi decides to give up her dream of going to school in the city and is told by her elders that she doesn’t need to think about anything at all any more—and suggestion she apparently takes so literally that her mental capacities regress to that of a 4 or 5 year old.

The fallout from this ending came, apparently, from a few different sources. Fans of the show, perhaps predictably, were outrage, but the original creator (who apparently had decided not to do script checks for the anime) also posted some comments that expressed a great deal of unhappiness with the way the adaptation had been handled.

Comments (now deleted) by Masume Yoshimoto re: the final episode of Kuma Miko. (Translation from here.)

Now, some of the details there might be missing, but that’s a general outline. Notably, however, this wasn’t even the baseline I began with when my curiosity was piqued by the controversy. This was the information I scraped together from reading Twitter and Reddit discussions about the ending, and from there I began to take in different people’s interpretations of the events. Generally speaking, these seemed to be pretty normal steps to take, but for some reason I was being much more analytical about my information-gathering process than normal. Perhaps it was because I’d seen different opinions voiced and different perspectives (and I mean that quite seriously, as in people approaching the situation from entirely different points) offered on the ending before I even knew what was going on.

And so, I found myself asking: “what are the questions I need to be able to answer before I can really say anything substantial about this situation?” Here’s what I came up with:

1. Descriptive: what actually happened in the anime, and how did it differ from the manga?
2. Interpretive: what was the intent behind these changes and how did they modify the message being communicated by the story?
3. Value: was this “right”?

This was the general outline I began operating form, but I quickly realized that while the first question was relatively easy to answer from second-hand accounts (i.e. my Reddit and Twitter research), the best answer was obviously to read the manga and watch the show myself. However, I realized that due to time constraints this was going to be impossible and so contented myself with doing as much research on those terms as I could. This meant that I read a few more tweets and Reddit posts. My methodology may have been slightly suspect.

This question more or less (less) answered, I turned my attention to the interpretive and found a couple of possible answers. The first, and least interesting, was that the anime staff’s intent was simply to blackball the manga’s story out pure malice & that the only message to come out of this was simply that the anime staff hated their work. While this may have been partially true, I considered a different option more interesting: from whatever motivation, the anime staff decided to manifest a certain perceived subtext within the original manga and highlight it through the show in a subtly deconstructive way designed to examine the disturbing implications of the source material’s setting. Again, not exactly a watertight methodology, but for the sake of continuing what had become a thought experiment for me at this point, I assumed the latter choice was true.

At last, I was on to the value question and immediately understood that this top-level question contained an overwhelming number of sub-questions I was going to have to answer before I could even think about coming up with a value judgement on the situation as a whole. Some of those questions:

• Was the manga’s original material so bad that it “deserved” to be changed in focus this way?
• Even if the manga was that bad, did the distortion of their original intent in such a contrary way automatically invalidate the any “rightness” of the change due to the sheer potential perceived meanness of it?
• And, finally, ultimately, who ultimately held creative ownership over the adaptation? The anime staff or the mangaka? In other words, ought the adaptation to have subscribe to the mangaka’s original intent or, as an adaptation, did creative ownership transfer to the anime staff?

The first question of this trio, although definitely one involving a value judgement, was one I couldn’t answer since I hadn’t read the manga myself, so I skipped it and moved to the second. I’ll confess: I was stumped for a while due to two competing forces—empathy for the mangaka and a desire to defend the art of adaptation. In the end, I swung towards supporting the adaptation on its own merits over the original creation (of course, taking the very necessary assumption that the anime staff had made the choices they did for the sake of making an artistic-creative choice, not out of simple spite).

Now, perhaps that choice seems like it foreshadowed an inevitable outcome to the final question (which, in turn, would answer the original value question equated to my final interpretation given my assumptions), but seeing as this was a general question whereas the preceding one was more about being nice, I found myself more puzzled. At the most basic level, I believe pretty strongly that adaptations ought to be judged on their own merits rather than on their faithfulness to their source, which already leans in favor of the adaptation’s right to be its own creative endeavor. Sure, the adaptation is takes the majority of its basic elements from the source, but the act of reinterpreting one creative work into another mirrors the creative process of reinterpreting reality into fiction. The action, though occurring in a different context, is shares many fundamentally similar elements.

That being said, anime adaptations of manga don’t exist in a convenient sphere where only the artistic impulse is relevant. When we consider the industry context, things are a bit different. As we’re all aware, anime adaptations frequently exist to act as commercials for their source material and to build up interest in related merchandise. Despite being creative efforts, their origins generally lie in the commercial, not the creative. Thus, for the anime staff, this means that they were given a specific job to accomplish. I don’t think it would be difficult to argue that this job likely was implied to entail a different sort of final product than what Kuma Miko ultimately became.

So, then, does the creative imperative ultimately outweigh the commercial? I’d like to argue yes, but when we begin to filter this abstract pondering back into the reality of the Kuma Miko controversy, adjacent facts complicate the theory because of the implications have on the original work, the commercial success of the job, and the unknown quantities that are the intentions of the anime staff.

In short, I don’t have a final opinion on Kuma Miko‘s ending. I simply don’t know enough to have any sort of reasonable opinion. I suppose I count that as a personal win, along with the pleasure I got from engaging in this line of thinking. That’s all I’ve got. Yoshio’s the worst.

It’s not often we get two different official sets of subtitles for a simulcasting anime, but that’s what happened with Concrete Revolutio (which was streamed by both Funimation and Daisuki here in the US). After seeing some screenshots from Funimation’s version of Conrevo‘s finale, which differed a bit from the Daisuki subs, I got it into my head to compare the two translations—what follows are the results, along with my commentary.

Season 1, Episode 8

Before we get to the finale, I want to first compare the translations of an important conversation between Jiro and Daitetsu from Episode 8 of season 1. Back when season 1 was still airing, I actually watched Funimation’s subs of the episode first, but when I rewatched the episode after the conclusion of the first season, I used Daisuki so avoid Funimation’s horrid contrast issues (which will be obvious in the side-by-side images below). When I got to the scene in question, I immediately noticed what, for me, was a significant and critical difference in the way a key phrase had been translated. I can’t remember for sure, but at the time I’m pretty sure I had a few thoughts already brewing about the significance in the difference between the translations—those thoughts have survived to this day. So, let’s take a look at the scene in question!

But before we get into it, I’ll also note that as an added treat for you guys, anime academic and translating whiz Frog-kun of frogkun.com was kind enough to provide me with the original Japanese lines and translations of them. I’ve included those beneath each image, so we’ll have three different translations to compare! All the English lines in the block quotes will be Frog-kun’s translations.

Daitetsu: 正義と悪は絶対違うものなんだと！

Justice and evil are completely different things!

Jiro: 正しいこと、間違っていることをはっきり決められる。俺は、正直言うと分からない。

You can clearly tell the difference between right and wrong. To be honest, I can’t.

It’s interesting to note the differences in the way the three translations treat Daitetsu’s opening line. Both Daisuki and Frog-kun translate the line as a very definitive assertion. It’s not a statement of the way reality ought to be, but of the way it is (at least, as Daitetsu sees it). This certainty of the reality actually winds up being pretty important to Daitetsu’s character, as he continues to hold stubbornly to this black and white view of the world where victory is equated to justice. “Supposed to be” seems almost a tacit acknowledgment that this isn’t actually the way things are, so sticking with the explicit assertion better informs the audience of the way Daitetsu’s character is.

As for Jiro’s lines, you’ll notice both Froggy and Daisuki have translated them in the exact same way. In simple terms of the language, I prefer that translation to Funimation’s, as it flows much better and sounds more natural. In addition, the phrase Jiro uses, “to be honest,” expresses the fundamental earnestness of his character, which is an important piece of his overall characterization at this point in the show.

Jiro: 俺は・・・せめて正義の味方になりたいと思っている。

I do want to be an ally of justice, at least.

Daitetsu: 正義の味方？流行らないよ。まるでノンポリだ。

An ally of justice? That won’t win anyone over. It’s like being non-political.

And here’s where things get really important. First, a word from Froggy on translating this particular bit:

“The “non-political” (ノンポリ) line is quite an ambiguous one. Both Daisuki and Funi, I think, miss the point of it. The crucial part of the utterance is 流行らないよ , which Daisuki translated as “old” and Funi translated as “lame”. The verb 流行る doesn’t always have connotations about being appealing, though. In fact, it literally means something along the lines of “to be prevalent” or “to come into fashion”. That’s why I chose to translate it here as “that won’t win anyone over”. Yumihiko is saying that Jiro’s argument isn’t persuasive to anyone but himself. That’s why he compares it to being non-political.”

We’ll touch on the “ally of justice”/”hero” difference with the next sequence and Froggy’s explanation of choosing “that won’t win anyone over” is convincing enough for me to buy it—I found both Daisuki and Funimation’s translations to be rather odd when I saw them, and I think Froggy’s translation does the line and the sense of the conversation much better justice.

As for Jiro’s expression of his wish in the first line, then, I find myself torn between Funimation’s translation and Froggy’s translation. I find Froggy’s “do want” gives a better sense of Jiro’s desire, but I’m also a sucker for the “I…I want” construction used in Funimation’s translation. In short, translation is super subjective, and if you throw in the subjective preferences of a third-party viewer… well.

Jiro: だが、誰もが白か黒になれるわけじゃないか。たとえ灰色でも、その人が正義を信じるのなら、俺は正義の味方でいたい。

But not everyone can be black or white. Even if someone is gray, I’ll still want to be their ally as long as they believe in justice.

And so, we come to the most important lines of the scene, the episode, and possibly (as I see it) the entire first season of Concrete Revolutio. At this point in the story, Jiro is really starting to wrestle with the question of how to reconcile his desire to believe in justice and the gray realities of the world around him and his own place in it.  And the phrase 正義の味方 (seigi no mikata) is more or less the key to this whole puzzle (it appears in the previous sequence, as well). 

Again, I saw Funimation’s translation of this episode first, and I was immediately struck by how well the phrase “ally of justice” seemed to express this very gray way of understanding the world. Neither Daisuki’s nor Funimation’s translations make clear in the way that Froggy’s translation does that Jiro is directing his desire to align with “justice” towards those who believe in it—in other words, people. This is a better significant thing, as the post-protests Jiro of season 2 spend nearly all his time helping superhumans and those who “believe in justice” (recall the daughter of Human-Man).

A word from Froggy on this important phrase:

“The phrase 正義の味方 (seigi no mikata) has been translated in various ways across different media, and even in Conrevo itself it has been translated inconsistently. In this context, Jiro is quite literally talking about being an “ally” of this concept of justice, as opposed to something like an enforcer or a protector or a hero, and so “ally of justice” is the most fitting translation here.”

Daisuki’s translation of the phrase is, I think, actually critically poor because of the many different connotations and definitions “hero” has both within Conrevo‘s specific vocabulary and outside of the show. Funimation’s translation still doesn’t quite grasp the entire nature of the lines, but I think they got the most important part right. Being an “ally of justice” is all Jiro believes himself capable of until the finale of the show, rather than considering himself a superhuman (with an implied “of justice” at the end). And speaking of the finale…

Season 2, Episode 11 (Series Finale)

As I mentioned earlier, the differences I noticed in translation in the series finale of Concrete Revolutio were the impetus for this entire post, so I hope you’ll continue to humor me as we forge ahead.

Jiro:たった一つの正しいことを求めても、自分の心すらままならない。それでも、探し続ける意味はある！

My heart wavers, no matter how much I seek one absolute truth. But there is meaning in continuing the search.

Satomi: ない。無駄の努力だ。

No, there isn’t. It’s wasted effort.

Of particular interest to me is that Froggy, like the Daisuki translator, maintains the first-person singular voice. I think this is a really important piece of what makes this line effective—it’s not abstracted to the first-person plural, but it’s Jiro speaking about himself. This is what I want to see in my shows, and it’s what Conrevo was really offering! The fact that Jiro was speaking about himself makes this line infinitely more relatable and compelling than the preachy-sounding first-person plural, and that’s completely lost in Funimation’s translation.

It was really interesting to see people’s reactions to these comparison images when I showed them on Twitter before writing these posts. Almost without exception, the people who had seen the show preferred Daisuki’s translation (as I did), while those who hadn’t liked Funimation’s better. I’m not really sure what to draw from this data, but the sample size was pretty small so it’s probably not a great idea to try and extrapolate any particular interpretation from that experience. What I can note, however, is that those who hadn’t seen the show mentioned that Funimation’s translation seemed to flow better—which I disagree with.

In fact, I actually prefer Daisuki’s translation most out of the three options, if only for its brevity and punchiness. There is a simplicity to the lines that lends them, I think, a kind of clarity that cannot be replicated by “more accurate” translations, which (as can be seen) tend to run a bit longer. This carries over into Satomi’s lines, as well, where I feel like the shortness of Daisuki’s translation does the best job of conveying Satomi’s dismissive attitude towards Jiro’s statements. This isn’t to say Froggy’s translation is bad (I don’t like Funimation’s at all), but perhaps speaks to how my perceptions of the moment and the characters effect the way I see the translations.

Jiro: 超人には必ず対になる悪がいる。俺たちはあんたという悪を倒す、超人だ！

Frog-kun’s Translation: There is always an evil for superhumans to oppose. As superhumans, we will defeat evil—you!

Before we finish up with this final sequence, let’s check in with Froggy one more time:

“Conrevo’s dialogue is rather theatrical, even in Japanese. But it’s extra difficult [when translating] to retain the rhythm and punch these lines have because so much meaning is packed into each word. In English, you’d have to extend the utterances in order to convey all the meaning. As a result, it’s very easy to make the lines sound convoluted!”

Convoluted is right! These are big and complex thoughts being delivered in a relatively small space. As seen most prominently in the Funimation translation, it’s easy for the ideas to get garbled up in the transition between languages (although who knows if the Japanese viewers had an easier time trying to wrap their heads around all this).

Again, for my part, I return to the idea of the personal arc, which I think Daisuki best captures to great effect. Both the use of the first-person singular and the sequencing of the lines lead into the finale frame, in which Jiro declares with the close-up, “I’m a superhuman!” One thing I’ve always hated about Funimation subtitles is their tendency to bunch up lines together and leave them on screen for long periods of time. Because the line doesn’t change with the image from the second to the third shot, the close-up’s impact is visual only—while Daisuki’s changing of the subtitle along with the shot (combined with the personalization of the moment) makes clear how big a moment this is.

And it is a big moment! After all this time, after all this doubt, searching, and wondering, Jiro finally embraces himself as a superhuman of justice opposed to Satomi’s cynicism. It’s not only a declaration of the need to defeat Satomi, but the climax of Jiro’s personal arc and it empowers the remains of the Superhuman Bureau to act to defend him. Fantastic—translation and the art of subtitling come together to create a superb personal moment, which, thanks to Conrevo‘s set up, resonates in a beautiful way with everything else the show has been trying to do to this point. Maybe it’s not the most strictly accurate translation, but as a component of the show’s overall message a drama, it’s really cool.

Brief Thoughts on Translated Realities

Having already made it all the way through this exercise, I suppose it’s a bit late to be asking this question, but I’ll still ask it: does any of this matter?

My answer: heck yes, it does! Translation’s ultimately an art of adaptation—among other things—and that adaptation shapes the reality of the show for the viewers, particularly when they don’t understand the original language. If someone were to see only one of the three translations I’ve compared in this post, they would be likely to believe that it was the “correct” translation. That translation becomes a reality of the show for them, and, as we’ve seen, a poor translation can hinder the audience’s understanding of the show’s intent or a translation that differs slightly in focus can change the audience’s perceptions of the story and characters. So, the translation is very important, especially when it comes to shows as dense and reliant on the words being said as Conrevo is.

The other question to ask might be to wonder whether I, as someone who can’t understand Japanese (yet!), can really have any say on a topic like this. After all, I’m completely reliant on the translations of others to acquire even a basic understanding of the lines—I have no personal comprehension of the Japanese language being spoken within the show.

Well, I recently had a chance to read through a certain thesis written by a certain frog, and some of the ideas proposed within regarding fan translation have made me fell like I do possess a particular kind of expertise that qualifies me to have thoughts on this topic—that is, I have the context of the show and my understanding of its themes and my impressions of its character. And since Concrete Revolutio‘s dialogue (particularly in the two scenes I talked about in this post) is very tightly linked to its themes, I have a more than just my thoughts on what sounds most natural in English to inform my opinion on the translations here.

This doesn’t directly flow from Froggy’s thesis, which speaks more generally about fans applying genre-specific knowledge and cultural assumptions to translation, but I think the principle is still quite similar: because of my familiarity with Conrevo, even though my impressions and opinions are mediated through translations, I’m capable of forming my own understanding of the characters and applying that understanding to the translations. I think, even had I not have watched Funimation’s subs first, what I already knew about Conrevo and Jiro would have alerted me that something was not quite right about the way Daisuki translated seigi no mikata as “hero.” At least, I think so.

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got! A special thanks to Frog-kun for offering the translations and excellent commentary on those translations. This ended up turning out a bit longer than I expected, but I hope it was a good read. And, of course, if you haven’t watched Concrete Revolutio yet, I really recommend that you do! It’s a wonderful show.

I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve decided to take a strictly personal angle on an anime-related topic during my three years of anime writing, but today I’ve got another addition to that particular collection—although I couldn’t tell you why I chose to do so. It just kind of happened. Spontaneously, like a song… in a musical! Whoa.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoy me going a little more introspective than normal (although I’ve snuck in some analytical pieces here and there, teehee).

Here’s the link~

Spring 2016 was ridiculous. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched 10+ shows in a season, but this season made me do it. In addition, the top level of shows this season were ridiculous. We had basically two competing AOTS shows (fortunately, only one actually ended this season). In short, I had a whole bunch of fun—my weekly schedule this season felt like coming home each time I started in on it.

[If you want to recap the entire fall season, from my first impressions all the way through the stuff I managed to write this season, you can hit up everything I’ve written in the Spring 2016 tag!]

9. Tanaka-kun is Always Listless (4/10)

Perhaps appropriately for a show like this, I felt like Tanaka-kun is Always Listless kind of ran out of steam after the first few episodes. The big charm point of early Tanaka-kun was the combination of sleepy humor, neat art design, effective Non Non Biyori-like direction, and quiet reflections on friendship and high school identity. The later two of these I felt was mostly lost as the show tracked on, as things turned more towards self-contained jokes that fell flat about as often as they landed. All the characters in the show are, actually, pretty good, but Tanaka-kun never really did much with them and Tanaka’s final realization in the show’s finale felt like too little, too late. In the end, I suppose I really just prefer my slow slice-of-life anime with a bit more atmosphere to them, and Tanaka-kun never really ended up providing that, which feels like a bit of a waste.

Awards: (Honorable Mention: Best Visual Aesthetic)

8. Bungou Stray Dogs (5/10)

I usually don’t rank shows that I didn’t finish, and while I technically didn’t finish Bungou (I skipped episode 8, the finale of the anime original arc), I feel like I got a good enough sense of its character from what I saw (everything else) to let it show up here. The last Igarashi show I watched in full was Captain Earth and while Bungou isn’t really much like Captain Earth, I feel it’s plagued by some of the same issues (characters feel weightless, narrative is pretty much a mess), but fortunately those issues are less an issue given Bungou‘s somewhat lighter feel. I generally enjoyed the comedy in Bungou, which also served to cushion some of the other issues by way of keeping me entertained. That same humor did feel rather at odds with the sudden violence that punctuated the show. In the end, I never did feel Bungou bridged that gap very well, but both sides were fun enough (especially after Kyouka’s entrance) that it all wound out okay! I’ll be watching season 2.

Awards: (Honorable Mentions: Best OP—”Trash Candy” by GRANRODEO, Best ED—”Namae wo Yobu yo” by Luck Life)

7. Sansha Sanyou (5/10)

Time for moe! Sansha Sanyou‘s definitely at the lower end of Dogakobo’s comparable shows, but with a great OP and some pretty solid characters, I enjoyed it well enough. These kind of shows live and die by A) the characters being independently fun, and B) the show moving along at a good clip between bits, and Sansha Sanyou managed that quite well in Yasahiro Kimura’s directorial debut. Futaba, Hayama, and Yoko were a solid trio, and some of the peripheral characters (Kou, Sonobe, and Nishiyama) did a good job of supporting the central dynamic. Futaba, in particular, was a standout, backed by Mai Kanazawa’s astounding vocals. As always, one of the pleasures of watching Dogakobo shows was seeing some of the production quirks, like Enishi Oshima’s solo KA episode and all the cats in the show being animated on the 1’s (what the heck). Cute show, good watch.

Awards: (Honorable Mentions: Best OP—”Clover Kakume-tion” by Triple Feeling, Best Female Character—Futaba Odagiri)

6. Space Patrol Luluco (5/10)

Someday, Trigger will stop being so freaking in love with itself and actually make a total complete good show in the Trigger style, but Space Patrol Luluco was not that. With flat visuals (even as a joke, they’re unengaging) and a seemingly endless chain of self-references, some effective and some much less so, Luluco often felt too indebted to Trigger’s previous works to actually be fully its own thing. And that’s a real bummer, because the core of Luluco the character’s story was great! When the narrative actually focused on Luluco’s journey (and when the show was actually animated), it was charming, fun, and even touching. Sadly, the Trigger mania never quite let the glimmer of Luluco’s crystal heart show through the way it deserved to.

Awards: Best Short, Best ED—”Pipo Password” by Teddy Loid feat. Bonjour Suzuki (Honorable Mention: Best Female Character—Luluco)

5. Flying Witch (6/10)

I keep telling people J.C. Staff is good, but nobody listens to me. I sadly doubt Flying Witch cause any changes on that front, but I guess I can be happy it was received as well as it was. And deservingly so! Flying Witch is really good! It’s not quite in the top tier of slice-of-life shows, but it has some truly sublime moments in the matter of fact way it overlaps the mundane world and the world of magic (the first moment Makoto flies in episode one, the entrance into the cafe in the middle of the show, and the floating fish lights in the season finale all stand out as prime examples of this). I’m always a sucker for combinations of magic and the real world and the way Flying Witch does it makes it seem almost possible, almost real. That’s a special thing, and while I sort of wish the show had gone that route more often than it did, there’s probably something to be said for moderation. Would have liked more Nao, by the way, but that’s neither here nor there.

Awards: Best Slice of Life (Honorable Mention: Best OST)

4. Mayoiga (6/10)

Probably the most difficult show of the season to rank on my personal scale – I simply don’t have established patterns for shows like Mayoiga to slot into. What do you do with shows like this, where the primary attractions are absurdism and formal experimentation? How do you assess that sort of thing – even on just a personal basis? For me, I ended up just coming to the realization that messing around with form just isn’t as valuable an endeavor to me as those the shows above attempted. That being said, wow, was Mayoiga a fascinating work. There was no show this season that I had more fun writing about and talking about that Mizushima and Okada’s formal shitpost, a show that could seemingly do anything and everything. It was funny, it was touching, it was tense, it was dumb. It was no Kill Me Baby, but it was pretty darn good.

Awards: Best Adventure, Best Comedy (Honorable Mention: Best OST)

3. Kiznaiver (7/10)

Mari Okada the anime filtered through first-time series director Hiroshi Kobayashi’s brilliant cinematographic eye was a really a wonderful thing to watch. Although I felt the back half of the show after episode 7 sort of lost touch with the things that made the first part of the show special (lighter character interactions, small moments of friendship), Kiznaiver never fell apart the way I feared it might. I suppose that sounds like damning with faint praise, and yes, there were issues like the failure to effectively reconcile Sonozaki and Katsuhira’s narrative with the “misfits become friends” stuff, but on the whole Kiznaiver is something I’m glad I watched and something I’m glad exists. If nothing else, it reaffirmed my positive feeling about Okada and gave me a promising new director to keep an eye out for. Oh, and Chidori was really cute. I wanted to give her a hug. Actually, I basically wanted to give all of the main cast hugs. And adopt them. Dumb kids, I love you.

Awards: Best Drama, Best Visual Aesthetic, Best OST, Best OP—”LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME” by Boom Boom Satellites, Best Female Character—Nico Niyama (Honorable Mention: Best Story)

2. My Hero Academia (7/10)

That My Hero Academia didn’t even come close to hitting the ceiling of this adaptation’s potential and still winds up in this spot is a testament to just how strong the source material is. While the adaptation strictures clearly had an impact on Kenji Nagasaki’s ability to pace the show in a non-glacial way, he and composer Yuuki Hayashi made magic moment after magic moment in episode after episode in a way I frankly didn’t think was possible. Nagaski clearly had his finger on the pulse of what makes this manga great and to be able to tap into that wellspring of inspiration whenever the opportunity was offered despite everything blocking the way, well… it’s incredible. I cried so many times watching this show, and often it felt like it came out of nowhere. Hotly anticipating the second season and rumored increased episode count—here’s hoping Nagasaki will get a little bit more room to breath. But, for now, My Hero Academia is super solid, even if it fell short of being everything it could have been.

Awards: Best Action (Honorable Mentions: Best Male Character—All Might, Izuku Midoriya)

1. Concrete Revolutio S2 (10/10)

Despite the gap between second and first place, the scores still don’t do an adequate job of reflecting just how far ahead of the pack Concrete Revolutio‘s second season was. The first season was my favorite show of 2015, but this season was even better in a way I didn’t believe was possible. Despite being mostly episodic and only really closing out its overarching storylines in the final two episodes, Concrete Revolutio S2 managed to be emotionally impactful nearly every week – and it always had something to say. And then to cap all that off with a phenomenal windup and absolute titan of a finale… what more is there to say? This is Shou Aikawa’s baby and his masterpiece. It’s the best show of the season, potentially the best show of the entire year, and without question one of the top shows of the decade. Yes, it is that good. Shows like this are the reason I keep watching anime season after season.

Awards: Best Story, Best Fantasy, Best Male Character—Jiro Hitoyoshi (Honorable Mentions: Best Visual Aesthetic, Best ED—”ALL-WAYS” by Yohske Yamamoto feat. Nami Tamaki)

 Ongoing

Macross Delta (13/25 – currently, idols/10); Re:ZERO (currently – 5/10); Mahoutsukai Precure (16/48 – currently, 6/10)

Dropped

 Unawarded

• Pet Show of the Season, Honorable Mention: Best Story, Best Harem, Best Sports

And so, we move on to the summer season, carrying presumed AOTS Macross Delta with us (Macross Delta is stupid good, by the way). The way things are looking right now, it’ll be another busy season, but I’m hoping for a slightly better spread of values this time. We’ll see! Anime almost always seems to have some sort of surprise in wait for us each season!

So, it’s that time of the year again, that time of the year that comes around four times a year, that time of year when a bunch of new anime start all at once and it’s a mad scramble to try and watch all the things I at least want to try. And with this season’s premieres being so spread out over a long period of time, halfway through premiere week I’ll have to take a break, but that’s neither here nor there. Let’s hit it!

The Best Premiere so Far: orange

First things first: I adore this manga. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and with the news of a live action movie a while back, I’d all but given up hope for it getting an anime adaptation. But here we are, and with a director who’s more than just a placeholder – Hiroshi Hamasaki – at the helm. I’m exceedingly grateful the stars aligned for this to happen. orange truly is a radiant story, and although I’ve only written about the manga in part, don’t let that fool into thinking I hold this tale in anything less but the highest regard.

So. How was the first episode of the adaptation? In a word: very, very good. I’m not sure if Hiroshi Hamasaki is the “best” match for this source material, but he definitely has a distinctive vision that he’s bringing to orange, keeping it very far away indeed from looking like a boilerplate shoujo adaptation. orange never did have the greatest art, but Hamasaki and his team have done a wonderful job of making Naho’s world look and feel like a real place. And, most importantly, the adaptation nailed the camaraderie between the main sextet instantly. From the moment the group got together, even with Kakeru being an outsider, it all just seemed right. For me, this was the most critical element of the adaptation, and the anime nailed it. Given what I know of the source material—which isn’t exceedingly long, by the way—I’m now completely confident orange will not only be a good adaptation of a great manga, but also a great anime on its own terms. I’m very excited. Verdict: absolutely, without a doubt. My top recommendation of the season so far.

Things that are Cute (and on the Bubble)

Momokuri

The description of Momokuri made it sound like it was going to be a lot more uncomfortable than it ended up actually being. Kurihara, despite being a bit of a stalker, manages to come off relatively charming in her devotion to Momo. Now, whether or not that’s a good thing is another question, but within the particular space of this anime I don’t have a problem with it. Although Momokuri makes light of her obsessiveness, Kurihara’s down-to-earth friend Norika provide enough of a counterbalance to avoid the show entirely approving of Kurihara’s behavior. And so, with that said, Momokuri is super cute! There’s tons of blushy-blushy going on between the two leads, so if you like this kind of saccharine fluff (I do), Momokuri‘s got it in spades. There’s a moment early in the first half of the episode where Momo and Kurihara catch each other looking at the other and then smile, albeit somewhat awkwardly, at each other. That’s gold. Verdict: we’ll see how things go!

The Morose Mononokean

It was a thoroughly pleasant premiere. I’ve always been a bit of a sucker for these light sort of slice-of-lifey shows that engage Japan’s mythology (Gingitsune comes to mind immediately), and The Morose Mononokean is definitely a show that falls into category. This premiere, although somewhat visually dull, was wound up being engaging from start to finish – not least because I enjoyed Yuki Kaji’s wailing and the constant smug look the yokai attached to him had on its face. While it’s definitely on the lower end of the premieres I’ve seen  due to the fact that it doesn’t have a ton of real substance to it (and I don’t really anticipate that’ll change), the cast seems solid so far and I’m hoping that flipping back and forth between worlds and engaging the unique qualities of the yokai they’ll face each episode will make it worth the time. Verdict: not automatically in, but close.

Idol Anime, Good and Bad

Good: Love Live! Sunshine

It feels like forever ago that I first came into contact with Love Live!, back when I picked up the second season in the middle of Spring 2014 to write a review about a show no one else seemed interested in covering for the Crunchyroll Newsletter. Little did I know what I was getting into, and even though I finished the show weekly after mostly enjoying it, I still didn’t know at that time what a juggernaut of a franchise I’d jumped into. Well, here we are, over two years later, and the successor to Love Live!‘s second season is here. I confess I have somewhat mixed feelings at all, but the final verdict here is simply that Sunshine is, without a doubt, Love Live! The voice actresses all sound like the newbies they are, the CG still isn’t that great, but the music and the overall mood carried the first episode through in a way that only a true successor to the original Love Live! could. And that’s something that just kind of defies analysis. It was a raucous, super speedy first episode, but the spirit of the original surely lives—and I’m glad. Verdict: need I even say it?

Bad: B-Project

I suppose there can only be so many Starmyus, and B-Project is definitely not one of them. I make it a point each season to try out at least one of the inevitable guyidol anime that air, always hoping that I’ll find one that has the spark, but I’ve yet to find one that really did it for me (although the aforementioned Starmyu came very close, enough so that I may go back to it someday). B-Project joins the rejects, and not solely because, as I’ve found with many shows like this, it felt quite sterile and lethargic throughout. There’s no sense of movement or purpose – and even as a vehicle simply for strutting out the bishounen it falls flat. But the real issue for me was the lack of any kind of structure to this episode’s narrative. Even dismissing the introductions at the beginning of the episode, the emotional logic of the recording session was spacey as heck and the resolution was even more nonsensical than I’d expected. Let’s hope Tsukiuta is better. Verdict: dropped.

Soccer is Good: DAYS

Have I ever told you guys that soccer is my favorite sport? Well, it is, but soccer (due to the amount of running involved) is probably among the sports you’d least want to make an anime about because holy crap that’s a lot of animation you’re going to be needing to do. And so, I find myself pleasantly surprised that A) DAYS exists as an anime, and B) that it’s good! The show feels decidedly offbeat to me, which is a bit surprising for a story that seems to want to follow the normal shounen template, but I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just not quite as hot-blooded as I was thinking it would be, possibly due to the fact that protagonist Tsukamoto is about the most mild-mannered dude you could find without having him be a total doormat. There are some other interesting pieces in play – a childhood friend who doesn’t seem like she’ll be a love interest, a female manager whose design looks like she came out of an entirely different show, and the question of how many episodes the show will get. Whatever happens, I’m on board, though. It’s soccer, the best sport, after all! Verdict: a keeper.

Still to Watch: Mob Psycho 100, Sweetness and Lighting, D. Gray Man, Taboo Tattoo, Show by Rock!! Short!!, New Game!, Battery, Konobit, Amanchu!, 91 Days.