Sokushi Cheat takes a more extreme approach to the "overpowered protagonist" concept; the protagonist Yogiri Takatou not only never loses, but he also rarely showcases internal conflicts or opinionated goals to work towards. Author Tsuyoshi Fujitaka mentioned in an interview that this is exactly what he wanted to play with — a protagonist who never struggles until the very end. Fujitaka's concept naturally alienates many, for by design there is little to get attached to in the story's journey, and there's essentially no tension. However, this idea has potential to carry out a more lax attitude regardless of the intensity of scenarios. The nature of
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nothing in existence being able to threaten Yogiri enables him to engage with the fantasy world in a detached and reactive fashion. The most cataclystic of world events become moments that simply happen; Yogiri is there but effectively doesn't interact with it save for when he or his group would be threatened. The absurdities of Yogiri's capacities offer a license to examine a world filled with chaos and metaphysical absurdity without placing emphasis on the scope and extremity of such things. It establishes an avenue by which any fantastical concept can be framed as unimportant. In this way, I find the work conceptually intriguing.
Like many other Narou works, a lot of Sokushi Cheat's interactions are centered around self-awareness of its genre. Characters will make fun of the oddies of the setting and the absurd trajectories that arise from Yogiri's powers. There's an occasional amusing joke every once in a while, but rarely does the work standout in its self-awareness. One edge Sokushi Cheat has in its making jokes about its own concepts is that because there's no limit to the scope of power the other characters can have (by virtue of no level of power mattering against Yogiri), the work is able to take certain concepts to a more peculiar conceptualization and make fun of them. An example is a character whose base power is "cooking", but this power can be stretched to have unreasonably versatile applications from the holder's framing of everything in the lens of cooking. Elements like this are compounded left and right into the series, leading to a chaotic mess that couldn't really fly in a setting where the interaction of characters would have to be more stable, but Sokushi Cheat's world is able to as unstable as it wants by virtue of the protagonist's foundation. Any unstable element will eventually be nullified by Yogiri's intervention, opening the door to interactions of components far more absurd than in more conventional works.
Many Fujitaka works (e.g. Sokushi Cheat, My Big Sister Lives in a Fantasy World, and Harumi’s Legacy as the Strongest Mimic) have a particular absurd identity to their character interactions, as it's quite common for them to engage in conceptual discussions that feel too peculiar for regular characters to be conversing about. The conversations can sometimes feel too absurd to be organic which can be a turn-off, but at the same time, there's a particular charm to these overly conceptual conversations by virtue of how aberrant they are compared to conventional discourse. The anime adaptation for Sokushi Cheat unfortunately loses much of this, as the adaptation goes at a brisk pace and rushes towards the larger plot events. There are still remnants of these moments, such as the scene in episode 1 where the main heroine Tomochika Dannoura probes Yogiri on what his stance would be if Tomochika were to hypothetically betray him, but these are still far more tame compared to the more absurd conversations that were omitted. Consequently, the anime's conversations don't stand out as much as they could have, which is fairly unfortunate since with a lack of tension, character interactions and jokes are some of the main ways the show would be able to draw interest.
Some of Sokushi Cheat's more interesting moments involve characters trying to gain insight on the nature of Yogiri's powers. The clash with vampire sage Lain offered a fair bit of info on how different conditions interact with Yogiri, many of them failing and some at least offering an indirect way to survive. Such moments provide another avenue of interest, because while viewers may be aware of how futile dealing with Yogiri can be, characters in-universe will cling to possibilities. This enables an amusing information game that, while it's destined to fail, the way characters approach the herculean task of overcoming Yogiri's powers can be interesting to see. Unfortunately, the last third of the anime chose to rush its way to the more eventful moments, which led to the omission of one of the most compelling instances of such moments. It's with decisions like this that I feel the adaptation fails to fully captatilize on how the work retains interest in a tension-like environment. The rushing to eventful moments has less weight when these eventful moments have such anti-climatic moments to begin with, by virtue of Yogiri's invincibility.
Tomochika has some amusing straightman moments, but a lot of her banter doesn't add anything new. She does have one standout moment when she describes how she conceptualizes Yogiri's powers in relation to her morals, and Yogiri's reaction to this is one of the most standout aspects of her dynamic. Save for that however, her more notable conversations and self-reflections that existed in the source material did not make it into the adaptation. As such, she doesn't have a whole lot going for her apart from her standard straightman jokes.
While I do bring up a few ways in which the adaptation lacks some of the source material's best merits, that isn't to say that the core source material fully capitalizes on its concept. Although I admire Fujitaka's ultimate vision and some arcs have amusingly satisfying and chaotic payoffs, some of the shortcomings of the anime stem simply from certain arcs themselves having a trajectory or conclusion that doesn't offer much. The series has shown its capability of creating amusing constructions with the concept, such as conflicts that have been resolved before they have even begun yet the unknowing characters still take events seriously, or events piling onto each other in a way that feels incomprehensible by virtue of the main characters being outsiders to the unfolding scenario. However, for each of these more interesting trajectories, there's conclusions where characters simply come across Yogiri and die. Many occurances lack the thoughtfulness to be satisfying.
As someone who is willing to engage with tensionless fantasy works, Sokushi Cheat is a work whose concept I respect, and I commend the author's commitment to the lack of a protagonist struggle throughout. Nonetheless there are plenty of shortcomings both with the core work and the work's adaptation. I do hope that more authors experiment with the degree of lack of struggle that Sokushi Cheat does, as if capitalized with more creative trajectories, this sort of idea could be fascinating in challenging the standard storytelling constructions writers use to appeal to an audience.
Mar 23, 2024 Mixed Feelings
Sokushi Cheat takes a more extreme approach to the "overpowered protagonist" concept; the protagonist Yogiri Takatou not only never loses, but he also rarely showcases internal conflicts or opinionated goals to work towards. Author Tsuyoshi Fujitaka mentioned in an interview that this is exactly what he wanted to play with — a protagonist who never struggles until the very end. Fujitaka's concept naturally alienates many, for by design there is little to get attached to in the story's journey, and there's essentially no tension. However, this idea has potential to carry out a more lax attitude regardless of the intensity of scenarios. The nature of
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Reviewer’s Rating: 5
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Nov 9, 2022
Yuusha wa Shimei wo Wasureteru
(Manga)
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Recommended
As a big fan of comedy series that highlight the bizarre thought patterns of a character, “Yuusha wa Shimei wo Wasureteru” was exactly the kind of manga I was looking for. It takes the common structure of a Hero being destined to defeat a Demon Lord and portrays a comedic dynamic that ensues when the role of the Hero becomes obsolete. In this case, the Demon Lord has no malicious intent and simply aims to govern the Demon Lord well, which breaks the world's recurring pattern of a clash between a Hero and the Demon Lord. What follows is a manzai routine between the
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two where Nue—the Demon Lord—objects to the absurd, unreasonable, and partly contradictory thought-trains of Hizumi—the Heroine. The familarity of the Hero and Demon Lord structure provides the manga room to use the Heroine's expectations of how the situation should play out to make extreme claims that Nue can challenge. The disfunctional aspects of Hizumi's character also lend well as an expression of her backdrop, where she's shortsighted in nearly every regard by virtue of predicating her existence on her assigned role as the one to conquer the Demon Lord.
The joy in reading this manga comes from how fitting the dynamic between the two feels. Nue's retorts are a seamless means of highlighting Hizumi's peculiar way of thinking, and Hizumi's unreasonable thought-train remains consistent throughout the manga. There's a playfulness that arises from many of Hizumi's remarks that help ease the romantic elements of the work. Furthermore, although the series is fast-paced in its transition between jokes in Manzai fashion, it is rewarding to see even some seemingly throwaway interactions be incorporated into the future comedic conversations. One example that comes to mind is how Hizumi latches onto a moment of her being flustered by one of Nue's actions as a poor excuse to justify her desire to learn Nue's weaknesses. Her logic in tying these two elements doesn't follow at all rationally, but after witnessing her eccentricities over the course of the manga, her following this logic becomes a convicing application of her character. It's this seamless compounding of Hizumi's peculiar ways of reacting to situations and Nue's ability to ground her eccentricies that makes the dynamic satisfying to see play out. It certainly helps that the manga is only a volume long, as it never gets to the point where its central dynamic get stale without subverting it. The length offers enough room to get immersed in Hizumi's absurdies without them being tiresome. The conciseness of the work also helps contain the jokes and draw rewarding throughlines between them. For a short comedy manga putting a spin on a conventional fantasy structure, “Yuusha wa Shimei wo Wasureteru” is a pleasant experience.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Jan 25, 2019 Recommended
To the orphans of Star Kids home, the Sunny, a broken down car, is their ray of hope. Unsure of whether they'll ever return to their families, these kids rely on their imagination to give them consolation. Taiyou Matsumoto captures the hardships of the many children at Star Kids home, each with their own ways of coping with their lives. White-haired Haruo uses the Sunny to escape into a fantasy where he's an outlaw on the run, mirroring his tendency to rebel to cope with his feelings of isolation. Sei, the bookworm, imagines driving in the Sunny towards his home and meeting up with his
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parents. He keeps his feelings dormant, clinging to his hope that his parents will return for him, even though time and time again, they don't. The kids find their unique ways of maintain hope. Junsuke, for example, clings to his umbrella at all times, affirming that it is his house and helps his little brother look for four-leaf clovers for their mother. The stories of these children are saddening but how they keep going is beautiful. Matsumoto does a fantastic job with the web of relationships between the members of the orphanage. He aptly portrays how the kids affect each other's actions and beliefs and how they differ in their perception of the other orphans. Even the seemingly selfish Haruo can show signs of empathy when his friends are insecure. The bond between the orphans is very strong, whether they admit to it or not. Although they show signs of quarreling, these children are able to keep going in life thanks to the friendships they form. They want to leave the orphanage and return to their families, yet cannot bear to see their friends leave them. Ultimately, the children behave like children, with their own mood swings, moments of sympathy and selfishness, and their drive to live a satisfying life amidst their hardships.
The parents have their own reasons and regrets for leaving their children, and Matsumoto poignantly captures the personal, bittersweet meetings of the children with their parents. Both the children and the parents cherish the moments they can spend time with each other but knowing that they have to eventually part ways again, they're unable to fully enjoy these reunions. Some meetings tear apart the relationships between the children and their parents, but the parents still seek to keep in touch even when the children seemed to have abandoned them. Many of these parents have admirable intentions but are constrained by their conditions, whether it be alcohol addiction, divorce, or poverty. The circumstances of life are not ideal, but each character has to move forward. Matsumoto sticks close to reality with this manga, drawing upon his own experiences as an orphan to the point that he feared the characers in his story were too similar to real people in his life. This inspiration from reality definitely shows, as Sunny is able to maintain its realism from beginning to end. Sunny's artwork is peculiar but very fitting. Its rough and unidealized nature works wonders to convey flawed characters. The cluttered feeling captured by the artwork complements the messiness of life seen throughout the manga. Sunny is a work best experienced rather than analyzed and one that demonstrates the beauty that can be found in a harsh life. The ending of Sunny leaves the reader wishing for more, unable to fully depart from this beautiful story.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Apr 7, 2018
Dragon Ball: Episode of Bardock
(Anime)
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Not Recommended
Episode of Bardock is a spin-off that doesn’t need to exist. Breaking pre-established rules from the Dragon Ball canon while ruining the point of the superior Bardock Special, this OVA is essentially a fanfiction with next to no merit.
The original Bardock special emphasized how ordinary and insignificant Bardock is. Although granted the power to see the future, he dies while having no impact whatsoever. He wasn't the hope to save the Saiyan race from Friezaa but merely an ordinary individual who strived to make a change but accomplished nothing. In a franchise of extraordinary individuals, Bardock is effectively special by not being special. ... Episode of Bardock completely strips this tragic tale that the original Bardock special established. Rather than die by the hands of Frieza, Bardock is transported to the past, without explanation, to the origin planet of the Saiyans where Frieza’s ancestor, Lord Chilled, rules. The whole scenario comes off as contrived with no basis for how the time travel occurred or why exactly Bardock landed on that particular planet. The OVA attempts to build a relationship between Bardock and some child inhabitant of the planet, but this relationship involves nothing more than the child providing Bardock with food. That the child’s injury results in Bardock’s transformation into a Super Saiyan is downright ludicrous. While Goku and Vegeta required utmost training and psychological pressure to transform, Bardock achieves this with no training, talent, or potent stimulus. The weight of the Super Saiyan transformation is lost completely in this special, becoming merely a convenient tool for Bardock to overcome Lord Chilled. There are no impressive fight tactics or meaningful plot developments in the entirety of this special. Given no meaningful characterization, Bardock becomes nothing but a generic hero in a franchise where vapid overpowered characters are the norm. The entire OVA comes off as an attempt to make Bardock special for the mere fact that he’s Goku’s father in the most uninspired fashion possible while stripping away the tragedy of the original Bardock special. To make matters worse, the special heavily contradicts the Dragon Ball canon. At the end of the special, an attempt to tie to the canon is made when Lord Chilled is determined to warn his successors about Bardock the Super Saiyan. However, this idea fails both in regards to Dragon Ball’s time travel mechanics and the clues about the origin of the Super Saiyan provided in the series. Firstly, Dragon Ball’s time travel operates under parallel universes, by which travelling to the past doesn’t affect the present an individual came from but instead forms a new timeline. Any changes made to the past affects the new timeline, but the original is left unchanged. Consequently, Episode of Bardock makes no sense as the reason Frieza feared the Super Saiyans. The current timeline would be unaffected and thus the time travel could not serve as the reason for Frieza’s destroying of the Saiyan race and fear of the potential Saiyans could have. Furthermore, the term Super Saiyan wasn’t mentioned in the special at all, so it would be implausible for Chilled to spread this term to his ancestors. As Saiyans hadn’t existed at the time, there would be no way for Chilled’s descendants to recognize them, and the Saiyans wouldn’t be aware of this legend if it arose from Chilled. This goes against not only Frieza but also the Saiyans themselves holding notions about the legendary Super Saiyan. The special also makes it appear that Bardock is the actual original Super Saiyan, but this fails as it was said the Saiyan in legend was said to have become a Super Saiyan in his transformed state (as a Great Ape/ Oozaru). Episode of Bardock is possibly one of the worst official fan-fiction works in the anime medium. It is a vapid work that fails at nearly everything it does and merely breaks that which the Dragon Ball franchise had established. There’s nothing of interest here. In terms of even entertainment value and action, the original Bardock Special completely overshadows this disappointing OVA.
Reviewer’s Rating: 2
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Jan 1, 2018
Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu
(Anime)
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This review spoils the entirety of the first season of the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya and is advised only for those who have completed it.
Haruhi Suzumiya struggles to cope with the realization that she is as insignificant as anyone else. Haruhi's longing to be special prompts her to act eccentric and stray from normalcy as much as possible. These actions, however, merely isolate her from her classmates. After Kyon inquires about Haruhi's hair ritual, she gives it up as she finally received the attention she sought. This demonstrates that her eccentricities are indeed a facade, and this is made more apparent when in her ... closed space world, Haruhi poetically behaves ordinary in an extraordinary world. As Kyon becomes the one person to genuinely talk to Haruhi, she is able to break away from her need to stand out. Haruhi's eccentricies do still exist past this point, but they stem from her sense of passion and ambition to act rather than to invoke a reaction from others. In "Live Alive", in order to get over the melancholy she feels when people appreciate her for the first time, Haruhi turns towards her future prospects, planning for the next culture festival, to find her meaning amidst melancholy. Haruhi wishes that reality were extraordinary but believes that the world is in fact grounded. In truth, her dreams of the extraordinary such as aliens, time travellers, and espers exist within the SOS brigade because she willed them to, yet she is unaware of them precisely because she doesn't need these fantasies. The SOS brigade provides her with a sense of significance by asserting control over others, but this is merely a pitfall in her attempts to find satisfaction. Despite her eccentric tendencies such as her belief that love is merely a disease, Haruhi herself admits that she cannot escape her human impulses. She still has feelings for Kyon and therefore is driven to a state of distress upon seeing Kyon and Mikuru being close to each other. When Haruhi's at the breaking point of her dissatisfaction, she subconsciously creates a new world where only she and Kyon exist. This is telling of Kyon's role as Haruhi's central tie to humanity amidst her escapist desires. Kyon’s kiss prompts Haruhi to forsake this new world and subconsciously act on her desire for connection. The final scene in Melancholy part 6, where Haruhi and Kyon are finally together at the bar constrasts with the previous meetings when it was apparant Haruhi wanted to pair up with Kyon but always ended up being in a different group with his random straw picking. Considering Haruhi's powers alter reality, the early cafe scenes show that she wasn't able to accept her love for Kyon until she returned from the new world. The episode "Someday in the Rain" emphasizes that Haruhi is now able to find value in the most mundane of scenarios such as a rainy day, in contrast to her absolute dissatisfaction with normal occurrences. "Remote Island Syndrome" displays how her behaviors eventually extend past Kyon, as she shows concern for Kyon's sister and is unable to accept the possibility that someone in her brigade was responsible for the murder. It's Haruhi's human side, her desire for connection, that enables her to break from her escapism. Poetically, Haruhi does not need to be god; to be human is enough. Telling the story through Kyon's perspective is an effective means to demonstrate how Haruhi and her world are perceived in contrast to her own beliefs about herself and the reality of her world. Kyon's reactions to the supernatural are characteristically normal, but his monologues are noteworthy because of their identity. His “Haruhi is Haruhi and nothing but Haruhi” monologue is a prime example of this, as it's not notable for the conclusion he reaches but for the tangents and self-questioning he goes through. Despite Kyon’s awareness of the tropes and absurdities of the show, he’s overwhelmed by the mysterious supernatural world he's brought into. Once he can no longer deny this world, he denies his place in it, believing that he has no role in resolving Haruhi’s conflict and its repercussions on reality. This is a sensible conclusion for someone as ordianary as Kyon, but his necessity lies in his perception of Haruhi herself. Whereas Koizumi, Mikuru, and Nagato believe that Haruhi is a god, distortion in space-time, and the next step in evolution respectively, Kyon is the only one to perceive Haruhi as a person rather than some entity or force. This grants him the place as the one ordinary person in Haruhi's brigade to signify that he is the one most human to Haruhi, whereas Haruhi's absurd world provides color to the gray world of monotony he had accepted. Both Kyon and Haruhi are overwhelmed during their arcs, coming to conflict with uncertainties they can't come to terms with. Fittingly, the show effectively captures the sense of being overwhelmed and lost in the world. Through Haruhi’s pointing out of the very cliches and tropes that govern the type of show she’s part of and Kyon’s pointing out of all the absurdities that take place, the series establishes a sense of awareness that the characters possess. Haruhi internally believes that the very fantastic elements she wishes existed don’t reasonably exist, which would, under normal circumstances, suggest an awareness of reality. But throughout the show, there’s a layer of unawareness above this awareness. Both the characters and the audience know very little about the truths of the series’ world. Only the bare-bones of the factions of aliens, time travellers, and espers are known, and there’s no clear answer as to what exactly Haruhi is. Haruhi’s subconscious “awareness” of the world’s grounded nature is proven wrong by her unawareness that her fantasies are indeed the reality. She believes in her insigfinicance despite wishing to be significant, without knowing that she is the most significant individual. There’s melancholy in these ironies; the power of significance she seeks is literally within her, yet she’s unable to grasp it. Kyon is lost through the overwhelming information he comes across that challenges his notions of reality whereas Haruhi is lost through being unsure of her place in the world. Amidst these uncertainties, everything feels all over the place. When reflecting upon the show, it is easy to lose oneself in the sheer looseness of the show’s ideas and concepts: its meta-aspects, sci-fi concepts, focus on the mundane, “filler” mystery subplots, playing with cliches and tropes, theories on how the world works, and perspectives on what Haruhi is. The content of the show is thus scattered, and the jumbled broadcasting order mirrors this in order to convey the sense of everything feeling all over the place. This viewing experience aptly parallels the void Haruhi and Kyon experience when contemplating the real world. They feel out of place within it and are overwhelmed by that which is beyond their knowledge. In addition to the show's thematic focus, it utilizes its narrative and structual elements well. Despite the supernatural focus of the show, the school setting is justified as the setting because Haruhi's mundane environment is what fuels her melancholy. By contextualizing the place for supernatural and sci-fi aspects into the narrative, the show adds a more engaging spin to a school story, enabling moments of spectacle such as Nagato’s fight with Asakura. The moments of exposition are made engaging by spacing nfodumping with directing cuts, back and forth character interactions, and splitting expository moments between episodes for breathing room. Since the show thematically justifies its looseness of concepts, it is able to feature a variety of scenarios and interactions to enhance the entertainment value. The out-of-order broadcasting is an effective means of including Haruhi's character growth after the Melancholy arc while maintaining a strong climax. Furthermore, this broadcasting order fosters variety between episodes and strengthens the weight of the climax as the viewers are better aware of the importance of the climax for Haruhi's arc. There’s a certain charm to the way the show plays with the tropes and cliches of anime. It points out how ludicrous they can be, yet chooses to have fun while embracing them. Even over a decade after its release, the show still functions as a celebration of the tropes that constitute anime. Kyon’s interactions with Haruhi and Koizumi are both engaging, the former with how he ridicules Haruhi’s absurd eccentricities and the latter with how his sarcasm works well with Koizumi’s pretentiousness. Kyon’s way of presenting his monologues is often engaging, using analogies, hyperboles, and references to enhance his descriptive style. Introducing the show with his story of not believing in Santa Claus, and introducing the climax episode with “self Proclaimed— Time Traveller; self-proclaimed—Esper; self-proclaimed—Alien,” are both effective for presenting what he monologues. Furthermore, the show understands how to keep each of the tropes and scenarios it presents entertaining by nailing the character interactions in each episode, featuring the right music for whatever tone the show is going for, and effectively capturing the atmosphere of every situation. As examples, it’s able to evoke the mundane feeling of “Someday in the rain,” the stern mystery tone of “Remote Island Syndrome,” the playfulness of “The Boredom of Haruhi Suzumiya,” and the cryptic nature of Nagato’s exposition. The greatest issue with The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is the cast's characterization, aside from Haruhi and Kyon. Koizumi, Mikuru, and Nagato can almost entirely be defined by the traits common to their archetypes they represent. Since the series plays with irony in many instances, it would have been beneficial if these characters while assuming the cliche roles Haruhi sought, in reality defied the roles they play. At the very least, Nagato does show some instances of defying her role as the stoic alien. There’s an emphasis on Haruhi’s negligence towards Yuki throughout the show. From the beginning, Haruhi considered her a mere accessory for the club room rather than an actual person and never paid any attention to her at all. In this regard, Yuki fits her role as the alien, not only a detached character but the one most alien to Haruhi. Despite her programming, Nagato can’t escape her desire to be human. Although emphasized more in the second season and the movie, this season features a few of her human moments: her setting up the events of "Mysterique Sign" due to loneliness, her enjoyment during the game against the computer club, and her semantic “joke” in "Remote Island Syndrome" by denying Haruhi access to the room she was assigned to guard. Nagato could have benefitted from further characterization, but Mikuru and Koizumi have even less. Even Haruhi Suzumiya wasn't free from characterization faults. Her tendency to use Mikuru as a play-thing comes off as a forced means to incorporate fan service throughout the show, under the excuse of Haruhi’s awareness of tropes such as moe. This can challenge the viewer's suspension of disbelief as Haruhi’s seclusion from human connection doesn’t justify moral apathy towards harassing Mikuru for her selfish desire to maintain control. Haruhi's growth in accepting others could also have been emphasized further in the filler episodes. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is a wonderful work of art that effectively captures the sense of melancholy it strives for. It’s a nice take on the question of meaning, utilizing its intriguing premise to reach a beautiful conclusion. It’s a show both thematically ripe and engaging with a well done character arc, a strong dynamic between the two main characters, and an apt utilization of meta and irony to evoke the emotions it attempts to convey. It’s a show that utilizes its peculiar structure well and is unique in the way to uses Haruhi's powers to explore the question of how individuals find meaning in a world seemingly devoid of inherent meaning. Although it could have handled its cast better, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is a wonderful show that holds up to this very day.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Dec 26, 2017
Texhnolyze
(Anime)
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Recommended
This analytical review spoils the entirety of Texhnolyze, and is advised only for those who have completed the show.
Texhnolyze takes a comprehensive look into humanity’s attempts to find meaning when it seems there’s nothing left to live for. Incessantly crafting an atmosphere of dread and despair through the use of monotonous sound effects, an uncompromising dark color palette, and an emphasis on pain, Texhnolyze captures the brutalistic atmosphere perfect for its narrative. Although it doesn’t hesitate to stretch scenes of despair and focus on seemingly inconsequential chains of event, how much Texhnolyze accomplishes in its run-time is astounding through its sheer focus. At ... every step of its story, Texhnolyze places great effort on showcasing the effects of the key events on all sides: the effect of the Salvation attack on Onishi visiting Doc and confronting the salvation union, the attention to every step Ichise takes while traversing the tunnel, and the reactions from all sides to Yoshii's attempts to stir up the city are examples. Each event has a consequence for the various factions, and no event from one episode is forgotten in the next. The structure of the episodes also follow a repetitive pattern of begginning with a sense of dread and then ending with a similar dread. As an example, episode 2’s beginning highlights the pain of Ichise losing his arm, and it ends with the despair of failing to move forward. While capturing the unpleasant atmosphere of the series, this repetition of dread contributes to Texhnolyze’s theme of nothing truly changing. As an anime original, Texhnolyze delivers in terms of visual storytelling and directing. In episode 2, Ichise's imagines a version of himself climbing a set of stairs with his limbs in tact while defiantly looking at the failure of the real Ichise to move forward. Slow and bleak, the pacing and directing of this scene adds to its poignancy. Throughout the show, the characters’ expressions reveal truths they actively hide, as seen by Yoshii's expression of regret through his eyes when killing Onishi's wife and Onishi's seemingly forced expression of remorse for his wife's death. The series uses light in many cases to present myopia or blindness rather than true illumination. During Ichise’s boxing flashback in episode one, he’s portrayed in a shroud of light as he succumbs to his base desires. Nothing is visible as he charges for his punches. Similarly, in one early scene, the details of Lukuss are shown as light fades away to darkness. While light generally depicts hope, it is used in this way to parallel the revalation of the surface world. The bright-colored “heaven” of the surface is more hopeless than the darkness of the “hell” that is Lukuss. In the surface itself, Texhnolyze bases some of its scenes and architecture on the works of the American painter, Edward Hooper, who focused on portraying the loneliness and desolation of the 1920s. This stylistic choice is near perfect for portraying the surface world as lonely and sorrowful despite its seeming architectural beauty. As examples, Doc's scene of despair in the surface world directly mirrors the paining "railroad sunset," and the image of the houses on the hill parallel the painting "corn hill." Furthermore, Texhnolyze’s uses of symbolism is also noteworthy, mostly with the portrayal of the Shapes. As reinforced by Kohakura’s line about “reviving hell,” the Shapes share a resemblance to the buddhist notion of Preta. Referred to a hungry ghosts, the Preta are portrayed as beings with an extreme level of hunger and thirst but an inability to satiate them. This strongly parallels those who became Shapes to transcend the body out of greed yet lost their ability to obtain the pleasure they seek. They are ghosts hardly living with a hunger for that which they can no longer attain, as emphasized by Hal's lack of satisfaction after becoming a shape restricted his pursuit of pleasure. The dragonfly juxtaposed with a dormant Shape near the end of the series serves to contrast its freedom with the stagnancy of the Shape who abandoned the natural order in order to move on but lost agency. Rather than find freedom past the limitations of the human body, the Shape remains forever rooted to the ground. Moreover the series utilizes several visual cues to convey meaning without explaining everything. Onishi’s wife’s insanity is showcased by her talking on a phone that wasn't even plugged in. This is only noticeable because Onishi plugs the phone back in. Additionally, visual details with Ichise's arm are meaningful. In episode 2, Ichise imagines still having his severed arm in order to prevent falling when he's tripped by Hal and Shinji, to signify that he has yet to be accustomed to this change. The show also makes a point to emphasize how the difference between Ichise using his normal arm and his technolyzed one contributes to his characterization (elaborated later in this review). Through all of this, Texhnolyze maintains its monotonous style without being devoid of meaning through presentation. Its audiovisual focus cements it as not only a good story but also a good anime. Through the use of different factions, Texhnolyze lays the foundation of the core approaches humanity takes in coping with the world, exposing individuals' true nature and their bouts of hypocrisy in the process. The factions and their approaches are revealed gradually throughout the show through their interactions. Texhnolyze is a story that moves beyond long infodumps to conveniently convey all the sides. As a handful of Salvation Union members fail to assasinate the sage of Gabe, the affiliations of the sage with the Organo, the governing faction of Lukuss is established. The Organo is shown to be intricately tied to mining and exporting raffia, the main purpose of the city. From Onishi referring to Ichise as a mere dog in the second episode, the Organo utilizes individuals such as Ichise for the sake of profit (in Ichise's case, through boxing). Through weilding a sword rather than traditional guns or axes, the Organo establishes pride and order. Compared to other factions who either establish freedom among themselves or bind together for a particular ideology, the Organo fulfills the human drive to climb the ladder of society through business, in order to live a prosperous life. As they condone technolyzation for the sake of convenience and the mining of raffia for the sake of profit, they're directly opposed to the Salvation Union, who founded themselves on the principle of spirituality against such technology. The union though tied together by their ideology, isn't bounded by order to nearly the degree that the Organo is, as a fair share of their members are shown to act for their ideology without consultation from their leader. Chanting their motto, "“Soul, body, truth, salvation, vengeance," this group represents the individuals who cope with the state of the world by binding themselves to an ideology greater than themselves and choosing to act upon it beyond all else. This is exemplified when Salvation members fight to the bitter end against the shapes, despite knowing doing would lead to their deaths. For those less interested in following the qualms of society or giving themselves up for an ideal, the Racan exists as a group emphasizing free will. All members are free to do as they please, seeking spectacle and pleasure in life. They actively rebel against the status quo to maintain their worth. Outside of the city of Lukuss, the inhabitants of Gabe instead live under the force of religion, following the words of their seer and accepting the fate they're told will ensue. Rather than make their own choices, they hinge their entire lives on the prophecies that their child seer tells them. If the words of their seer is lost, so are their lives. The Class under the hill serves as the shadow leaders of the city, importing the raffia that the Organo is instructed to mine. Its leader, Kano, represents the will to assert one’s importance to the world. Key to note about the factions, primarily the Organo, Salvation Union, Racan and inhabitants of Gabe, is that they encompass the central values individuals may seek to embrace: order and climbing the ladder for prosperity, spirituality, freedom and rebellion, and religion respectively. However, the show also makes a point to showcase the hypocrisy and opposition that may occur in such groups. None of the groups are monolithic. Each one consists of members who at some point challenge the values of the group or a particular decision that takes place. For example, ,after Onishi's diplomatic approach failed against Yoshii's attempt to stir up the city, the minor character Mizuno used this opportunity to compromise the Raffia dig site. Mizuno's plot displays the opposition that would naturally arise in a group of individuals with different moral standings and opinions. Instead of making the Mizuno subplot plot-relevant, it is uncovered by another group of Organo members who operated under the belief that Onishi was framed. The show could have easily ignored how other members would approach the turn of events in order to incorporate the Mizuno sub-plot into the story, but it rightfully chooses to flesh out the different perspectives and oppositions that would take place in the organization. Although the focus on such an irrelevant plot point may disappoint the viewer, it adds to the realism of the inner working and motives of Organo members. Some Organo members such as Toyama show little loyalty to the group itself and are willing to cut their ties when opportunity sees fit. Kohakura himself abandons allegiance to the Organo as a result of Kano's alluring ideology to further the evolution of Lukuss' people. Similarly, the allegiance of members of the Salvation Union is also varied. In addition to those who carry through with their ideology without Kimata's orders, there are those who, when granted an alternative under Kano's Shapes, point out their leader's hypocrisy with technolyzation in order to justify leaving the group. This is in reality just hypocritical justification, since turning themselves to Shapes also opposes their ideology of remaining pure against technology. As expected, the Racan wouldn't be particularly unified due to embracing free will above all else. The leader Shinji's main ally Hal chooses to leave the Racan in order to grow stronger. The two later confront each other in order to maintain their respective freedoms. Outside of the hill, some members of Gabe question the validity of hinging everything upon a seer whose words control their fate. They cannot accept Gabe's conviction in simply accepting the deaths they were fated to undergo and thus choose to abandon their group. The class itself involves opposition in that Kano's ideals aren't supported by the mothers who birthed him. The series makes a point to showcase that no group is truly mindless, that there will always be those who question a group's values or decisions. This is commendable for creating factions that are truly sensible instead of ones merely thrown in for the messages they are meant to convey. As a cyberpunk anime, Texhnolyze delivers on its sci-fi concepts. Firstly, the importance of raffia is asserted on a regular basis, suggesting that the city exists for the sole purpose of extracting it. The characters have undergone a century of strife within Lukuss, and raffia, which is able to prevent the bodily response to reject foreign entities, enables the transfer of body parts throughout individuals and the incorporation of technolyzed limbs so that individuals may continue to evolve and survive. Yoshii remarks when he first enters the city that its inhabitants are losing regenerative capacity, which emphasizes the importance of raffia in this state of decline. As the ability to evolve further is key, the Class and Surface World both begin emphasizing Lukuss' role for the purpose of raffia. Technolization, one of the central concepts of the series, is quite conflicting among the characters. Kimata, the leader of the Salvation Union, mentions the rotting effects of technolyzation for both the body and the mind, using his personal experiences with Technolyzation as justification for the harm it causes. Onishi fully accepts his technolyzed legs as not just the substitute of his legs but as his actual legs. It can be seen that technolyzation presents oneself with a higher level of awareness, supported by Onishi's ability to hear the voice of the city and Ichise's ability to detect assassins through his technolyzation (in episode 14 when Doc and Ichise approaches the Class). Toyama chose to be technolyzed solely to assert himself as different from his father. From Onishi's remarks that dogs such as Ichise aren't granted the privilege of technolyzation, it is reserved only for the fortunate, due to how valuable it is as a resource. Ichise's character arc demonstrates the struggles of adapting to technolyzation. Ichise undergoes a gradual process of wholeheartedly accepting his technolyzation process, which isn’t profound for a cyberpunk series but is necessary nonetheless. In terms of mechanics, technolyzation is tied to the Obelisk at the center of Lukuss. The series also establishes a factory that is necessary to provide the power for technolyzation. The shutting down of this tower highlights just how desparate several members of Lukuss are without their technolyzation. Texhnolyze in this way pays full attention to the details necessary to flesh out its concepts of raffia and technolization. The introduction of Shapes enables a greater focus on transhumanism, although the series does not focus much on exploring transhumanist ideas. Kano utilizes the Shapes in order to instill his values onto others and force the views he believes are the right course for humanity. For the members of Lukuss who have spent their lives simply living and pursuing the basest of pleasures, the Shapes provide a new step forward in their evolution, a potential means of surviving as society nears its end. It appears that reproduction has ceased, hinted by the absence of children within the story and characters such as Doc who are aware of their infertility without needing to test for it. As such, embracing the Shapes is only natural when no alternative option for survival remains. Some individuals such as Toyama embrace the Shapes as they will pursue whatever will propel them forward, while individuals such as Hal follow the Shapes to satisfy their selfish desires. Hal seeks power and greater freedom than Shinji through becoming a shape, but Shinji himself remarks that Hal has lost his ability for freedom by choosing this path. After becoming a shape, Hal isn't truly living. He's a mere phantom, as the allusion to hungry ghosts would support. Even Hal’s statement that he lost his dick is notable since base pleasures is all members of Lukuss had to live their lives. Given that the Salvation members who stuck to their ideals to the bitter end are portrayed with far more humanity than those who sought after Shapes, the series posits the loss of humanity this danger of trans-humanism results in. Kano and Kohakura remark that the Shapes will continue to live past humanity, but given the repeated twitching the Shapes undergo and Kohakura's infection from gangrene, this appears to be a false hope. The Shapes will likely deteriorate with time, failing to obtain the evolution they desire. The tragedy of the Shapes is effectively depicted by the aforementioned dragonfly juxtaposition. As such, the series suggests the consequences of hinging everything upon trans-humanism. The pursuit of this trans-humanism was understandable given the circumstances. However, although rejecting it would lead to the same fate of death, it would at the very least grant the individual the freedom to embrace his/her values. Texhnolyze’s characters can be quite controversial, as they aren’t prone to as much emotion as many viewers would like. To focus on providing atatchment to the characters isn’t Texhnolyze’s aim, so this is no issue. The show depicts characters who behave how they would under their circumstances and doesn’t choose a specific side amidst the several character stories present. Claiming that the characters are excessively stoic is inaccurate as they show emotion whenever appropriate. Doc demonstrates her lust for power and pleasure when she has sex with Ichise and cuts off the limb of a rat, while she demonstrates despair when rejected by the Class and unneeded by the surface. Ichise is portrayed mostly through primal madness but has instances of calm understanding, when comforting Doc during her rejection by the Class, and showcases respect when coming to terms with his father in the surface world. Onishi carries out a mask of stoicism in order to fit his role as the leader, but this stoicism is questioned when his wife dies. He may try to undergo the formalities without showcasing emotion, but is unable to escape a breakdown when Toyama calls him and abruptly ends the call. Yoshii showcases varied emotion throughout the series, Kano remains bombastic, and Shinji although lifeless in certain cases, has his moments of wildness and liveliness near the end. Even a character such as Ran uses her mask in order to hide her distress in situations. Although Texhnolyze as a tonal piece doesn't have characters that are brimming with emotion, the emotions and moods they take don't come off as forced throughout the series. Some may claim that Texhnolyze characters are flawed by being ideologies and nothing more, but nearly all the important characters are established well beyond their ideologies. Rand and Kano are the closest to being merely the roles they serve, but even they have the sufficient characterization needed.. Ran possesses child-like pleasure as shown when she's excited by Ichise's revenge against Organo members, and she undergoes the distress that is sensible due to her ability to see the future. Although this doesn't make her a particularly good character, her character is understandable for the child she is without agency. Kano, defined by his god-complex, is characterized well in order to reinforce said god-complex. His view in solipcism, that reality exists in his own mind, is in tandem with his god-complex, and his desire to have metaphorical intercourse with the series parallels the incestuous conditions which lead to his birth. From these character traits, it is reasonable to see that he believes his will is absolute, and given the state of the world at the time, his ambition through the Shapes is sensible. The rest of the central characters are deserving of their own inspection. Ichise's journey is the driving force of the series. Beginning as a character with next to no values other than preserving the cells of his dead mother, he sought survival and survival alone. His base nature and desire to live beyond all else brought forth interest from Doc and later Onishi. Of course initially rejecting the Technolyzation he was given, he undergoes a slow process of coming to terms with his technolyzed limbs. While traversing the tunnel he was thrown into by Organo members, he followed flowers that Ran left behind, which after noticing they came from Ran, he began to associate with her. As such, he grew value in Ran even though she herself didn't perceive him to the same degree. In the climax of episode 6, Ichise shows an inability to retaliate against the arm he had lost with his Technolyzed limb, thus forcing him to achieve vengeance through his ordinary arm. This emphasizes his embracing of himself rather than the arm he was given. Ichise later forms respect for Onishi, likely through the Organo leader’s assistance to him throughout the brawls with the other factions. As such, when Onishi is threatened in episode 10 by Yoshii, Ichise deals a decisive blow to Yoshii with his technolyzed limb, contrasting his inability to use it in episode 6. Through now being accustomed to his limbs, Ichise begins to pursue value and purpose, choosing to join the Organo to meet that intent. He's proven to be unable to control himself when he comes across the ones who framed his parents. Toyama later remarks that he has hardly changed, merely seeking vengeance. Ichise clings to Ran for desperation, knowing that she can tell him his future, which he wishes for due to his desire for purpose. He's haunted by the future he's told by Ran, that he'll destroy everyone around him and become alone, as he's now fond of the connections he's made with individuals such as Onishi and Doc. As he accompanies Doc to approach the Class, he questions whether he truly is destined to abandon those around him and become isolated. As a result, he shows genuine affection towards Doc and comforts her when she believes she has lost everything. As Ichise continues to carry out the orders of the Organo, he questions why exactly he's merely following orders. In an attempt to find purpose within the Organo so that he doesn't isolate himself, he ends up straying from the very self-preservation that defined him. In contrast to his original disposition of living solely for himself, he's no longer even thinking for himself, choosing to follow orders due to his perceived obligation to the Organo. His strife is partially mitigated when the hospitalized Organo Chief, Gotoh, assures him that he must not pay heed to fate and must rather choose to live his own life. When Doc reveals that his Technolyzed unit doesn't actually have his mother's cells, he enters a state of madness but is able to restrain himself from killing Doc. The Ichise of the past clearly wouldn't have restrained himself, so this demonstrates the effect of the ties he's developed with others. After reaching the surface, he quickly understands that those individuals aren't truly living, and adopts an expression of grim understanding. He's prepared to kill the elderly couple who carries out their lives without actually living, in order to ease their pain. Similarly, Ichise is willing to end Toyama's life in order to free the latter from the burden of living as a shape who isn't truly alive. The clash between the two serves as a distinction to the foil that was setup between them. Both had begun as individuals who scorned their fathers and chose to survive against all odds, but Ichise was able to forge connections outside of living for himself. Poignantly, right after the clash, Ichise is able to come to terms with his father's death and apologize for accusing his father of betraying him, thus directly opposing Toyama's inability to let his hatred of his father go. With the death of Onishi at the end, Ichise pleas for his technolyzed limbs to work, claiming that they are his true arm and leg. He has now come to full terms with his circumstances. Having defended himself with his accepted limbs, he reflects upon Ran's role in his life, and how it had a positive influence on him. Though he realizes that he hasn't actually changed, he is able to take satisfaction with the life he has lived. As such, though his fate is tragic, he was able to live his life without regret. Toyama's introduced with a repugnance towards those who "drag down others who try to rise." To rise and continue living is the central ideal Toyama pursues, and as such nothing frustrates him more than those who live with envy rather than acting for themselves. Due to his father's incestuous feelings for Toyama, he grows a resentment towards him, choosing to follow Kohakura under the Organo as a substitute. He claims that he'll kill his father, but is never able to do so, using the excuse that he'll restrain particularly because it's his father. His relationship with Kohakura is no different, as Kohakura sexually harasses Toyama by touching his butt, yet Toyama does nothing against this. His scenario and abuse doesn't seem to truly change, and he's unable to come to terms with these burdens. For the sake of rebellion against his father alone does he seek technolization, and he's willing to abandon the Organo when he sees fit in order to continue surviving. Toyama seeing those clouds in the surface may be a representation of his "rise," which he emphasized as his main value. But upon wishing to kill Ichise, he perishes, in essence falling immediately after his rise. Toyama spiritually dies when he becomes a shape, the burdens he never comes to term with explaining why he is unable to survive his rise to the surface. By contrast, Ichise is able to come to terms with his father conflict and make the descent back to the city he seeks. Yoshii's ideals and values are strongly integral to what the series attempts to convey. Having understood the monotonous lives of those in the surface who aren't truly living, Yoshii strives to stir up Lukuss so that they don't embrace the same complacency. He hopes to unleash their true power so that they can live to their potential. Living in the moment and choosing to embrace spectacle, he doesn't want Ran to tell him his future. He seeks the freedom to be unbounded by such tools as fate. He kills a prostitute and her pimp, realizing that they would be unable to carry out with their goals of escaping the city. Rather than allow them to suffer the burden of failing to reach their goals, he chooses to eliminate them as they are. Yoshii is the character with one of the strongest showing of emotion in the series. He shows vulnerability when his bag is stolen by Racan members, hesitation when killing Onishi's wife, and genuine curiosity in the state of Lukuss. He takes notes for his own sake rather than for the indifferent surface world. He lives with his ideology instead of simply blurting it out. His desire to create conflict among the classes of Lukuss to bait the Class is actively demonstrated rather than explained. At the end of the day, he dies with satisfaction knowing that he lived how he wished to live. He sought his desires for spectacle and pleasure while serving as an influence for Kano's unleashing of his plans and Kohakura's decision to abandon the Organo. Doc's character arc and tragic ending is quite relevant for the nihilistic side of Texhnolyze's conclusion. She's a character who is defined initially by pursuing her pleasure, through having sex with Ichise and chopping off the limbs of a rat. She's drawn to Ichise because of his eyes which resemble the first ancestors of Lukuss and because of Ichise's drive to survive. Through helping Ichise become the most evolved individual in the city, she is able to satiate her desire for purpose and accomplishment. She uses Ichise as a means of reaching her own satisfaction, and when Ichise leaves Onishi's cell for him in episode 7, she resorts to a rat to fill her void for company and meeting of her pleasures. After completing Ichise as her masterpiece, she brings Ichise along with her to move to the Class. Her jealousy of Ichise's respect towards Onishi hints at her growing affection towards Ichise and desire to be acknowledged by him. When Ichise refuses to go with her, she replies that everything including Ichise and the way the city evolves is in her control, singifying that she prides herself on her significance. This sense of significance is shattered when the class rejects her research and achievements with Ichise. She's driven to a state of despair, but is partially consoled by Ichise insinuating that she still has him. Although she’s consulted by Ichise’s reassurance, she realizes that Ichise won't be with her for long. Once the Shapes emerge, in contrast to Ichise's insistence in being obliged to help Onishi, Doc suggests that Ichise should give up on him, uncertain whether Onishi may even be alive. Her sense of selfishness is still intact, but not entirely as she asks Ichise to hug him, to reinforce that such acts are what her technolyzation was for. When she and Ichise leave to the surface, she implants her own cells into Ichise, in order to compensate for lying to Ichise, while also serving as her only means of symbolic reproduction given her infertility. Once the surface has no need for Doc, she has nothing left to live her life, choosing to end herself on the surface rather than returning. Her conclusion serves as the fate that some may come to in such a world, where there's nothing to value and nothing to live for. Although her intentions were selfish, she genuinely cared for Ichise by the end, and one can assume that she placed the flower in Ichise's unit, which was what he ultimately needed during the end of his life. Onishi is a character constrained by a mask of obligation. He tries at all costs to fulfill the role he's expected to play. His bravado is present in the beginning when he looks down upon Ichise as a worthless dog who lost his limb. He pursues diplomacy and finds fault in those who pursue violence recklessly. He's the voice of reason when the rest of the factions wish to fight each other due to Yoshii's methods of stirring them up. Seeks diplomatic ties with the Salvation Union after being attacked by rogue Union members, he is hesitant to use force during the conflicts beyond necessity, as shown by his response to the fire. He doesn't seem to show much actual affection to his wife, as he has sexual affairs with his secretary. However, with the death of his wife, it appears that he forces himself to care for her, undergoing the formalities for the sake of it. Clearly burdened by the scenario, he cannot contain his composure after Toyama calls to inform him about Yoshii and then immediately ends the call. He sought to keep his composure, but such a disturbance prevents this. It is likely that he feels a sense of guilt after the death of his wife, as he no longer makes sexual advances with his secretary. Onishi showcases responsbility by voluntarily offering his ordinary legs, in contrast to Ichise who lost them through recklessness. Although put into question by the Mizuno subplot, he turns his attention to saving Gotoh from Yoshii's assassination attempts of a Class member. Despite the accusations laid on him, Gotoh continues to maintain trust in Onishi due to his genuine sense of duty from visiting the former at the hospital regularly. It is clear that Onishi acts selflessly for the benefit of the city and its inhabitants by ruling responsibly and seeking to minimize tension with other factions. When necessary, he's willing to throw out wounded members in his car to enable his own survival, but he does this by necessity while apologizing for doing so. Onishi seems to realize Ichise's sense of obligation towards him, and remarks that Ichise may leave to the surface world, so that Ichise would no longer be bound to him. Amidst the chaos of the city during its last hours, Onishi maintains his sanity by symbolically cutting his tie with the city, rather than living only to embrace the insanity around him. Shinji serves as a direct foil to Onishi, striving for freedom and rebellion compared to Onishi's values of obligation and order. But from his dialogue with Yoshii in episode 5, the latter remarks that Shinji isn't free because he's bounded by his ties to the city. Shinji is considerably lively during the beginning, nonchalantly telling Ichise in episode 2 that he should have joined the Racan to avoid losing his limbs and motivated by the spectacle of Yoshii's fire. However, after opposing Yoshii's assassination attempt of the class member, feeling betrayed to an extent, he undergoes a slump in which he loses his rebellious passion. This may have been bolstered by being unable to conclude his fight with Onishi is episode 8, as Onishi is a key hindrance to Shinji’s core desires. He’s drawn to Onishi's secretary Micheko, likely due to Micheko's remark that Shinji wishes to be like Onishi. Clearly Shinji wishes to reject this statement, but there is truth to it. Indifferent to Hal leaving, his melancholic attitude in contrast to his previous liveliness ensues. Just as Yoshii remarked Shinji wouldn't be free because he is bound to the city, his ties to the Racan prevent him from living the life of rebellion he longs for. When he ends Hal's life and leaves Yoko behind, he is finally able to embrace his true nature of spectacle and rebellion. He explicitly states in a confrontation with Onishi that he'll kill people while Onishi helps them, directly remarking that he wishes to take the opposite path of Onishi. This serves as a rebellious act directly targeted at Micheko's claim that he wants to be just like Onishi. His defiant nature has truly been satisfied, and he has finally overcome his jealousy of Onishi. He remarks how pitiful the Class that he longed to join really is, and he lives the last moments of his life killing the raffia statues in the Class' headquarters. Killed during that moment, he died while obtaining the very spectacle he longed for, after he was able to escape the restrictions of his den and by extension his city. Before delving into how Texhnolyze utilizes all this characterization for its conclusion, there are some issues with the show worth mentioning. Firstly, plot armor is present in many instances. Ichise or Onishi dodge a barrage of bullets unscathed, and Ichise’s ability to defeat an entire crowd with his technolyzed limb requires suspension of disbelief. One may also question Ichise's relationship with Ran to some extent. The show places great emphasis on Ichise's value for Ran, but this value in series relates almost solely to Ichise noticing that Ran provided the flowers that helped him in the tunnel and thus could have benefited from a stronger relationship. Related to this, in episode 11, Ichise is led to believe Ran knows something about him, but it isn't clear what made him reach such a conclusion. He has no reason to suspect Ran's ability to tell the future, so this interaction is a reasonable criticism. Ran's connection to Kano at the end was far too abrupt and required more elaboration. How exactly Ran relates to the Obelisk is also left unexplained, and her role as the voice speaking to Onishi isn’t an integral twist. The series also includes moments of symbolism that betray realism during certain points. The blood that arises when Onishi destroys the Obelisk with his sword makes no literal sense, and the Surface World treads the line between reality and the illusory for a symbolic purpose that could be again questionable from a literal standpoint. Konaka's Serial Experiments Lain has non-literal aspects like this, but since that show is metaphorical in its entirety, there's no disparity compared to the more grounded Texhnolze. Ultimately, these aren’t major faults with the series. Although a fair share of these problems arose during the end, the ending is overall the strongest point of the series. When Ichise, Doc, and Sakimura reach the surface world, the viewer's expectations are shattered by the true nature of this seeming heaven. In contrast to the city of Lukuss whose people were at the very least living, the inhabitants of the surface are nothing but ghosts, simply reflecting upon their past lives without actually living. Atmospherically, this world is interesting from instances such as a seemingly normal flower being revealed to have withered away in reality. When Sakimura informed his supervisor about his killing of Yoshii, he is driven to despair but his supervisor just assures him that he probably did a good job with the task. From this, we can surmise that the theonormals posses no value of morality, simply paying heed to whether a task was done as it should be. There's a strong emphasis on formality for the sake of formality, and the inhabitants are completely indifferent to Doc's message that Kano's Shapes would attack. They've given up on life. Nothing truly matters, and they import raffia by habit alone. The radios continue to repeat the same pointless lines, to emphasize the sheer meaninglessness of the surface and everything they do. Doc is driven to despair by this meaninglessness and her inability to attain the purpose and acknowledgement she wishes for. An old man assures Ichise of the merits of not having a last name, as he's bounded to one fewer thing. Ichise remarks that the old man should visit Lukuss, for the inhabitants are at the very least living there. Essentially, the twist of the surface world lays into question what it truly means to live. There are those who simply go about their lives with complacency and there are those who although they suffer, at least have something to live for. Although the approach of the theonormals to simply give up on life isn't necessarily wrong, it is clear that individuals such as Ichise would be unsatisfied with that alone. As an individual seeking meaning, he descends back to Lukuss, to meet the fate he's bound to meet. At the very least, Ichise is satisfied with his life's conclusion, for he is able to reflect upon the life he lived and the relationships he forged. The flower grants him hope despite his tragic end. He may not have actually changed, but he at the very least lived a life, found people to value and memories to cherish. More important to Texhnolyze is how the elements of the ending fully wrap up all the perspectives present within the series. Texhnolyze provides a vast array of potential approaches to life. Ichise strives for self-preservation and to find meaning, while Kano strives to maintain his values to others and assert his own meaning by awaking everyone's egoism. Toyama desires to rise beyond all else, Shinji attempts to live with satisfaction by seeking rebellion and Doc externalizes her goal through furthering Ichise's evolution and striving to be needed by others. The Salvation Union is willing to die for their cause, maintaining their value of the natural body. Members of Gabe cling to fate rather than acting on their own, Yoshii strives to unleash the potential of the people and live to hedonism, and the surface decides to give up on life. It is questioned whether anything really changes, for the cycle of death and rebirth of cities is stated to be continuous, and Ichise's own journey ends with a punch just like how it began (punching Kano at the end compared to punching the prostitute during the begginning). The different conclusions the series presents are quite varied. It presents characters who live their lives with satisfaction: Ichise as he reflects upon the life he's lived, Shinji as he lives the way he always wished to live, Yoshii as he lived and fueled the spark for others to live, and the Salvation Union as they pursue their ideals without hesitation. It also presents the tragedy of those who have given up, either choosing to end their lives such as Doc or Ran, or choosing to meet their fates such as the members of the surface. Onishi, though he met a tragic end, at the very least kept his sanity. Characters such as Hal and Toyama died in folly, but served to enable Shinji and Ichise respectively to live their true lives. Texhnolyze weaves its various perspectives and approaches to meaning almost seamlessly, utilizing its 22 episodes to build-up the components that each character and faction would require. And although the folly of approaches such as Hal's is highlighted, the show doesn't present a particular approach as the correct one. Ultimately, Texhnolyze isn't a propaganda piece with a message it's trying to convey. It shows the sides of the conflict, what the world and one's way of living within it means for each of them, but there's no correct answer. It is as if through these perspectives, the show encapsulate the core of humanity for what it is. Texhnolyze is a study of the way people fundamentally approach life and the conclusions they are lead to. The ending may lead the viewer in a sort of void ,from the sheer overwhelming nature of a world with no overarching meaning or truth. "Walking Through the Empty Age," the music that plays during the last few minutes of the final episode, perfectly captures the melancholic yet contemplative mood that this ending entails. Final Verdict: When all is said and done, Texhnolyze is a show that's thematically satisfying. It's a series that is focused from beginning to end, one that is indifferent to whether the viewer is invested and instead simply tells its story. It's an anime that takes care in executing the characters it tries to convey, utilizes visuals to contribute to the story and presents one of the most thematically rich stories the medium has to offer. It may have a few minor issues in its execution, but it effectively explores the many sides to the concepts and perspectives it focuses on. As such, it is possibly one of the greatest works the anime medium has to offer.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Nov 26, 2017 Recommended
This review spoils the entirety of Kaiba and is advised only for those who have completed the series.
Of Masaaki Yuasa's main three anime series (Kaiba, The Tatami Galaxy, and Ping Pong the Animation), Kaiba is arguably the most ambitious but also the most flawed. It weaves an overarching story while gradually building upon the distinct world it's set within, but along the process struggles with particular plot points being rushed, questionable actions, particular occurrences insufficiently explained, and particular contrivances. The ways in which Kaiba is able to expand upon its world while maintaining a level of imagination often uncommon in the anime medium is its ... strongest point. Paralleling its cartoony art-style, many of Kaiba's sci-fi concepts are almost childishly simple, but this is in fact a commendable approach. It doesn't try to thoroughly explain the mechanisms of its world through info-dumps and rather chooses to show the viewer how the devices of the world work. To maintain the wonder of the concepts themselves, the series doesn't mechanics that don't need to be explained. From individuals removing chips and transferring someone into another body to scanning one's memory with a device and jumping into his/her mind to teleporting from room to room by stepping on a floating sphere, we get to witness all of its sci-fi concepts in action. We're shown this all naturally through the actions of Kaiba's characters without taking time to spoon-feed the reader all the information, thus enhancing the experience. From the moment the main character begins exploring the world, the series establishes how the world shapes the mentality of its inhabitants. We see the despair of a family trapped within a cube, unable to experience the world with a real body. We notice attempts to limit the number of people who can inhabit an area with a body for pragmatism. We see a woman striving to escape her current life after winning a new body. Small touches of visual storytelling such as a man's failure at pretending to be a child's brother in order to obtain a body and his cover being blown when thanking the wrong child are well appreciated and serve as natural means of showcasing the deceit that can be present in such a world. Kaiba is the type of series to not hold back on harsh realities. Rather than present a childlike idealistic notion of a world in which memories are fickle and bodies can be manipulated, it depicts the class struggle that would naturally exist in such a world. The rich prosper and live on with near endless potential in what they may do with the manipulation of bodies and memory, while the poor struggle to even thrive in a body. An electrolytic cloud was built to separate the poor from the rich, and those in poverty have resolved to break through the cloud, even when the inevitable result is failing and losing their memories. We can further see the tendency of impulse, deceit, and denial as we embark through Kaiba's world alonside the titular protagonist. The woman whom Popo sends Kaiba on the ship in episode 1 uses Kaiba's body for her own sexual impulses, loading her memory onto Kaiba's body for pleasure. The depiction of this sexual portrayal is gruesome, and some may be deem this event far too excessive for the series, but it demonstrates the lengths that some individuals may take in such a world and thus is a worthwhile inclusion. Butter's using of various women for his smuggling of memories serves to portray more of the deception inherent in such a world. Vanilla maintains order as a sheriff, but we see he's driven more strongly by his lust for a beatiful woman. Through him we further see the rules enforced within such a world, such as copies of individuals having no right to harm their originals and individuals being free to harm copies. Certainly questionable rules, and pragmatism is raised yet again when the copy within Kaiba's body is spared only so that the body could be sold to the collector Cloak. Episode 3 further supports the harsh reality of such a world, but it also showcases that there's more to the conflict of characters within this world than mere selfishness. Chroniko's memories being disposed of when selling her body poses the risks and uncertainties that can arise in such a world of deception, but it doesn't depict her aunt Negi as wholly evil. Negi attempts to convince herself that she's justified in selling Chroniko, providing the excuse that she has provided enough for her and that Chroniko isn't her true daughter. But as she reflects upon what she went through to provide Chroniko her boots and takes joy in remembering playing piano with her, she cannot mask her genuine love for Chroniko, consequently grieving over the decision she had made. Although the characters of Kaiba may be driven through selfish ambitions, they are after all still people, and Negi's conflicts represents what playing with the memory of others can entail. Episode 5 serves to showcase the role of consumerism in such a world. Individuals are more focused on what they can attain for accessories rather than what is truly necessary. Through the story of the robot Patch, we see his ambition in righting the wrongs of Alibiba's consumerism desires. Path's inventions were responsible for such excessive consumerism, but he built those inventions out of necessity rather than personal satisfaction. As such, he resolved to sabotage his creations in rebellion. Unfortunately his limited battery prevents him from succeeding in each attempt, and he loses all memory before recharging. As a result, all his attempts to combat the toxic consumerist tendencies of the masses is in vein. And thus we see the struggle of a character seeking to correct the world when in reality he's only admired for the problem he creates. Through its episodic format in the first half, the series fleshed out the world through these aforementioned elements but it is also respect-worthy for how it built up its overarching story throughout its episodic format. Episode 1 already showcased Popo's desire to kill Kaiba in front of the skonk, and Hal's role in delivering Hyohyo onto the ship, both central to future reveals. The announcement of Neiro blowing up the memory tanks in episode 2 established the introduction of the Issoudan and suspense over what the relationship between Kaiba and Neiro could be. The end of episode 5 revealed the king of memories warp, leading the viewer to question the significance of Kaiba being given the name warp. Episode 6 established the memory-eating kaiba plant and Kaiba's interactions with Neiro. And episode 7 wrapped up Kaiba's journey with Vanilla, closing the episodic half of the series. Although the focuses shifted throughout the episodic portions, the series maintained a sense of continuity. For example, Kaiba and Vanilla being chased after in episode 7 was directly due to their involvement with Neiro. With sufficient setup from these episodes, the series focused on its more ambitious central story. The Issoudan's movement to oppose all manipulation of memories was established more thoroughly, Kaiba and Neiro's past together was revealed, and motivations were provided for all of Kaiba's characters. This focused story of Kaiba was surely ambitious, but it also resulted in the majority of the issues with the show's execution. Firstly, Kichi receiving Kaiba's memories after Vanilla's memory transfer was contrived, as the series didn't provide a good enough reason why that location was chosen. Furthermore, although Popo's motivations and hypocrisy in disobeying the rules of Issoudan were understandable, several of his decisions were questionable: from not disposing of Kaiba when he and Neiro fell from the castle to his attempts at getting Kaiba and Neiro to go against each other, rather than ridding Kaiba himself. Popo's ideals of instrumentality (of unifying everyone into a single existence) before being betrayed seemed to come out of nowhere without enough a sufficient basis. Even worse was the barrage of betrayals that occurred in episode 11, which also raised the question of how Mantle and the fake warp survived up to that point, as that wasn't explained well enough. Kichi's love for Hyohyo and Sate's desire to follow Popo faithfully until the latter's instrumentality plan needed to be contextualized better. Fortunately, the ending at the very least handled the relationship between Kaiba and Neiro well, suggesting the importance of connection beyond class divide. Their interactions in both the light-hearted and serious moments were well done, and Neiro was integral in Kaiba's growth from a tyrant focused solely on executing others. Neiro's motivating of Kaiba and her influence as his driving force were necessary for Kaiba's ability to resolve the conflict with the kaiba plant and establish a conclusion in which the connections between individuals was stronger. Despite this, the presence of the kaiba plant at the end seemed far too rushed, and the appearance of another warp at the end wasn't explained properly. The role of the revolving fans also weren't as prominent as they could have been, merely thrown in at the end and taken care of immediately. Kaiba also had one partciualar lacking character arc. Primarily, Vanilla lacked enough characterization for his sacrifice to have weight as he was portrayed almost solely through physical attraction to Chroniko. Thankfully, such physical impulse is consistent with Kaiba's theme pertaining to the value of the body, but Vanilla being portrayed almost primarily by this hindered the investment that his sacrifice required. Perhaps if his character traits such as his desire to bring back his mother were established earlier on and further traits were added to present him as a more fleshed out character, his fate would have had more impact. From this we can see a handful of issues with Kaiba's execution. Nonetheless, its ambition mostly made up for it. How it presented its world visually was impressive, and although it had issues with its story, it performed a commendable job given how ambitious it was for the run-time. It would also be an injustice to not mention how strong the series was audio-visually. Kaiba's art was vibrant and distinct compared to most anime, and it featured a strong soundtrack for both the more light-hearted and the more melancholic moments. The character designs were simple yet still expressive, varied, and effective. The series even made use of shortcomings in its art/animation as the lower budget episode 5 integrated the drop in art quality into its story of consumerism and the desire for the artificial. Kaiba definitely uses its audiovisuals for full capacity and probably couldn't work as well in any other storytelling medium. Final Verdict: (Personal Rating—Fairly Good) It's no surprise Kaiba is one of the quintessential artsy anime in the medium. It's highly experimental and ambitious in its approach, and although it does falter in the execution of its story, what it accomplishes is more than enough for it to be a worthwhile series.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Nov 12, 2017
Yojouhan Shinwa Taikei
(Anime)
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Recommended Spoiler
This analytical review of The Tatami Galaxy spoils the entirety of the series and is thus advised for those who have completed the series.
Notes: -The protagonist shall be referred to as Watashi. -The Tatami Galaxy shall be abbreviated as TTG. Episode summaries: Episode numbers will be referenced frequently in this review, so for the sake of easy reference, the episodes will be described briefly ... Episode 1: Parallel world setup, romance setup, Mochiguman setup, suspense of why Ozu was chased by a mob at the end of the episode. Episode 2: Watashi's movies; sabotaging Jogasaki; Akashi asking that Watashi make his dream movie about true love between those tied by fate, unbounded by even gender come true. Episode 3: Watashi training for the birdman, how it contributed to his downfall, Icarus allusion, Higuchi winning with Watashi's bike. Episode 4: Prank episode between Jogasaki and Higuchi, money that Watashi obtained to buy the tortoise toothbrush placed by the final Watashi from the tatami room. Episode 5: Watashi's pitfall in seeking health food and it actually making him more unhealthy, tie to Ozu stealing the blimp, final Watashi appearing in front of current Watashi at the end. Episode 6-8: Choosing between three women arc. Episode 9: Ozu's romantic desires revealed, Watashi's slump in pursuing absolute pleasure. Episode 10: Tatami Room; parallel worlds reveal. Episode 11: final message and conclusion. Refresher terms: Mochiguman: Akashi's plush toy constantly dangling as an opportunity for Watashi. Castella: The cake Watashi is seen eating on his own various times. The beauty of a great, simple story lies in the technicalities: symbolism, subtleties, narrative ties and novel storytelling methods. As a great story is one that requires effort to craft, paying heed to all the little details is the push a simple story needs to match a well-done story with more complexity. The Tatami Galaxy (TTG) is a great example of a simple story done quite well, with symbolism to pick apart, narratives ties to sort through, and well handling of its ideas. TTG's story is built upon contrivances, namely a time loop format, every episode a discrete loop serving for the sake of the final message. For some, these contrivances could be accused of either being inappropriate or lazy for such a simple story. However, to dismiss the series for its approach would be erroneously dogmatic when investigating the story's execution. We must instead examine how well it lived up to the type of story it tried to be. For Tatami Galaxy's premise to reach its potential, I propose that it would need to do the following: 1. Showcase the various facets through which the rose-colored campus life can be sought and the pitfalls of these approaches. 2. Provide a concluding message regarding the pursuit of the rose-colored campus life. 3. Reveal more about the characters by examining them through different scenarios, sides, angles. 4. Display how the various scenarios are related together, since the parallel universes are different sides of the same reality. 5. Remain engaging, fresh, and varied despite the repetitive nature 6. Establish foreshadowing and suspense to reveal the mechanics of the "resets" and its final message. After this analysis, we shall conclude how well TTG fits into these criteria. Firstly, the presentation is done well: the character designs are varied and expressive, Watashi's lightning fast monologues help give the show identity, and the visuals are pleasing. Most importantly, it effectively utilizes symbolism and recurring elements. The changing and varied colors help signify how each of the different worlds has its own color, though none are rose-colored. The repetition of the fortune-teller gag provides the viewer with something to anticipate; one will always be wondering when and how the fortune-teller is brought up. The clock symbolism is an effective motif to wrap up an episode and to maintain interest for the next one. Seeing the various ways Ozu is portrayed or introduced, and the visual representation he's given (being portrayed as a devil to mirror Watashi's perception of him) is a nice touch for engagement. The Mochiguman serves as consistent build-up to the climax. Even something minor such as the song Higuchi sings in episode 5 leads to the overall message of the story, through the line "Search for the circle, to learn how to not become a circle." The castella is meant to be shared, yet Watashi always eats it, portraying his isolation; poignant when Watashi consumes it excessively in the final episodes. An interesting motif of note is the moth. At first glance, it would seem the moths serve only to characterize Akashi, but their presence in Watashi's room suggests greater relevance. Moths are an antithetical motif to butterflies—diametrically opposed to the butterfly effect is the eminent idea that vastly different events lead yet to one end. Throughout the different episodes, we get those various recurring elements, and Watashi's faliure to achieve the rose-colored campus life is present in each of them. Higuchi claiming victory in the episode 3 and 4 bike races regardless of Watashi's presence further supports this reverse butterfly effect. One can also read the moths as representing pitiful creatures, trapped by their tendency to flock to a light source, thus meeting a tragic fate akin to Icarus, whom the series references in episode 3. One can further read how their connection to metamorphosis is intertwined with their role in freeing Watashi from the Tatami Room. But I shall not dwell upon these routes of analysis, as I cannot do them justice. Now, let us examine the structure of TTG, and how it's used for both foreshadowing and narrative ties. Episode 1 introduces us to the initiation of the alternate scenarios and of Watashi's promise to Akashi. It also builds suspense through the peculiarity of what happens to Ozu at the end of the episode, especially notable in how it ties to what's revealed about Ozu at the end of the series. Episode 2 uses Watashi's film failures to foreshadow events in future episodes: the first movie to the episode 4 prank battle, the second to the wavering between three women arc, the third to the tatami room trap and the final to Watashi and Ozu's pseudo-romantic scene—never narratively integral but always welcome as foreshadowing. Other foreshadowing aspects include the fortune-teller's statement that opportunity is dangling in front of Watashi, referring to the dangling Mochiguman that he's unable to take hold of until the very end. The opening and ending also hint at being trapped in the tatami rooms. There's always a sense of mystery and suspense regarding the nature of the alternate scenarios. Parallel reality is foreshadowed cleverly when the episodes 9 to 11 Watashi enters the episode 5 ending. The series utilizes far more of these narrative ties, to a level few shows do: -How Ozu's circumstance in the ending of episode 1 ties to Ozu's stealing the blimp in episode 5, and to Ozu's true intentions revealed in episode 9. In the final episode, these narrative ties serve to grant context to what exactly happened in the ending of the first episode. -How the final Watashi's gathering money in the tatami galaxy provided an explanation for how the Watashi in episode 4 obtained the money for the tortoise toothbrush. -How episode 4 hinted at Hanuki learning English, how we learn aspects of her relationship with Higuchi throughout the episodes, and how episode 4 hints at Higuchi's desire to depart. -How episode 2 introduces us to the love doll interest of Jogasaki for the three women arc. -How Watashi's dream movie in episode 2 (about true love escaping position, age, and even gender) hints at Watashi and Ozu appearing in a pseudo-romantic scenario at the climax of the final episode. Yet another touch worth noting is that the reversing of orders for the opening and ending themes in the final episode parallels the role reversal between Watashi and Ozu at the very end of the series; Watashi becomes the dominant one while Ozu becomes hesitant. Now we shall move onto how the series conveys its themes. While episodes 1 and 2 serve as the introduction and episodes 10 and 11 serve as the conclusion, the middle of the series aims to explore different approaches of the rose-colored campus life. Episode 3 demonstrates the pitfall of Watashi working too hard to fly the birdman. He seeks happiness, but as the Icarus allusion suggests, he fails by soaring too high; to work too hard to seek the rose-colored campus life is itself a folly. This is the most effective commentary of the middle episodes because it ties directly to the ending that suggests one must embrace the life one has rather than trying too hard to look for something greater. Episode 4 serves as a reflection moment of Watashi simply goofing around, and how even that can contribute to a satisfying life. Episode 5 demonstrates how the pursuit of convenience can lead to a burden, through the health food story. Episode 6-8 comment on the pitfall of focusing on too many pursuits at the same time. Episode 9 displays Watashi's attempts to fully embrace hedonism and disobey moral standards in an attempt to gain satisfaction. All these approaches are proven to be ineffective, and the true solution the series posits is to embrace the life one currently has. None of the realities may be rose-colored, but each at least has a color, each has value that can be appreciated. The final episode also accomplishes two more things of note. Firstly, it provides catharsis as Watashi runs over to Ozu. We see glimpses of all the Watashis from the various realities call out to Ozu, and coupled with the soundtrack makes for quite a satisfying scene. Secondly, it raises the idea that individuals can appear more multi-faceted when approached from different angles. The quirks we see of the characters throughout the different parallel worlds scenarios provide us more context into who the characters truly are, rather than what they seem to be at a first glance. From an entertainment standpoint, TTG manages to keep the series engaging despite the repetitive nature of repeating the same scenarios. Although the motifs are recurring, they serve the purpose of interest and familiarity. TTG maintains freshness through different scenarios, commenting on various ideas while disclosing different information.Even the three episode women arc which directly repeated the same scenario three times knew how to spread out information for variety. For example, we didn't see the context for Jogasaki's and Watashi's drinking contest in the first episode of the arc, but it was revealed in the second. We also didn't get context into the pen pal woman until the final episode. Each of those three episodes revealed new information and different angles to that same scenario, thus preventing complete repetition. Despite all these elements of praise for the Tatami Galaxy, I have some gripes. Firstly, although the middle episodes each had at least decent commentary, only the thematic commentary of episode 3 was particularly great. Episode 4's commentary on reflecting over doing nothing of value could have been interchanged with any other scenario; it worked, but wasn't a distinct story for that idea. Episode 5's thematic commentary is of some merit, but the message of the folly of seeking trying too hard for conveinece isn't far from episode 3's message. Episodes 6-8 presented the pitfalls of seeking too many pursuits at once, but the idea could have been better if it focused on Watashi following more concrete ambitions, such as being divided between different hobbies or interests (which was the backdrop). This is primarily favorable to prevent the need of three episodes for that matter; not to mention the comedic effect of the "Jhonny" bits doesn't last for that long. Episode 7 was questionable since Watashi's obsession with the love doll is far too exaggerated for his character, and said obsession contributes nothing thematically to the series. Episode 9's pursuit on hedonism was fine enough, but it's more of small detail and isn't as thought-provoking or relevant to the final message of the show as episode 3's Icarus allusion. Although the characters have nice touches and quirks here and there, the concept in the final episode of "people being deep if viewed from different angles" required more fleshing out of the characters. Throughout the episodes, Watashi is exaggerated and serves whatever role or characteristic he's needed for: resolving to sabotage Jogasaki in episode 2, an extreme ambition to improve in episode 3, and a questionable obsession with the love doll in episode 7. His volatility can be in part excused by there being parallel versions, each mildly different from each other but parts of the true Watashi. Regardless, it hinders the portrayal of a coherent character who can be characterized throughout the story. Akashi is given sufficient quirks with her seclusion and her fear of moths, but her interest in Watashi throughout all the episodes is a little too contrived and questionable. Jogasaki is given the lovedoll quirk, which adds slightly to his character, but doesn't grant us much more from the arrogant individual he normally is. He's still his arrogant self; we for example don't see the nuance of given vulnerabilities given particular stimuli. Higuchi works well for his role. Though portrayed as wise, he isn't wholly responsible. Ozu is a fan favorite mainly because he seems to just get in the way but is revealed to have motivations of his own. However, Ozu’s personality change into docility at the end of the show, which differs from all the other realities is slightly iffy. This sudden dissonance can however be symbolically justified as either a consequence of his cutting his thread of fate with Watashi in episode 9 or his true nature outside of Watashi's delusions. Another minor gripe with the series is information that suggests the incorporation of time resets when the series uses parallel realities instead. While Watashi questioning whether he had relived certain scenarios throughout the middle episodes aims for suspense, it actually implies a time reset, thus conflicting with the parallel realities reveal. The clock symbolism at the end of each episode, though it's a strong visual cue, also has the same problem. Both of these fulfill their purpose in terms of engagement, but the red-herring it results in is a problem, albeit a minor one. Now, we may inspect those aforementioned criteria to see how well the Tatami Galaxy fulfilled its premise. 1.It did feature commentary on various approaches to the rose-colored campus life, though many of those episodes could have been handled better. 2. It did provide a fulfilling concluding message that worked well with the usage of various colors to portray the colors of different lives. This could have been a more nuanced message, but was satisfying enough. 3. It did show us characters from different angles through different scenarios, but there was room for much more with them. 4. It did a phenomenal job at narrative ties and spreading out information throughout the episodes that could be connected throughout. 5.The series almost always remained fresh and varied with all its stylistic choices and apt ability to spread out information across episodes. 6. The series also did a phenomenal job with all those foreshadowing aspects and building up suspense. One can see that the series did an exceptional job with (4) and (6), a great job with (5), a good job with (2), and an acceptable job with (1) and (3). As such, TTG had overall great execution of the premise it set out to explore. Consequently, dismissing it based on the contrivance of the premise is unfair. In addition to meeting these criteria, the series did an exceptional job at utilizing its symbolism throughout. Final Verdict: The Tatami Galaxy is indeed an example of a simple series executed really well. Although it had room for improvement with the thematic commentary, it accomplished so much with its symbolism, foreshadowing, and narrative ties that it easily makes up for it. Through its technical mastery of the little details, TTG is a great, accessible, well-made work and is a hallmark of the medium.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Jan 14, 2017
Flying Witch
(Anime)
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Recommended
Flying Witch has next to no conflict yet manages to remain engaging through its atmosphere, picturesque scenery, and soothing soundtrack. The show places utmost attention on the mundane to provide a sense of beauty for the ordinary that is easy to miss in real life. By basing some of its locations on real life settings, it further adds to its realism. Tasks such as gardening and cooking are ones that Flying Witch tackles while (hopefully) retaining the vewer's interest through its atmosphere and grounded character interactions. The characters in Flying Witch are less exaggerated than in some other slice of life series,
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even amidst its use of magic. Some of the show's comedy is effective precisely because it juxtaposes the mundane attitudes of its characters with the magical scenarios at play. The show effectively incorporates magical realism by treating magic and ordinary reality as essentially equivalent, leading to magic appearing to be ordinary and the ordinary appearing to be magical.
Rather than bouts of spectacle, the show showcases tasks such as microwaving onions and thinning flowers from an apple tree for half an episode. However, the show nails the interactions enough to retain engagement. Akane's playfulness coupled with Makoto's carelessness enables entertaining antics when the former is teaching the latter magic. Chinatsu's childlike and organic reactions to every situation are the most potent in the entire series, and Kei's reserved nature helps ground every event into a state of peace rather than conflict. The characters mostly behave in an ordinary and organic manner, which is appropriate for such a series. There is an element of realism to the blandness of the characters, as it reflects how uninteresting real life individuals could appear to be in ordinary scenarios. One may argue that the lack of conflict in the series is forced, but there can be many time-spans in real life where little to no conflict occurs. Final Verdict: Flying Witch is a soothing series that achieves its goals. The visuals, soundtrack, character interactions, and attention to a detailed setting all work to enhance the experience. For those generally interested in Iyashikei series may find Flying Witch to be worth watching.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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