Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
There are a lot of things that Metallic Rouge is not; it isn’t Serial Experiments Lain, it isn’t Ergo Proxy, etc.. But in its cyberpunk themes and non-linear storytelling, it has kinship with those anime and anime like them. This makes it rather unique in the present anime landscape, and it’s why I’ve been rooting so hard for the series despite not always being able to discern what it was trying to do with all its decidedly charged imagery and androids-as-minorities symbol politics.
Indeed, that’s been my sticking point with the show; pulling off actual, meaningful commentary on the contemporary political landscape is difficult, and most shows that try end up with their foots firmly in their mouths. For its first episode, I was willing to give it some grace. Since then, I’ve gone back and forth on how I feel about the series’ use of androids as a distinct social class. There’s a lot to be said about the show’s use of the charged imagery of police brutality and violence visited upon minorities, particularly people of color, how the characters being subjected to this imagery are androids that just look like people of color, and the bizarre worldbuilding choices that make this all the worse. The kindest possible interpretation—which many people will, understandably, not be inclined to take—is that this is a blunt-force tool wielded, somewhat clumsily, by a show that may have its heart in the right place but seems to not really understand entirely what it’s doing. (At the very least, Metallic Rouge seems to understand that things like police brutality and segregation are bad.) Thus, roughly, is my read on the series’ first four episodes.
Episode 5, though, is something else entirely, and I think if the series more solidly finds its footing, it will be off the strength of material like this rather than in political material that it seems unsure of how to handle. For episode 5, we largely (though not entirely) put aside the brewing conflicts in the series’ world. Instead, Rouge finds herself aboard a space-travelling circus, where she’s sedated by the decidedly creepy troupe leader, a character who identifies himself only as The Puppetmaster [Hiroshi Yanaka].
In his decidedly sketchy care, Rouge is plunged into the world of her own memories, and we’re treated to a warped, kaleidoscopic walk through her life story. Doing this instead of giving it to us straight is brilliant. It immediately makes this the most engaging episode of Metallic Rouge so far, and it gives us plausible room to doubt what we’re seeing. It gets us guessing. Are the strange visions Rouge witnesses reasonable reconstructions of actual events, symbolic codes that map to actual events, or just made up entirely, the result of the Puppetmaster rooting around in her mind, looking for the mysterious ‘Eve Code’, as he helpfully tells us he’s doing?
Memories of Rouge’s childhood—such as it was—blend together with conversations with her ‘brother’ Jean [Shunsuke Takeuchi], where vengeance is sworn upon the Nine Immortals who killed the pair’s father. Rouge’s first meeting with Sarah Fitzgerald is inextricably entangled with that of her death, of the blood on Rouge’s own hands. Gene plays a somber song on the piano; a bird drops from the sky into it and dies. A caterpillar crawls up the strut of the piano lid and morphs into a butterfly. People swap in and out freely, to Rouge’s apparent ignorance. The Puppetmaster looks on, trying to coerce what he needs out of Rouge’s subconscious mind.
It’s almost disappointing when the episode snaps back to reality later on, even though it means we get a pretty great fight scene involving a gothic lolita character who I really hope comes back.
It’s too late by then anyway, the Puppetmaster has what he wants, and Rouge cannot remember her ordeal when Naomi finds her again. Metallic Rouge may never get back here, but that it was here at all matters. Sitting alone in his throne room of sorts, the Puppetmaster says that Rouge will find him again when she’s truly free. We are left to wonder if such a thing is possible for Rouge. And here, at the end of what is easily Metallic Rouge’s best episode thus far, it flags in the wind, unanswered.
I don’t want to paint a picture where I say that Metallic Rouge‘s attempts at political commentary are worthless. They’re not, in a landscape where the bar is, unfortunately, often very low, even trying at all counts for something. But it’s definitely thin on the ground. I think what this episode delves into, a more psychological and personal approach to its characters, (along with some of the more genre-y sci fi stuff that I’ve not discussed here, which has been a strength of the series since its first episode) could really benefit the series in the long run as it approaches its halfway mark.
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I am getting a little tired of talking about how tough my life is, so I’m going to skip most of it. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know things have been complicated around here lately. I bring it up at all only to explain why the format is so different from last year’s Year-End List. This year slipped through my fingers, so I have not had the time, energy, or frankly the desire to concoct a nice and neat worst-to-best list like I did last year and in 2020. To be honest, it’s just also felt like a particularly mediocre year for anime. Certainly it’s the weakest since I started this blog.
That said, a brief Top 5 like I did in 2021 also felt inadequate. So, instead of a carefully curated list where I weigh all of my options intelligently, I’ve decided to embrace the chaos. This is less of a curated list and more of a sideways data dump. Some of these things have been written for a while, and are only finding a home here. Others are new. Some are very long, and some are quite brief. Length has no correlation to quality here; there were a few things that I really liked but could only summon up brief takes on (or none at all, in a couple cases, but we’ll touch on that again at the bottom of the article).
Furthermore; the entries here are not in any particular order beyond a favorite being at the top (which is actually the bottom because that’s how listicles work). They’re still mostly anime that came out this year, but some of them, as the title implies, aren’t anime at all, and a few of these things are—gasp—not even from Japan. Instead of worrying so much about format and qualifiers I decided to just write about the things this year that gave me a strong emotional response, made me think, or brought me some comfort in these bizarre times. Hopefully you’ll enjoy the madness.
That said, I wouldn’t quite feel right—
MAGICAL DESTROYERS
—if I didn’t start off talking about one of the few true clunkers I watched end to end this year.
Ah, Magical Destroyers. There’s something tragic about the complete sputtering-out that happened to this series, a reasonably strong first couple of episodes lead into most of the rest of the show being absolutely dismal, and if you wanted the bite-sized review of the show, that’s about all you’d have to say.
Of course, we’re not interested in being bite-sized here. What’s interesting to me about Magical Destroyers, some months on, now that the dust has settled, is the sheer scale of the drop-off. There was a big fall here, and I’m not sure how obvious that was to people looking in from the outside.
In premise, there’s nothing inherently wrong with Magical Destroyers. As I’ve said many times, its core conceit of a world where general, sneering dislike for the nerdy and withdrawn among us turns into outright persecution is a bit indulgent, but it’s not completely crazy. Nor is the idea that they’d then fight back. Other anime (Rumble Garanndoll and Akiba’s Trip, mainly) have done interesting things with this material, so it’s not that the show’s premise is the problem. Instead, what sinks Magical Destroyers is a massive sense of inconsistency, both in tone and just general competence. We’ve been here before, where an anime having bright spots makes the whole thing worse given their proximity to the mediocrity that makes up the rest of the series. Those bright spots aren’t meaningless, but with time, more removed from Magical Destroyers than I was when I first reviewed it, I mostly just remember the whole thing as a letdown.
Worse, there’s a particularly bitter postscript here. Like many anime, Magical Destroyers was created in part to promote a mobile game and hopeful cash cow. All told, Magical Destroyers Kai—the game in question—was active from just April to August of this year, a service life of less than six months. A failure to clear even the incredibly low bar set by such projects of ill repute as Pride of Orange’s mobile game. This is a truly depressing flit and sputter from what started out as such a promising project. Worse, given that I imagine quite a few people are out of a lot of money given Jun Imagawa’s pet project completely tanking, it seems entirely possible that the man will never lead an anime project ever again. Magical Destroyers represents more, then, than just the failure of a single series. It is the failure of one man’s entire creative vision, and the decision making of those who supported him. Worse shows definitely aired this year—the usual slate of iffy sequels, bottom-of-the-barrel narou-kei adaptations, deep pools of mediocrity like Revenger (brilliantly reviewed here by my friend Julian), and whatever the hell was going on with The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses—but I can think of none that so thoroughly embody disappointment as a concept. The rest of this list is going to mostly be positive, but I felt the need to revisit Magical Destroyers. For better or worse, the letdown has stuck with me.
“SHINKIRO”
About half of you are cheering right now, and the other half of you have no idea what this is or why it’s on this list. What is “SHINKIRO”? Aren’t those two of those girls from Hololive? What’s going on?
Well, yes, they are two of those girls from Hololive; that’s Gawr Gura and Houshou Marine (operating here as a very creatively named idol unit; GuraMarine), two of the VTuber Agency Imperial’s most popular talents. This is a music video. Specifically, a really fucking good one that reimagines Marine and Gura’s friendship as a sort of bittersweet romance. It’s inspired, is what it is. The pirate and the mermaid, more or less. A summer that lasts the rest of your life. The key to that vibe—a mix of nostalgia for a time and place that never quite really existed and an implied sadness that it’s forever out of reach—is the music video’s art style, a dreamland pastiche of pre-Millennium anime, reinterpreted through a modern lens by Studio KAI of all groups. I’m guessing the general idea was either Marine or Gura’s (I’m not huge into VTubers these days, but I know Gura is a city pop fiend and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Marine was too), and was followed through by art director Yuusuke Takeda, who has been in the industry for long enough that he’d have been working when this style was current.
The song itself is worth at least touching on, too. I’m not a music critic, so my vocabulary here is even more limited than it’d be otherwise, but to my ear this is almost indistinguishable from “authentic” city pop from the 80s. Things like this can seem transient, and thus not worth discussing in the same breath as “real” anime or similarly longform art like games or manga. But here, when I’m writing this in the second week of a particularly dark December, it reminds me that summer, no matter how far away, is real somewhere.
Oh, and Marine and Gura totally fuck in this video. Like, they don’t literally show it but there are a limited number of ways to interpret “two people wake up naked in a bed together.” Wild.
MAKE THE EXORCIST FALL IN LOVE
Here’s an elevator pitch for you; psychosexual Catholic battle shonen. This is another rule-bendy entry, since Exorcist here technically started back in late 2021. But it’s still ongoing, and yours truly happened to only find out about it this year, so this is where it gets written about (for the first, but maybe not the last? time). Exorcist is a real oddity, a battle series that leans pretty heavily on Catholic myth and morality for its worldbuilding to weave the tale of a teenage exorcist forbidden from the usual affairs of his age because he’s destined to save the world from Satan, a rare appearance by the capital D-L Demon Lord in contemporary manga. The general premise of said exorcist having to protect a seemingly-innocent girl who is actually a demon might sound like the setup for a fairly goofy romcom, but that would belie the fact that Exorcist is actually one of the gnarliest things that runs in Shonen Jump, if only intermittently. There’s something very surreal about the more straightforward romance manga aspects rubbing shoulders with the battle shonen flash, body horror, and unflinching depictions of abuse that otherwise color the manga.
Full disclosure, I was raised Catholic but am contemporaneously a practicing neopagan. So, the manga’s strange mix of subject matter feels like it’s simultaneously meant to cater to and repel people like me, folks who have not set foot in a church in many years and might never do so again. I think this may also be why Exorcist has struggled to really find an audience over here, but at the same time, that singularity of theme and subject matter is what makes it so distinct. Every chapter is a parade of these disparate concepts, and there’s much to be found in seeing how they’ll manage to work together this time, even as the material itself is often grim (see, any number of the manga’s very upfront depictions of sexual assault) or puzzling (the character of Aria and her concatenation of every possible meaning of the word “idol”). Exorcist is a true oddball, I’m hoping against hope that it gets an anime someday, but even if it doesn’t, it’s definitely worth a read if you can stomach what it’s putting down.
CASSETTE BEASTS
The first of several “there is really no way to argue this is even remotely anime” entries on this list, Cassette Beasts is a creature collector game from smallish studio Raw Fury. If you just want the buy/not buy verdict on this charming little indie game, I’ll give it to you in two sentences. Cassette Beasts is Pokémon for depressed burnout Millennials. This is unequivocally a good thing, and if you’re struggling to imagine how, you are not the target demo for Cassette Beasts.
Creature collector games developed in “the west” tend to get slapped with the Poké-clone label regardless of how closely or distantly they adhere to Pokémon’s formula. But while Cassette Beasts is definitely a riff on that formula, it’s far from just rotely copying it; more than can be said of some games in this genre. Aside from a number of flavor differences—for one thing, you don’t command the monsters, you turn into them, here. Feel free to provide your own “henshin!” shouts at the start of each battle—there are some important mechanical ones, too. The vast majority of battles are two-on-two, and you go through the whole game with one of several partners, who you can swap out freely at a café. In addition to Pokémon’s usual types, or close matches thereto, there are also Plastic, Glass, and “Astral” monsters, who lack any real equivalent in that other series. (Astrals are often themed in a broadly similar way to Ghost-type Pokémon, but they work very differently.) Speaking of types; hitting a type-advantageous move doesn’t just do more damage than usual, every single interaction of that sort has some kind of effect. For example; if a Fire-type attack hits an Ice-type beast, it’ll melt, turning into a Water-type. If that same attack hits a Poison-type, the toxins within the monster will ignite, causing a burn status. Metal attacks will shatter Glass-type beast, spreading damage-dealing shards all over the battlefield, but that same monster could strike a Lightning-type beast and cause it to become “Insulated”, reducing its targeting range in the process. There are quite a few of these interactions, and learning the ins and outs of them is recommended for those seeking to truly master the combat system.
The monsters themselves are fun, too. Not every single design is a winner, but of the 120 on offer here, the vast majority are fun in a fresh way that gives them a distinct look in comparison to Cassette Beasts’ genrefellows. One minor point of contention might be the often-punny portmanteau names, which is a naming scheme directly cribbed from Pokémon and used in many other games in this genre besides. Still, it’s hard to get too mad about gems like “Salamagus” and “Crowpocalypse.”
Some might also take issue with that “120”, since that’s relatively small a number for this genre, but if the pool of monsters and moves seems limited, it’s broader than it seems at first glance. For one thing; techniques aren’t picked from a simple level-up list here, and you have far more than four slots per ‘mon, comprised of both active attacks, buffs and debuffs as well as passive skills that are always in play and require no further input from you the user. They’re also not stuck on the monster that learns them; instead, they’re items in the form of stickers (those are what you earn from levelling your monsters), and can be freely swapped out at any time. (Sadly, although understandably since otherwise there’d be no real gameplay reason to use different monsters, there is still only a limited selection of what stickers are compatible with what tapes.) This lets you build different instances of ostensibly similar monsters pretty differently, and if you’re creative with your stickers you can come up with some powerful stuff. My personal right-hand man during my playthrough was an Artillerex—a flak cannon / T. Rex hybrid—who I stuck a variety of “gun” attacks of different elements on, plus the very useful passive Roll Again, which gives monsters a chance to strike a second time at the end of their turn and use a random move they have enough Action Points for. The broad type coverage and multi-striking made it a machine gun of total elemental destruction, and I never got tired of using it. Other monsters have more narrow applications, of course, but the fact that you can fiddle around with your creatures like this provides a huge amount of appeal to even casual experimenters, and I’m sure those who love min-maxing will find even more to tinker with here.
For two; in addition to the basic 120 beasts, every single creature also comes in a variety of “bootleg” types, which tint its sprite a different color, give it a different typing, and change what attack stickers they get as they level up. If you’re not picky about art, you could only a little disingenuously argue that there’s really more like 1,500-odd creatures, and the vast majority of them just happen to be insanely rare, since bootlegs have a Shiny Pokémon-esque rarity to them. Still, they’re often worth seeking out, especially since bootlegs earn rare upgraded attack stickers with bonus effects more often than normal monsters do.
Now look at this, a half dozen paragraphs about the gameplay and almost none about the story or anything else. That shouldn’t be taken to mean Cassette Beasts‘ only strengths are on the gameplay side. The story itself is a little rough, but the general premise—CB’s world is a mysterious island that our protagonists, and everyone else who lives there, are isekai’d to from our own world without warning—is intriguing, and more than the actual narrative per se Cassette Beasts excels at vibes. The main town’s theme; the melancholic, gauzy “Wherever We Are Now“, is an absolute masterpiece of game music and sets the tone perfectly. My generation is all getting older, and it’s nice to play something that understands that on an empathic, thematic level.
IPPON! AGAIN
The first offering from new-to-the-game studio Bakken Record, Mou Ippon! rang in the new year with a smile.
Some folks probably argued—amongst themselves or with others—over whether Mou Ippon was a sports anime or a school club anime. The truth of course is that it’s both, combining the former’s invocation of intimacy by way of physical contact with the latter’s easygoing warmth. Lot of blushing in this one. Between that and the constant grappling between girls, it’s hard to argue that this show isn’t at least a LITTLE gay. (There’s a pretty great sequence at the show’s halfway point where a new girl, the self-proclaimed “Wonder Child” Ana Nagumo, joins the club and demands to be thrown. Said girl joined the club in order to get closer to her friend. I leave the conclusions there to you.) It’s not the best-looking show on this list by a long shot (the actual judo is always drawn and choreographed quite nicely, anything else is a crapshoot), but it has heart.
At the end of the day, this is a series about the pure joy of athleticism. Anything else is secondary. Both our central cast and the series’ many supporting characters (mostly other judoka) face a fair number of trials during the show’s run—outside pressure to succeed, the difficulty of overcoming natural differences in ability, etc.—but inevitably, the spirit of the sport wins out.
MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM: THE WITCH FROM MERCURY
I’m fudging my own numbers here, since technically Witch From Mercury started last year, but I didn’t cover it in the 2022 end-of-year writeup, and the second season aired this year. So it gets to stay here, keeping the company of 2023’s motley crew.
I’ll be honest, I mostly think of Witch From Mercury as a yuri series. That’s not strictly true; it’s a war drama and a couple other things besides, but given that mousey protagonist Suletta Mercury’s relationship with her rich-girl crush Miorine Rembran defines the entire thrust of the series, it makes sense, at least to me, to put it in that category. Throughout, they struggle together and apart as the political landscape of the Utena-inflected school they both attend whirls around them, eventually engulfing the whole solar system in a conflict orchestrated by the main villain, Suletta’s sinister—and very attractive—mom.
In an intellectual, detached sense, my main criticisms remain the somewhat spotty plotting; the conclusion is just a bit too neat and it avoids asking many really hard questions. In addition—and maybe this is a me problem—the show’s sheer complexity and the amount of overlapping power plays, etc., prevented me from getting emotionally invested in much of the story in a very immediate way. Suletta and Miorine’s relationship ups and downs were really the only exception there.
Yet, it’s hard for me to be mad at something that can muster up this much genuine optimism and empathy even in the face of an overwhelmingly bad situation. (And the things going on in the show’s universe are certainly not great.) Plus, it has a canon gay-married couple. That’s genuinely significant, given how huge Gundam is as a franchise, even if the show’s owners tried and failed to walk it back in one of the most comedically cowardly company moves I’ve ever seen. A move that was eventually undone by the show’s own director. You can’t keep a good power couple down.
HELL’S PARADISE
It just ain’t fair. Back in the day, Hell’s Paradise would’ve gone to a workman studio and aired for a good 2, 3 years straight. It would’ve picked up innumerable filler arcs along the way. There’d be shipping wars. It would’ve been great.
But we are not back in the day. It isn’t 2006, and Hell’s Paradise was brought into a significantly less forgiving anime industry and absolutely choked out by the sheer volume of competition. That in mind, I really don’t know if I could tell you why this show, of all the ones I started but didn’t finish this year, is one that I went back to and eventually completed in the dying days of December, here. Maybe it’s just that despite various deficiencies (janky visuals, rote character arcs, questionable gender politics) it’s still pretty good at delivering good old fashioned brawls, with fights that make up what they might lack in visual polish with a genuine cool factor and a powerful sense of rhythm that lets our protagonists always feel like the underdogs in their quest on the violently hostile island referred to by the show’s title. Maybe it’s because it had the year’s single best opening theme. Maybe it’s because Gabimaru managed to be the ultimate wife guy in a year where we also got another season of Spy x Family (and on that note, I was dead sure his wife and Yor Forger shared a voice actress, but nope! Different people). Maybe it’s the killer aesthetics, with gnarly monsters derived from a deliberately twisted interpretation of Taoism.
Whatever my reasons might’ve been; the themes don’t hurt; by its end, the first season of Hell’s Paradise stresses that we’re all in this together. Perhaps appropriately, this ended up being the last anime of 2023 I finished, and that spirit of solidarity is worth carrying into the New Year.
OSHI NO KO
Lady Gaga summed it up best when she called the rerelease of her first album The Fame Monster. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; the Pop Machine eats its own young, and few in the industry are ever really spared. This is the thematic thrust of Oshi no Ko, and is a huge preoccupation that takes up most of the manga (and of course, this anime adaptation), irrespective of its actual plot points. But we’ve gone over that on this site before. What’s interesting to me about OnK is how as a piece of art, it itself is complicit in this cycle. This is both why it’s on the list at all and why it’s not higher up.
Oshi no Ko‘s main characters are Aquamarine and Ruby, children (/reincarnated fans of. It’s complicated) of the late idol Hoshino Ai. Yet, it’s Ai herself who ends up on posters and in key visuals, in the shockingly large amount of tie-in commercials related to the series, and so on. There’s haunting the narrative and then there’s haunting the broader sphere of Japanese pop culture at large, and that latter stage is where Ai is really at. There’s an apparent contradiction here between Ai as a symbol of promise and life snuffed out too soon and Ai as a commercial titan, but any disagreement between these aspects is illusory. Ai is viable as a commercial idea because she dies in the show’s debut episode; that’s the start of her legend, and is why people care about her at all. One leads to the other, and no matter how convenient it might be to try to separate the two, doing so is impossible.
On a more serious note, this same self-contradictory nature is why I haven’t really covered OnK here since abruptly dropping my Let’s Watch of it back in June. For some fans, the strength of the narrative overtook its real life influences when the mother of the real person who Akane’s early story arc is based on complained, and that woman was subsequently harassed by fans of the series.
Things like this make it difficult to go to bat for OnK, despite its strengths. The unfortunate truth for me is that, like a problematic pop star who ends up in headlines as much for bad behavior as great singles, I will probably keep following the anime, and it might even show up on this list next year, if I make one. Don’t expect to see it between now and then, though. Sometimes it’s best to keep your fandom to yourself.
THE 100 GIRLFRIENDS WHO REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY LOVE YOU
In a sense, what is there to say here? It’s a comedy show and it’s funny. Mission accomplished. On the other hand, though, there’s a real accomplishment in how affable 100 Girlfriends is despite the fact that it’s an over-the-top horny harem comedy that by its premise requires The One Guy to date many, many girls simultaneously. That sounds like a recipe for disaster in the context of a romantic comedy, but our boy here, Rentaro, just genuinely is that good. If you can remember the general sell on Catarina from In My Next Life as a Villainess!, the general idea is the same. Rentaro manages to feel like he really is the right person for all of the show’s women just by dint of the fact that he’s insanely likeable, with eyebrows the size of banana leaves and an even bigger heart; a total genius of emotional intelligence who knows exactly what to say and when to say it, a supernaturally smooth operator just because he’s so good at connecting with people on an emotional level. No wonder a half dozen girls and counting are falling over themselves to smooch him.
Which would be meaningless if the girls weren’t also great, but they thankfully are. Each is a classic harem series archetype either dialed up to eleven or tweaked in some other way, all of whom work together to create an absolutely pitch-perfect ensemble cast. Tossed in a blender of absurd comedy, overflowing with puns (thanks in part to a delightfully loose official sub track) and slapstick while mostly remaining good natured, a handful of exceptions aside. (I could probably do without the entire character of the old schoolteacher. But she’s a bit character and doesn’t show up much, so we’ll forgive it for now.) It’s also shockingly good at the more tender and serious parts of romance. It really seems like this stuff should suffer given the sheer amount of characters, but somehow all of them feel like they really do work not just with Rentaro but also with each other.
100 GFs is a silly, sometimes outlandishly horny show, but I think its genuinely big heart makes a case for it as perhaps the year’s single best comedy and one of its best shows overall; a perfect polyamorous fairy tale for the modern age. What else could you ask for?
TENGOKU DAIMAKYO
It’s probably for the better that this list isn’t organized like last year’s. If it were; where the hell would I put Tengoku Daimakyo? (Heavenly Delusion unofficially and widely, despite the Disney+ English release using a straight transliteration of its Japanese title.) We’re in murky waters, here. Heavenly Delusion goes some very strange and very dark places over the course of its 12-episode run. A run that feels, frankly, too brief to possibly contain everything the show explores. The series maps out a grim coastline populated by all the horrors, real and imagined, of the human psyche. Abuse, violence, teenage pregnancy, mental illness, human experimentation, the damaged relationships between people in crisis, eugenics, murder, and rape. This is bleak, bleak, bleak territory. Maybe too bleak? It’s hard to say.
The big Discourse Point about Heavenly Delusion was its adjacency to queer issues. “Adjacency to” because the plot point in question—spoiler alert, here—that Kiruko, one of the leads, has the brain of their own younger brother Haruki, forcibly transplanted into their own skull via some horrible procedure. This was criticized for appropriating the transgender experience, a point of view which, as a trans person myself, I sympathize with but don’t really find compelling, if only because Kiruko/Haruki’s experiences are so different from actually “being a guy in a girl’s body” (or any permutation thereof) that any similarity seems coincidental. (I’m open to the idea that I might be wrong, and if it is intentionally supposed to parallel the trans experience then it says some very bad things about original author Masakazu Ishiguro‘s opinion of trans people, but that seems like a big if.)
I’ll admit, though, it took me a while to come to that conclusion, partly just because wow is that a fucking plotline to put into your show, but also because Heavenly Delusion legitimately does dip into some dicey territory. I find it hard to justify the show’s ogling of Kiruko’s body, for example, and I have no idea what to make of a lengthy subplot that, without getting into the details here for the general sake of saving space, I found weirdly ableist. But I’ve also seen the exact opposite interpretation. Was I just reading it uncharitably? It’s hard to say.
But then again, I don’t entirely know what to make of most of Heavenly Delusion in general, and all that in mind you might think I dislike it. That isn’t really the case, though! In addition to its more obvious visual merits, the show has a real warmth and empathy to it in its best moments that does feel, despite the vast differences in just about every other respect, of a piece with the original mangaka’s best-known prior work, And Yet The Town Moves. A core part of a certain strain of post-apocalyptic fiction is that regardless of circumstance, people are fundamentally the same. Heavenly Delusion seems to believe that too, and is undecided on whether or not it’s a good thing. This is without getting into the show’s more bizarre, out-there sci fi elements. Even in brief summary, there’s just so much to this thing that it’s hard to condense into tidy little phrases.
I feel much the same about the show overall. I wouldn’t sort my thoughts into neat categories like calling it good or bad or even saying I have “mixed feelings.” But I have a lot of feelings, and a lot of thoughts. I think to a certain degree, simply being so memorable will count for a lot in the long run. Beyond that, who knows? Maybe I’m just not ready for this one yet.
VOID STRANGER
Inside the box is just another box. Void Stranger, a Sokoban-inspired block puzzle game from Finnish development team System Erasure, is by an order of magnitude the most opaque thing on this list. It’s also, just a fair warning, one of those pieces of art that is impossible to discuss without spoiling the hell out of it. So if you’re just looking for an endorsement, I would recommend buying this game immediately and enjoying being lost in it with the rest of us.
For the rest of you; Void Stranger‘s simple-on-the-surface mechanics and deliberately retro presentation belie what I’ve come to loosely term an experiential game. That meaning; figuring out just what kind of game exactly you’re playing is part of the game itself. What sort of story is this? What exactly can you do with these puzzle elements? Are there things the game isn’t telling you? These are some of the broadest questions you’ll be asking yourself as you work through this thing. During which time you’ll learn about Grey, a woman from a fantasy kingdom, and how protecting her charge, a bratty princess, led her to the bizarre labyrinth that is the game’s primary setting.
For a while, it will seem fairly standard, until it becomes clear that it’s very much not. To me, it really clicked when I “finished” the game for the first time. On your first pass through, you’re locked into what’s essentially the “worst” ending. The dungeon dissolves into incoherent chaos around you, a song plays, the road ahead becomes less and less clear. You have succumbed to despair and the world is nothing but a whorl of confusion. But then you start again, and things start to make a little more sense. Rinse, repeat, spend many hours cracking the games ludicrously elaborate codes, and things become a little clearer again. The game is a tug-of-war in this way; between the constant hazy fog that comes from knowing you don’t really know what’s going on and the little gemstone moments of clarity that do shine through. It’s an interesting, rewarding experience, and one I recommend if you’ve got the stomach for the game’s truly staggering difficulty.
Even if you do, it will take you a very, very long time to properly finish Void Stranger. I got quite far myself and still haven’t actually finished the whole thing. I plan to, of course. What’s the other option? Stay trapped in a monochrome labyrinth forever? Don’t be silly; even when you leave the maze, the memory remains.
SOARING SKY PRECURE
Sky fly high. They didn’t have to go this hard, is what I kept thinking to myself. Pretty Cure’s 20th anniversary is essentially an ongoing holiday, in between two adult fan-oriented sequel seasons as we currently are, but it was the main line of the series, Soaring Sky Precure, that best held my interest in 2023.
It’s not fashionable to say this, but at its heart, Precure is a fairly change-averse franchise. The series more or less found its pay dirt formula with Yes 5! and has been riding that train to the bank every year since, but what this means is that even changes that would seem minor to an outsider can be absolutely seismic in context. See, for example; Cure Sky, this year’s lead, being blue. It’s hard to overstate how enthused people were about the simple fact that the lead Precure of this year’s season was identifiably a color other than pink. Similar hype followed for similar reasons; Cure Wing is the first boy to ever join the main cast (he’s not the first male Precure full stop, that’s a different character from a prior season), Cure Butterfly the first adult, and so on.
This spirit of comparative experimentation did not stay throughout the show’s run, as what followed was a fairly typical (if notably episodic) Precure season. The ebb and flow of online discourse has of course led to some concluding that this makes the show bad. I say fuck that; this season ruled. Sure, you could describe Precure as artistically conservative if you wanted to, but the flip side of that coin is that it’s consistent. Every year you get 4-6 girls in colorful outfits punching the themed forces of evil to death, and it kicks ass every single time. This year had a particularly strong cast of villains, with the oafish Kabaton being succeeded by the leering, smug Battamonda, and then the honorable, upright Minoton, before looping back to Battamonda, giving him something of a redemption arc, and then finally revealing the main bad’n for the final few episodes. It was a ride!
Admittedly, I would not personally place Soaring Sky in my absolute upper echelon of Precure seasons; Fresh, Heartcatch, Tropical Rouge, and—sorry, haters—Healin’ Good, but it’s still a delightful and entertaining piece of work. I expect I’ll say much the same about Wonderful Precure next year, and I’m looking forward to doing so.
That said, there’s more than one way a kids’ anime can be great, and while some stuck to the tried-and-true methods, others were much more willing to experiment.
POKéMON HORIZONS
As I discussed when the original anime finally, incredibly, came to a close back in March, I have basically loved Pokémon my entire life, for better or worse. It’s baked into my DNA, and I’m never going to be rid of it. Pokémon Horizons, though, has made the series feel essential—like an actual part of the cultural current, relevant to non-lifelong fans—for the first time in what feels like a million years. There has, in actuality, been lead-up to this of course. Some of that was when Ash Ketchum finally became a Pokémon champion in November of ’22, some of it was in the making long before that, but with the new series it really feels like a page has been definitively turned, and a lot of that has to do with how different it is from the previous Pokémon anime.
Pokémon Horizons has nothing to do with being “a Pokémon master.” Competitive battling in the usual sense is barely a factor, our main protagonist is meek and initially doesn’t actually care about winning at all. And, oh yeah, she’s a girl. Liko, who had the unenviable task of stepping into Ash’s shoes this April, has done amazingly well for herself as the new face of Pokémon. She doesn’t have to do it alone, thankfully, as co-protagonist Roy balances her out and makes up the more fiery, battle-oriented half of their duo. Joining them are the Rising Volt Tacklers, the do-anything crew of the airship Brave Olivine who initially meet Liko when their captain, Friede, is asked to keep her and a mysterious pendant she carries safe. Suffice it to say; we don’t really know for sure where the whole pendant business is headed yet, but we know it involves a legendary hero of a bygone age, the machinations of a villainous group with the deceptively innocuous name of “The Explorers”, and a smorgasbord of cool-as-hell Pokémon battles. Did I mention there’s a Pikachu in a captain’s hat? His name is Captain Pikachu and he is cooler than any of us will ever be.
The main thing is that the series excels at a sense of adventure. The first Pokémon anime had been airing for so long that it tended to fall into tropes of its own making, and that continued to some extent right up until its very end (not to say that it was bad or anything, it could certainly be great, too), Horizons manages to feel as fresh as it does partly by simple virtue of not being its predecessor, but there really is a genuine sense of the new and unexpected with each and every episode. The airship gives the show license to set its adventures basically wherever, and it often takes advantage of that, helping even inconsequential-in-the-long-run “filler” episodes feel fun and purposeful. There’s also a lovely paralleling between the makeup of the Brave Olivine’s crew and the actual people who’re watching this show, with both adults and children represented, with Friede and company helping to mentor Liko, Roy, and tertiary protagonist Dot. In a real sense, the series feels like it’s bridging the gaps between generations, and that’s a lovely thing to see as a long-time fan of Pokémon. Here’s to 900 more episodes, god willing.
CHAINSAW MAN: PART 2
Wherefore The Chainsaw Man? Part 2 of the manga—which we’ll be discussing here, so the spoiler averse should skip down the next entry—began last summer to a fair amount of anticipation. Some of that has cooled in the intervening months, but for the most part, the manga remains very popular and widely-read.
This is a little surprising, all things considered. Chainsaw Man‘s second half is a very different beast from its first. Most of the original cast have either died or otherwise departed the narrative. Denji has a costar now; Asa, human host of the War Devil, and a sort of adoptive little sister in the form of Nayuta. In the process, Denji has lost one family and gained another.
But the biggest change has actually been in terms of pacing, of all things. Chainsaw Man Part 2 is a noticeably slower affair than Chainsaw Man Part 1. Indeed, the manga has adapted a deliberately tease-y tempo as Part 2 has gone on, even as the tension has mounted and literal prophecies of armageddon have begun to fill the air. But it has kept its core emotional roughness; a kind of pain that resonates very broadly and is the main reason that this thing is still so popular. Denji’s old life keeps haunting him, as disparate forces conspire him to pull the ripcord once more. He is still searching for answers to life’s big questions, he’s still not happy, and the world’s still going to hell. So of course, they’ve succeeded. As of its most recent chapter—its final, before a hiatus into the new year—Denji has once again cast aside any pretense of ordinary life to become Chainsaw Man, laughing like a maniac in the manga’s final image of 2023. The poor kid can’t catch a break.
ELPHELT VALENTINE
Look, this is basically a filler spot, but what are you going to do, stop me? This is my article, and if I say a DLC character from a fighting game I like (Guilty Gear -Strive-) gets on the list, she gets on the list, logic be damned. I barely knew who Elphelt was two months ago, and now she’s my absolute favorite pink and white marriage-obsessed heavy metal singer of a blorbo. It helps that she’s fun to play (and fairly simple, which as someone who is still very much a neophyte to fighting games as a genre, is welcome). I paid another human being $30 USD (plus tax and tip) to make a chibi drawing of her eating a large pretzel because I wanted my own unique Elphelt icon that badly. She’s great, and you will pry her from my cold, dead hands.
I don’t have the space to earnestly get into Guilty Gear’s genuinely weird-as-hell lore here, but her backstory is genuinely pretty compelling, as is the silliness of her arcade mode story in Strive‘s story. Bottom line; she brought a damn sight more joy to my life than most things this year. For that, she gets a place at the table.
SLAY THE PRINCESS
The other video game with an expanding, changing narrative on this list, Slay The Princess is a good deal more accessible than Void Stranger by virtue of being a visual novel and thus posing no difficulty beyond reading and clicking. But that shouldn’t be taken to mean that it’s somehow the lesser of the two (I wouldn’t say I cleanly prefer either to the other), or even that it’s harder to spoil (this is another section you’ll want to skip if you care about that kind of thing). The story is simple; you are on a path in the woods, at the end of the path is a cabin, and in the cabin is a princess. Your charge? Kill her. Failing to do so will, at least so you’re told, end the world and doom everyone in it.
Of course, things are more complicated than they first appear. The stern narrator who tells you all this seems untrustworthy at best, and there are voices in your head beside your own. The Princess herself is no ordinary human, either. But eventually, you’ll make your choice, to either free or kill her, which seems like it should be the end of this story.
Except, it is obviously not. You are on a path in the woods. You find her and save or kill her again. You’re on a path in the woods.
Time loops are one thing, but Slay The Princess’ entire narrative structure is based on iterative rings like this. What you do changes the woods, the cabin, yourself, and the Princess. No matter what you do, you’ll discover that the two of you are deeply connected. This is, after all, a love story. You kill, you die, you try again. Slay The Princess reveals itself as a love song from one myth to another. You are on a path in the woods. You are a path in the woods.
LEVEL 1 DEMON LORD AND ONE-ROOM HERO
Ecchi slapstick political satire fantasy!! It’s a genre jambalaya. And of the various fantasy anime that tried to tackle serious issues this year, One-Room Hero might honestly have done it the best. I’ve talked about this before, but it’s worth reiterating how utterly weird it is that this series, with its burned-out loser JRPG hero protagonist and his 404 gender-not-found shapeshifting demon lord frenemy, is probably the best satire of imperialism I’ve seen in a mainstream TV anime in years.
That’s not to say the show is an intellectual powerhouse or anything; there’s a difference between being witty and being smart, but it should probably say something that all of these cultural currents are so dumb that even a show with a character who dresses like this can poke fun at them. Other anime swung more for the fences this year, but I don’t think anyone hit higher above their weight class.
OTAKU ELF
In my head, Otaku Elf is this year’s version of My Master Has No Tail. Absolutely rock solid comedy / slice of life shows with a fantasy bent that seemingly rather few people actually watched. (I think Otaku Elf did a little better in that regard than My Master Has No Tail, but not much better.)
In premise, Otaku Elf is pretty simple. The title character, Elda, is a classic high fantasy-style elf who has inexplicably been enshrined as a kami in a Japanese shrine. Here, she uses her position to while away the centuries by indulging in her nerdy, nerdy interests, all while basically never leaving her house, often using her put-upon shrine maiden Koito as a go-between. Think Himouto! Umaru-chan if Umaru herself was taller, a bit less abrasive, and had magic powers, and you’re in the right ballpark.
Much of the comedy here is referential or (very) lightly satirical, but throughout, the show commands an impressive and easy charm that mixes well with its occasional moments of real pathos, like when Elda remarks that the way Koito eats her ramen reminds her of her late mother, the previous shrine maiden. Heart like that can’t be faked.
Undead Murder Farce
Another oddball that defies easy genre categorization. Undead Murder Farce seemed from a distance like it might belong to that millieu of Bakemonogatari-ish (and consequently, Boogiepop-ish) shows like In/Spectre and Rascal Doesn’t Dream of the Bunnygirl Sempai. In practice, it ends up watching like a strange cross between a detective novel, Bakemonogatari itself, and the Fate series if it were set in the Victorian era.
The detective part is the main hook, though, with the titular Undead girl being an immortal named Aya, a literal talking head who serves as a detective for supernatural cases that more traditional sleuths can’t really crack. Throughout the series, she, her assistant Shinuchi, and her maid Shizuku traipse across Europe solving supernatural mysteries and hunting for her missing body. Whether their cases are actually Fair Play ™ or not I can’t definitively say, but they at least seem solvable, giving the show an element of involving the viewer, as well as more traditional mystery series thrills. (And it does do those pretty well; it’s worth noting that this series is from Kaguya-sama director Shinichi Omata, and some of that style shines through.) Later, things get a bit more action-y as a plethora of period-appropriate public domain characters turn up—Sherlock Holmes, Carmilla, Frankenstein’s Monster, The Phantom of the Opera, you get it—which is where that dash of Fate spice comes from. These disparate parts work together pretty well, with elements like Carmilla’s queer-tinged rivalry with Shizuku adding additional intrigue.
Really, the only bad thing about this series is that it ends without resolving its main plot, being adapted as it is from a series of novels far too long to condense into a single anime cour. If there’s justice in the world, we’ll get more Undead Murder Farce. But if not, at least it made a strong showing while it was here.
SCOTT PILGRIM TAKES OFF
“At its finest, Scott Pilgrim is much, much more than it appears to be. It’s an ambitious meditation on what growing up means to a generation for whom comics and video games are not just cultural touchstones, but the dominant iconography.” That was The Globe & Mail, Canada’s newspaper of record, on the original Scott Pilgrim graphic novel and the then-upcoming live action film, way back in 2010.
I’m writing this, myself, on the last day of November, 2023 (and editing it nearly a month later). Two weeks ago, I had no working relationship with this series whatsoever. I wasn’t really planning to watch Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, Science SARU’s still-inexplicable anime take on the series. I had no reason to, having never seen the movie nor read the comics. But, circumstance is a funny thing, and what initially started as me wanting to spite a group of deeply annoying people (it’s a long story) has led to me flipping this thing over in my head several times. The nature of this list makes me deeply hesitant to crown an overall single “best anime” of 2023, even in the narrow category of ones I actually finished, but if this isn’t my single favorite, it’s at least one of several.
First, if you don’t know the story of Scott Pilgrim in general, of how an uncomfortably relatable loser-everyman manages to forge maybe the first real connection of his entire life with an uncomfortably relatable loser-everywoman after being forced to (among other things) fight her exes in combat, this whole entry might scan as a little incomprehensible to you. Sorry about that!
Scott Pilgrim is one of those things that started out fairly niche, and then became a touchstone, and then (probably unfairly) a shorthand for a Certain Type of Guy. So Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is then much less about Scott Pilgrim (the guy) and much more about Scott Pilgrim (the story). In general concept and execution, it’s not entirely dissimilar to something like Rebuild of Evangelion, in that it’s not a reboot exactly or a straight sequel exactly but more of a front-to-back rewiring that keeps the main players intact but does pretty different things to and with them. It is also a sequel, though. So to understand it we should at least touch on the original comic, which I read essentially in preparation for watching this anime.
To be honest, I would’ve loved nothing more than to completely bounce off Scott Pilgrim. The entire franchise—from the original comic, to the live action film by Edgar Wright to, I assume it’s only a matter of time, this anime—has been simplified into a punchline these days. You’ve all seen the tweet; “you are not Scott Pilgrim and that girl on the bus is not Ramona Flowers.” This is wrong on several counts of course; the girl Scott meets on the bus in the original comic isn’t Ramona, it’s Knives Chau, a high schooler who becomes his ill-advised mostly pretend-girlfriend. Also, I absolutely am Scott Pilgrim. So are you. So is probably everyone who’s ever lived, or at least everyone who’s ever grown up in this strange, strange era of history we live in. Millennials, who are ostensibly “the generation” meant to identify with Mr. Pilgrim, are defined by anxiety. We don’t hurt people because we mean to—who does?—but because the alternative to hurting people is doing something scary, and lots of us don’t know how to handle scary things. We’re all Ramona Flowers, too—I’m aware I’m contributing to a stereotype by being transgender and identifying with the character in any respect—in that for many of us, at least sure as hell for me, the default way to disengage with people is to just silently drift away without a word. Reader, I would so love to tell you that this is all me being dramatic, but if there’s any projection here, it’s solely on my part; Scott Pilgrim vs. The World read me to fucking pieces. I was embarrassed. It was bad, but I can only respect a piece of art that prompts me to do some genuine reflecting.
Of course, this entry is, actually, technically, about Scott Pilgrim Takes Off. The brand-new anime from Science Goddamn SARU, that has, actually, not a ton in common, at least plot-wise, with its forbearer. But it’s important to understand what vs. The World actually was. Because, just to hammer this home one more time, while Scott Pilgrim (the comic) was largely about Scott Pilgrim (the guy), Scott Pilgrim (the cartoon) is largely about Scott Pilgrim (the story). It is also kind of about Scott Pilgrim (the guy), to be fair, but only in the sense that everyone is “Scott Pilgrim” (the archetype).
Because Takes Off is also a sequel, thematically if not entirely textually, it can get away with snipping out character arcs in some places. Knives, for example, is reduced to a bit player here, and, as others have pointed out, the actual damage of Scott’s insensitivity—in the original, he hastily breaks up with her in a rush after meeting Ramona that leaves her heartbroken and defines her character for the rest of the comic—is by consequence pretty much entirely erased. Is this harmful to the character? Is it harmful to the show? I don’t know! On the one hand; Knives gets to be happy for most of the anime because she had her character development back in the comic and came out the other side a much more mature person. The fact that the show doesn’t literally chronologically follow on from the comic, so this is not technically “the same Knives”, is true, but pointing it out feels like nitpicking. The emotional logic of this sort of thing is a lot more important than the actual logic. On the other hand; Knives being reduced to basically a series of fanservice (in the old sense of the term) cameos guts her character and thus most of the reason people liked her in the first place. Changes like this one are divisive, and they are so for a reason.
The people who do get arcs are the exes—they’re the real stars of the show here, and in particular Roxie is elevated from basically a living joke about “girls having a gay phase in college” to a character with some actual pathos—and Ramona herself. It’s interesting that Ramona gets so much spotlight actually, because while the original comic was definitely mostly Scott’s story, she still got a fair amount of play. Perhaps it’s because the comic was definitely also guilty of sometimes treating Ramona as the unattainable, mysterious maiden she attempts to present herself as. Attempts that are, as the comic points out, covers for her own emotional flaws. Again; the main reason that Ramona and Scott get on so well is that they’re very similar people. The actual plot is a whole haphazard patchwork of goofy shit involving time travel and a whole very meta thing where the events of the series are made into a movie in-universe while they’re actively happening. Explaining all this in more detail would I think get in the way of an important fact; Scott’s biggest enemy is himself. No, literally, as in, him from the future, where he’s broken up with Ramona and is torn up about it and tries to sabotage his own past because of it.
Since, of course, a huge part of Scott Pilgrim is that trying to fix your mistakes is way more important than just feeling bad about them, they eventually reconcile to try again. They will probably try again forever. The amusingly huge Divorced Guy Energy of Future-Scott aside, it’s hard to imagine the two of them ever having a smooth relationship. But a smooth relationship and a fulfilling one are different things, and no matter what form it takes, Scott Pilgrim does understand that much.
On a more lighthearted note the whole thing just looks great. And it left a lot of questions in my mind, too. Questions like “if Scott Pilgrim met Shinji Ikari would they be friends or enemies?” and “how does Ramona dye her hair so often without it getting all dried out?” Anime that make you think are good, I’d say.
All of this then said, the question of whether or not this reimagining is actually “good” seems kind of quaint. I’m still not terribly keen on a future ruled by reboots, reimaginings, and redos, and I still think that this whole phenomenon of western companies hoisting sacks full of money on anime studios and telling them to make a Whatever Anime kind of sucks—although I should take a second here to concede that Brian O’Malley at least seems to have been much more involved in this than is the norm for these things—but if we’re going to keep getting more of these, more of them should probably be like this.
And that’s the list. More or less.
Is Scott Pilgrim Takes Off actually my anime of the year? I don’t know. I didn’t do the whole cutesy “guess my top anime this year, everybody!” contest on social media this time around. Partly because I don’t have a Twitter account that I use in any major capacity anymore, partly because it just seemed like a trick question. I’ve quite liked a few anime this year. Oshi no Ko was much farther back on the list, but despite what I said I probably like it more than this. Or do I? I go back and forth. The same is true with Pokémon Horizons, 100 Girlfriends, and Trigun: Stampede, which I couldn’t manage to finish a writeup on. Some of the older anime that I watched this year, like Earth Maiden Arjuna and The Devil Lady will definitely stick with me more than the vast majority of 2023’s own anime will. And even some anime from this year I genuinely thought were really good, obvious standouts like Skip & Loafer and BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!, I didn’t actually finish. Because! You know! Life is weird and difficult and sometimes even something as simple as making yourself watch a cartoon can be tough! This is without factoring in shows that actively disappointed me, like, again, Magical Destroyers. Or hell, Frieren, a letdown that I don’t really want to talk about in detail. With no better place to put it, here is a short list of honorable mentions that I liked—really liked in a few cases!—but couldn’t come up with even brief writeups for, didn’t finish, or otherwise did not get a full writeup despite every one of them having definitely deserved it.
Anime
High Card
Buddy Daddies
Dead Mount Death Play
Trigun: Stampede
The Ice Guy & His “Cool” Female Colleague
Skip & Loafer
Helck
BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!
SHY
YOHANE THE PARHELION -SUNSHINE in the MIRROR-
Manga
Touge Oni: Ancient Gods in Primeval Times
Sakamoto Days
Witch Watch
Magical Girl Tsubame: I Will (Not) Save The World!
Go! Go! Loser Ranger!
Kindergarten Wars
Destroy It All and Love Me in Hell!
Touhou Suichouka: The Lotus Eaters, Drunk & Sober
Cipher Academy
Otherside Picnic
Games
Ultrakill
Yume Nikki Online Project
Pokémon Violet’s Teal Mask and Indigo Disk expansions.
Art really has helped me get through an immensely difficult year, and more than just being a source of comfort, it’s given me things to discuss with others, things to look forward to, and moments of genuine sublimity that make the time I put into this medium feel worth it. I’ve rambled a lot in this article, but at the end of the day, I really just want to help people appreciate art, in my own, very specific way. Hopefully, this article helped you do that in some fashion or another. That’s really all I can ask for.
So where does all that leave me, other than with another year down? I honestly don’t know! I have no idea what the future looks like. I was going to type “for this blog” after that, but honestly, it’s just true in general. The future is an open void of unknowability. These days, I’m just thankful for every day I make it through.
And on that note; who knows what 2024 holds? I’m reluctant to make any specific predictions.
But hey, Metallic Rouge looks pretty promising, right?
See you next year.
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Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
Of all the anime from this season I thought I would still be writing about several months deep, this was maybe the last on the list. I didn’t even do a first impressions piece on Level 1 Demon Lord & One-Room Hero back when it premiered! To be honest, I simply wasn’t that taken with its first episode. There, the series sets up its central conceit; typical JRPG-style fantasy hero experiences gifted-kid burnout and grows up into a total slacker (same, dude), and is harassed into shaping up by the reincarnated form of his former nemesis. Together, they are the titular One-Room Hero, Max [Yuuichi Nakamura], and Level 1 Demon Lord, usually just referred to as that, but who we’ll call Maou, going by some info from AniList [Naomi Oozora]. (I think “Maou” might literally just mean “Lord” or something, but whatever.) That first episode was decently funny, but it wasn’t anything revolutionary. And its second followed suit; it was notably horny, for sure. And in terms of technical presentation, it was well-done (worth noting in the depths of production delays and jank that have defined much of the season), but it seemed like that was about all it was.
But, I kept watching, on and off, and the show started to take a very odd turn. The third episode introduced the show’s first proper arc, and it was here that, while retaining its signature zany comedy, the series started to take on a different tone as well. Beginning with the introduction of Fred [Yoshitsugu Matsuoka], one of Max’s former companions and, presently, a stooge for the government of the kingdom that they once all fought for, the series begins to question what would actually happen to the heroes of a traditional fantasy story if, indeed, they defeated the big bad guy and saved the day.
One-Room Hero postulates that they’d be rewarded with positions of influence, and it’s what they do with those positions that gives the series its unique identity; one-half a sharp, witty look at contemporary geopolitics as filtered through a typical fantasy world (albeit one with cars, cellphones, and the internet), and one-half a screwball comedy about a burned-out slacker. Max squanders his position. Fred becomes a behind-the-scenes power player interested in the kingdom’s welfare before anything else, including any kind of morality. Another former companion, Leo [Hiro Shimono], leads the breakaway Republic of Gamma, situated in heavily-terraformed former wasteland. The fate of the fourth, Yuria [Ami Koshimizu], has yet to be elaborated upon.
Thus, One-Room Hero becomes the vanishingly rare contemporary fantasy anime to actually try to address the sorts of things that monarchies—the most common form of government in fantasy anime—actually do. Specifically; the show’s wit for satirizing imperialism is shockingly pointed. This is most obvious with the ongoing Kingdom / Gamma conflict. You had better believe that, while nothing here is clean black and white, the show largely takes the Gammaites’ side. Leo is repeatedly shown to be pushing for a peaceful end to Gamma’s ongoing conflict with the Kingdom, whose forces are generally portrayed as unreasonable and only interested in Gamma at all because what they once dismissed as a wasteland happens to actually be chockablock with useful natural resources. (“Magic ore” here. I guess making it oil would’ve been a little too on the nose.) In episode 7, a government minister—unsubtly named Grimm—on the side of the kingdom approaches Fred and mentions that he’s working out a peace deal with the Gammaite government. He’s not, of course; in actuality, the visit sets up a false-flag terrorist attack that drives Fred to become an even more brutal and sinister agent of his nation. This as a capstone to an episode that is mostly about side character Zenia [Youko Hikasa] comedically failing to be a spy.
That attack, of course, is perfect pretense for war, which every important character on both sides of the conflict is well aware of. The buildup to the inevitable comprises most of episode 8, and that, as of the time of this writing, is where things stand. The show has never lost its comedic edge (and it remains egregiously horny), but it’s also genuinely pretty tense at the moment, as it heads into what is presumably its final arc. (The manga is still being released, of course, so there is presumably more after that. Still, we’re obviously hitting a big breaking point in the story.)
All told, between its genuine comedic chops and its cynical, satirical look at the modern political landscape, there’s an awful lot to like about One-Room Hero. Admittedly, the aforementioned horniness is going to put some people off, which I do understand—there really are a lot of pervy camera angles—but I don’t personally think it’s a huge dent in the show.
I won’t blow smoke and say that One-Room Hero is necessarily essential viewing. But I do think it’s quite good, and between this and Helck, it’s been a solid season for amusingly offbeat fantasy anime with a more serious undertone than you might expect. That’s a pretty specific thing for a season to be good for, but it’s worth a lot in what has, overall, been a rather weak year for the medium. There have been obvious standouts of course, but if One-Room Hero proves anything, it’s that even in apparent dry spells, there are often anime that remain under-sung and overlooked.
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All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
Well, I did not expect to be covering this.
BanG Dream is foreign territory to me. I’m vaguely aware of the general contours of the series, both in terms of its anime adaptations and the mobile game that I believe (I’m not double-checking, so if I’m wrong you’ll have to forgive me) is the original spawning point for all this. Before two days ago, I’d never seen a single second of any of the BanG Dream anime. A friend* convinced me to give the most recent season a whirl, and I was assured it’s legible to newcomers. To be honest, I was a little resistant, mostly because It’s MyGO!!!!!, as it’s called, made the decision to drop its first three episodes as a single bundle, an increasingly-common practice that I remain undecided on where I stand in relation to.
The show, on the whole, is perfectly fine. Episodes 1 and 2 did not exactly knock my socks off, hence this being an Anime Orbit article and not a First Impressions article (although I might file it under both archives anyhow) but I thought they were pleasant enough, if maybe populated with a little too much melodrama that’s not quite to my taste. Anon [Rin Tateishi, in what appears to be her debut role], who serves as the lead for those episodes, is a fun character, being weirdly pushy and inconsiderate in a way that the show neither condemns nor glosses over but which propels the story forward in a nicely economical fashion.
More interesting than her though—at least to me—is another of the characters, who episode 3 focuses on, and in fact, takes place entirely from the perspective of. Yes, for 22 unbroken minutes, we inhabit the POV of Tomori [Hina Youmiya]. Some people will, I suspect, learn some things from this episode. Others, like myself, will already know deeply and intuitively the emotional territory explored here. The series doesn’t use the term, but Tomori is very obviously neurodivergent, and I feel comfortable going the extra step and calling her autistic. The episode inhabiting her viewpoint is, then, an exercise in empathy-as-invitation. It explains to us, without her ever saying all that much, what the show’s world and characters mean to her. She doesn’t need to say anything, we get to see it directly.
I wouldn’t go quite so far as to call the episode “important,” but it is a remarkably successful exercise. We start with her as a small child, where we see that she is more concerned with collecting rocks and “things that roll” than she is in directly socializing with other kids. (There’s a bit where she tries to give a would-be friend a bunch of pill bugs as a gift because she thinks they’re cute. This doesn’t work out as planned.)
As we see her go through life, she feels a distinct disjunct from other people. Sometimes we have to intuit that disconnection from the episode’s visual language—where Tomori often feels “crowded out” by other characters—and other times we see her diary, where she writes about this feeling in those words exactly. She’s on a different wavelength from most other people, and is keenly aware of it.
I should here pause the recap to disclose something. I myself am neurodivergent, but I will admit that I have ADHD rather than autism itself (the two are presently considered to be part of the same spectrum of alternate neurologies, and are often found together. As far as I know, I am not also autistic, although given my current material situation I’ll never be able to get tested, in any case), which might change how I read some of this.
Nonetheless, to me, this sequence of events comes across not as pitying Tomori, which would be condescending, but as simply trying to get as inside her head as possible. Even neurotypical teenagers often deal with feelings of loneliness and isolation, so when Tomori can’t connect to her peers, her loneliness feels immediate and real.
The good news is that she’s not alone for the whole episode. Tomori’s first real friend is Sakiko [Takao Kanon], who she develops a connection with after the latter sees her reaching out for a flower over a bridge and gets the mistaken notion that she’s trying to jump off. Sakiko is taken with Tomori, and her habit of collecting things (which as she grows expands to include a color-sorted crate of notebooks she uses as diaries, among other things), and after rather rudely riffling through one of her journals, finds what she assumes to be song lyrics. Tomori doesn’t correct her, and this misunderstanding is the predication on which the two eventually form a band, CRYCHIC. Tomori, naturally, as the “songwriter”, is also drafted as the vocalist.
Despite the obvious problems with this idea (and the notion that she’s kind of being yanked around, which, as a point of criticism, the episode never entirely gets past), she rolls with it, and eventually does start writing actual song lyrics. In a school performance that we see only glimpses of, Tomori floors her school’s student body.
This kind of thing, where a shy wallflower “comes out of her shell”, is a pretty typical story template for this genre of course, but MyGo!!!!! deserves full marks for making this all feel believable in such a short span of time. Indeed, the episode could itself be considered the same kind of plea for empathy that Tomori writes in her lyrics. It’s an interesting way of making you actually feel the journey of these five people, who initially have basically nothing in common aside from a vague desire to form a band, to a believably warm friend group.
But if it ended there, that would probably be too tidy. The other side to all this is that, in the aftermath of the concert, Sakiko suddenly loses interest in the band and stops coming to practice (possibly because of rude internet comments or something, it’s not entirely clear at this point). When she finally shows up again, Tomori makes an accidentally insensitive comment, and that’s that; CRYCHIC are no more. What the show really succeeds at getting across here is that sickly lightning bolt of shell-shock, where Tomori (who, again, is our POV character) can definitely tell that she said something that she shouldn’t have but can’t really think of any way to rectify the situation. And, well, ask anyone who’s been there; people are not nice to non-neurotypical people when they make fuck ups like that. Sakiko is angry, the band’s drummer, Taki [Coco Hayashi] eventually becomes very protective of Tomori. The rest of CRYCHIC mostly just seem hurt and confused.
This is all a very complicated situation, and the episode ends on that unresolved note, as the rest of the series takes place some time later (this episode is, in addition to everything else, essentially backstory for Tomori and the other ex-CRYCHIC girls). Tomori openly says that she feels incomplete somehow, an emotional beat that just absolutely punched yours truly dead in the gut. Her new school in general doesn’t seem kind to Tomori, and the show’s actual description notes that in-universe she’s given the not-very-nice nickname of “Honoeka’s Weirdo.” So the episode just ends there! With Tomori alone again. It’s a rough scene, one I’ve literally lived through, and it’s only the implicit promise that things will get better that makes this come off as realistically sad rather than a complete downer. That’s a hard thing to pull off.
It’s hard to say how, precisely, things will improve for Tomori and the other former CRYCHIC girls. But I’m confident that they will, simply because this episode is so intent on wholly inhabiting her as a character. Compassion this immediate doesn’t happen by accident, it has to be actively worked for.
*hi Josh
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter,Tumblr, or Anilist, and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category. If you have any questions about this or any article, feel free to leave a comment, or pop on over to my RetroSpring and ask me there. It’s up to you!
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
At the risk of sounding like the caveman a decade late to the discovery of fire; hey, have you guys heard about this crazy thing called streaming?
No, but seriously. On-demand streaming has been a huge gamechanger for anime and its visibility in the west, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that we’re in the midst of a second anime boom following the original wave in the 90s and early 00s. However, that’s fundamentally changed how people actually engage with anime.
Allow me to put on my old woman voice for a minute. Once upon a time, it was not necessarily expected that you see literally every single episode of every single anime you were interested in. Following things on TV—usually on anime-focused linear TV blocks like Toonami—was an accepted thing, and only the truly grognardy would give you any shit about it. This isn’t really how things work anymore, with the rise of services like MyAnimeList and its primary competitor Anilist turning anime-watching, at least for some, into a number-checking competition. I’m hardly the first person to make this observation and it’s not unique to anime (Letterboxd has done a similar thing to film in general, for example), but it’s definitely shifted the cultural norm.
Which is mostly fine, but it’s left some folks my age and older a little cold, mostly because some of our strongest early anime memories aren’t things that we’ve technically seen every single episode of. Case in point; Sailor Moon, one of Toonami’s lineup regulars, the only magical girl anime to ever make a major cultural splash in the US, and probably the first thing that ever gave me an inkling that I’d rather be a girl. Not being able to “count” these shows isn’t the hugest deal in the world, all things considered, but it’s a little aggravating. It’s something that’s stuck in my craw—however minorly—for years at this point, and I did at one point plan on watching the entirety of Sailor Moon front to back to “fix” this “problem.” I still might, but honestly, isn’t that kind of a silly motivation to do something? Just so you can check a few boxes on a website?
Maybe so, and if something’s helped me feel a little less like this is some holy task I have to undertake, it’s been PlutoTV’s free 24/7 Sailor Moon channel. Why does this exist? I could not honestly tell you. PlutoTV in general is something of a mystery to me, as are its contemporary free streaming services like Tubi. It’s a mishmash of well-regarded and totally obscure TV shows and films (and a few stranger things, including live gameplay footage. Isn’t that what Twitch is for?). Most of that is on-demand, but some of it is exclusive to their live TV channels which, just like any old linear TV station, run on their own schedule and are periodically broken up by commercial breaks The only real difference is that this one exclusively shows Sailor Moon. On a loop. Forever. It is perhaps the perfect TV channel.
Strangely, at no point while watching this channel—which I’ve done a lot over the past few weeks, mostly as a time kill between other activities or while trying to fall asleep—have I felt the need to actually start Sailor Moon over from the beginning. I’ve definitely never seen the whole thing end to end, but I remember enough of the setup that I’m never lost, despite Sailor Moon having a fair bit more of a proper mythos than some of its later successors in the magical girl genre, and the series’ still-killer aesthetic ensures I’m never bored with what’s on-screen. Sometimes it’s nice to just have something like this that makes your brain happy, and that really is what I primarily turn to the station for.
So, what is the purpose of this article, then? I’ve struggled with that a little bit, to be honest. But sometimes I really do just want to tell you guys about something nice that I found and want to share with the world. I have no idea how well-known PlutoTV is, but I’ve personally never seen anyone else talk about it. Maybe I’m going to usher in the world’s biggest collective ‘no duh’ with all this, but that’s fine. Perhaps all I really wanted was to remind everyone that Sailor Moon is pretty great no matter how much or little of it you’re watching.
And hey, if Sailor Moon isn’t your speed, they also have 24/7 channels for One Piece, Naruto, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and Lupin the 3rd. Pick your poison.
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter, Mastodon, or Anilist, and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category. If you have any questions about this or any article, feel free to leave a comment, or pop on over to my RetroSpring and ask me there. It’s up to you!
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
Look, if I’m going to rant about a show for falling off I have to give it due credit if it gets back in the saddle, too. That’s just fair play.
On the other hand, I really do feel like I’m tsundere for this goddamn show.
It’s not like Magical Destroyers has really gotten any easier to understand since I last wrote about it just two short weeks ago. If anything, it’s retreated even further into its own little world. Subtext and any real stab at a larger theme have been set aside for the moment in order to riff on disparate tropes and styles from all over the last 20 years of anime history. I really wouldn’t say, even as it closes in on its final third, that Magical Destroyers seems particularly in a hurry to get anywhere. (Apparently, there’s a tie-in mobile game, which might have something to do with that.) But even as it’s seemed less and less concerned with making any kind of point, Magical Destroyers has rediscovered its love of style. That counts for something. At the end of the day anime is both an artform and a medium of entertainment; if you can’t swing a compelling take on the former, the latter is a pretty good consolation prize.
Case in point; the last two episodes. Last week, the series dove into an almost Sonny Boy-esque hallucinatory flicker, constantly going back and forth on whether what we were seeing was real or not. (It eventually gave us a definitive “yes,” which takes away only a little bit of the magic.) This week’s episode, despite being much less conceptual, is almost even weirder, though certainly not in better taste. How do you put a compelling spin on the yucky “brother and sister who are like, Too Close” trope? Well, I’m not sure it’s possible. But making them respectively a mutant severed head and a creepy The Shining kid respectively is certainly one way to at least try.
“She will never be ballin.” *Spits out cereal.*
This is to say nothing of the series’ ongoing habit of warping its own aesthetic around the characters of the week. This can, as we’ve established, backfire. But put to the right ends, it can really liven up an otherwise fairly straightforward episode. The series really does get into some proper horror aesthetics here. It’s mostly loving pastiche rather than doing anything “truly original,” but that’s in-line with the series’ general aesthetic aims, so it’s hardly a bad thing.
It’s worth shouting out the series’ commitment to one-off magical attacks that seem like they should be coming out of a bank system, but aren’t. Blue whips out two new ones here, and Pink gets one as well (in both cases, after the girls in question have taken a shady empowering drug. If the show’s edgy sense of humor wasn’t your speed toward the start of its run, it won’t be any moreso now), and they’re a lot of fun.
As for the running B-plot of secondary villain Slayer, that finally comes back around here, too. Although mostly as a tease for next week’s episode. It’s pretty fun when she manages to out-aggro girl Anarchy herself.
All told, the series seems to be back on track. Or at least, as on-track as something this proudly idiosyncratic can ever be. For my money, that’s a good thing. I’m slef-conscious of the fact that this article, where I praise Destroyers, is shorter than the one where I yelled at it for getting lazy. But that is just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. (Ask anyone, it’s easy to write about things that are done poorly, it can be much harder to articulate why something works. Sometimes something is just cool because it’s cool.) And honestly, if all I truly have to say is “it’s back, baby!” why beat around the bush?
I’ve followed a lot of anime this season, and I’d while be hard pressed to say that Magical Destroyers is the best of the lot, but it’s damn memorable. In the seasonal churn, that counts for a lot.
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter, Mastodon, or Anilist, and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category. If you have any questions about this or any article, feel free to leave a comment, or pop on over to my RetroSpring and ask me there. It’s up to you!
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
It’s always a danger with this kind of show; anything that’s more than 30% or so pastiche by volume will get lost in the weeds if it spends too much time reminding you of other stuff instead of being good on its own merits, but that isn’t really the specific problem that Magical Destroyers has run into as it closes out its first half. Instead, the issues are more basic. It just isn’t much fun anymore; the show’s always-questionable taste, initially a forgivable quirk, has collided headlong with its lacking character writing, incoherent plotting, spotty pacing, and, as of the most recent episode, the visual side of things is also starting to fall apart. None of this is good, and even if the series recovers it will be, if remembered at all, rightly dinged for having a weak middle third.
You can map Magical Destroyers‘ episode quality over time pretty easily. After a strong premiere, an even better second episode that seems likely at this point to be the show’s overall highlight, and a solid third episode, cracks started to show around episode 4, where the entire thing is basically an excuse for some tasteless fanservice. Episode 5 is fine, and even seems to set up some ongoing plot threads for the episodes to follow, but the two that come immediately after it are easily the show’s low points. Episode 6 is a dull and pointless elaboration on the titular magical girls’ barely-there backstory, and episode 7 is just a top to bottom problem.
In episode 7, the girls face the second of the Four Heavenly Kings—gotta have those in an anime, of course—but in contrast to the brainwashed car otaku in episode 3, this guy is….an angry gamer named Adam who cheat at video games a lot until he was eventually banned from every online game. It really must be said, Adam has an unforgivably bland design for a show like this, and his AI girlfriend Eve (of course her name is Eve) doesn’t fare much better.
Adam of course traps our heroes in a virtual world where he has unlimited haxx0rz to torment them as he pleases. Except, he’s not very creative with any of this—which is maybe supposed to be a vaguely meta point about the sorts of people who are inclined to cheat at video games, but it doesn’t really come off that way—and his attacks are mostly limited to generic stuff like rocket launchers and pistols. The SNES-style JRPG mockup segments are a bit more interesting, but given how off-model the rest of the episode looks, they almost feel like an excuse to simply have the characters on screen less often.
While all this is going on, there is a massive battle happening back at the home base of Otaku Hero’s rebels. We’re shown approximately none of this, and despite the threat of Otaku Hero and the magical girls possibly not making it back home in time to save the day, the plot is simply resolved off-screen. This is indicative of the show’s poor writing at this point in general, plot points will be seemingly forgotten about or just dissolve mid-episode, proving to be of no real consequence. Anime in this “otaku action anime” genre do not have to be exquisitely-written, but they do need to have impact, and virtually nothing that’s happened in the past two episodes has had any.
On top of that, it must be said. No one comes to an anime like this for its themes, but watching it—again, especially this weak run of episodes 6 and 7—has made me realize just how well written some of them, in particular Rumble Garandoll, actually are by comparison. That series never lost sight of the fact that people who loudly express disdain for art and those who love it tend to have ulterior motives for doing so. There is a reason its villains were from an alternate timeline where Japan won WWII; they were literal fascists, whose hatred of otaku culture stemmed from it being indicative, in their view, of a weak mindset that did not sufficiently put the nation first. By contrast, Magical Destroyers‘ main villain seems to just hate otaku because they’re otaku. He gives a rather over-wrought speech in episode 6 that makes him come across like the sort of person who spends a lot of time on tumblr ranting about how fanfiction is destroying young writers’ minds. He’s still ultimately wrong, but the ideological scope is not there, and as such his plans—and the show’s entire plot as a consequence—come off as trivial.
Otaku Hero’s ideal of a world where you can “like whatever you want however much you want to like it” is a nice enough idea, sure, but it’s not very specific. Contrast Garandoll‘s broad messages of unity and inclusiveness—even accounting for that show’s own flaws—and you start to see how poorly Magical Destroyers‘ writing holds up even against other anime in its own very narrow genre. When Magical Destroyers began, I saw a few people express disdain at the fact that it took its own conceit seriously. That isn’t the problem; the problem is that it’s not taking it seriously enough to actually articulate any further ideas it might have. And if it doesn’t have any, if the only thought it has truly is “doesn’t it suck when nerds get bullied?” then that’s all the worse.
Finally, the show’s production has begun falling off as of episode 7, and as a result some shots and sequences look astoundingly poor, with low drawing quality and bad composition. One hopes it’s just a hiccup, but it’s genuinely hard to believe that shots like these come from the same anime as episode 2, which still stands as one of the single most visually inventive of the season. And for that matter, the show’s own stock henshin sequences, which stack up to any from any more conventional magical girl anime of the past decade.
Will Magical Destroyers recover? It’s not impossible. There are a few high points of episode 7; a bit where Otaku Hero and Anarchy rescue Pink and Blue sees them walking in on the two mid-Uno game, where Pink is “torturing” Blue by hitting her with a pair of Draw 4s. And there are a handful of good to great shots and cuts, although honestly that’s true of almost any anime (very few anime look uniformly terrible throughout).
And while it probably hasn’t sounded like it from most of this article’s tone; I am rooting for Magical Destroyers, here. I like stuff like this! There’s a real point to be made about how the persecution of art can abet the persecution of people, and while no show in this small genre has ever made it perfectly, they usually at least try. What’s really burning me about Magical Destroyers at this stage is that it feels like it’s not trying anymore. Not to beat a dead horse, but you’re going to go on and on about the glory of anime and manga, and then this My Hero Academia reject is the heat you’re going to bring?
I initially thought there was a method to this anime’s madness, but it really seems like it might just be making it up as it goes after all. For a show where the premise involves a rebelling army of nerd guerillas and a magical girl named Anarchy, it hasn’t really lit the fires of revolution under me.
Nonetheless, because I’m a mark, and because I tend to get attached to shows where my feelings on them change several times over the course of me watching them, if it ever does get its act back together, I’ll be the first person singing its praises. Come on, Magical Destroyers! Give me something to believe in!
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter, Mastodon, or Anilist, and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category. If you have any questions about this or any article, feel free to leave a comment, or pop on over to my RetroSpring and ask me there. It’s up to you!
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
This has been a weird season, particularly for speculative adventure anime. The two original frontrunners, Hell’s Paradise and the unrelated Heavenly Delusion, have respectively gotten kind of boring and completely unhinged in a way where I, personally, am holding off on covering it for now. That leaves a gap, and where there’s a gap, other things will step up to the plate. If you’re asking about what adventure anime I’ve been enjoying in a comparatively uncomplicated way, there are two answers, neither of which I would’ve expected giving just two weeks ago; Magical Destroyers (which was unhinged from the start) and this, Dead Mount Death Play. Neither are flawless by any means, but the nature of expectations is sometimes such that you end up enjoying things that you expected less out of in the first place more than things you had high hopes for that may or may not live up to those hopes.
As for DMDP itself, the gist since we last checked in with our necromancer boy Polka and his funky phantom friends is this; he’s joined the organization that was hunting him down back in episode one. He’s a coup, really, for this shady group of assassins, and their leader, the mysterious Clarissa [Atsumi Tanezaki]. (A side note, we’ll be calling “Polka” “Kabane” from this point out, referring to his character bio, because distinguishing him from the guy who used to be Polka Shinoyama is going to be important shortly) Misaki, predictably, is also around again, having been revived at the end of episode 2 following some exposition about Polka’s past. I was not crazy on the show’s attempts to sell both Kabane and Misaki (who seem to be co-headlining as leads at this point) as “sympathetic bad guys”, but the rest of the episode was quite good, including a sequence where Kabane rescued some kids from a fire in an unlicensed orphanage via summoning their parents’ souls into skeletons. He even caused a huge social media firestorm in the process, setting up a lurking background plot thread as we roll into episode 3 here.
Episode 3 quickly confirms that, regardless of whether or not he’s truly “villainous”, we are going to get to see Kabane properly fuck some people up. It’s really pretty straightforward; for as much as he might want to live a peaceful life in his new home, he does need money, and his talents point him toward assassination as a possible career path. He doesn’t even hand-wring over it, really, and his only token objection is shot down by Misaki pointing out that he was competent enough to kill her, and, after all, she’s a professional assassin too. Kabane and Misaki get a good dynamic going here when the time comes to smack around some yakuza. (Or something. They sure seem like yakuza to me but the show never uses the term.) Misaki, now basically a zombie, is immune to minor inconveniences like gunshots and such, so she handles all of the rough-and-tumble physical aspects of fighting. Kabane, the necromancer, finishes things off with his magic.
It’s also because of Kabane that they end up in this situation in the first place. One of Dead Mount Death Play’s recurring tricks is to set up a scene in one way—here, by making it seem like Kabane is talking to a guy who comes to Misaki for protection—and then reveal that he’s actually been talking to ghosts. In this case, that means deliberately leading himself and Misaki into a trap to get some vengeance for the many children-spirits that haunt this particular group of bad guys. These aren’t really meant to be twists, exactly, but it’s still a cool way to convey the narrative. It’s especially helpful when the show’s visual chops are otherwise more functional than great. (Although there is a really wonderful moment here where Misaki Naruto-runs for a couple seconds. That can make up for a lot of so-so cuts.)
Death Play seems to be setting up this thing where Kabane is, in a sense, less of a villain than the real-world sorts he crosses swords with; hitmen and so on. There’s an intriguing bit in here where he and Takumi, the hacker who’s now serving as his mission control of sorts, have a conversation about the value of human life. Kabane likens human life to toys. But, he says, he’s fond of toys, because they make children smile. This prompts Kabane to reflect on whether the real disconnect in their thinking is not how they value people but how they value things. It’s an interesting little dialogue, although the larger points it might be trying to make have not really connected just yet. Oh, somewhere in here it’s also mentioned that Polka—the real Polka—is still alive, and his soul is bound to a small drone that Kabane took control of last week. Where is all that going? Who knows!
We also learn about “Lemmings” here, in a separate exchange, apparently some kind of assassin-boogieman with a codename that, personally, just makes me think of the computer game. “Lemmings” doesn’t really remain a mystery for long. The closing minutes of the episode introduce us to two new characters who’ve shown up before but not gotten any spotlight before now. These are Tsubaki Iwanome [Takuya Eguchi] and Kouzaburou Arase [Nobuhiko Okamoto], a pair of cops who work for a branch of the government that deals with the paranormal. They get on Kabane’s trail because of the aftermath of the yakuza fight; a massive knot of clumped-together earth and mangled bodies, all of whom are still alive, because Kabane is hardcore like that. Thus, our first major arc sets its wheels in motion, and Dead Mount Death Play seems to snap into focus.
This is not a flawless show by any means; it’s visually a bit too dark (enough that it’s occasionally hard to puzzle out what’s going on), and the sense of humor is markedly dated. Sometimes in a charming way (Misaki’s whole kooky murder-girl personality) and sometimes in a very grating one (basically everything else), and its use of totally shameless fanservice feels pretty out of place in something like this. Still, the show is solid fun, and I enjoy tuning in every week.
Of course, what I would really love is to see it take that extra step up and go from good to great. Will it? Only time will tell.
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All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
One thousand two hundred and thirty-two. That’s how many episodes, in sum total, the original Japanese run of the entire Pokémon anime has. The episode that aired just two days ago, “The Rainbow & The Pokémon Master”, is the 1,232nd. I’m not trying to wow you with sheer numbers here—although if I were, just for reference, that’s about 400 more episodes than The Simpsons, perhaps the only American cartoon with an episode count in even the same ballpark—but I am trying to make a point. 1,232 episodes over the course of 26 years is a truly stunning achievement. Even if the show were utterly unremarkable in content, that would be worth commenting on.
But we’re not here to evaluate quality today. That’d be pretty much impossible for Pokémon, something that has sunk its fangs into my psyche as much as it has any other Millennial of a certain age and disposition. When I started watching the Pokémon anime—and really, that is how pretty much everyone still refers to it, as either just “the cartoon” or, if they’re slightly more of a weeb, “the anime”—I was a literal child. It was one of the first cartoons period I was ever invested in, long before I had any idea that cartoons from different parts of the world could be meaningfully different, Pokémon, when I first got into it as a child, offered me something very different from any cartoon I’d seen before.
My experience with TV had been very limited up to that point. I grew up in a fairly religious household where things like television were considered distractions and possible corrupting influences. We only got a TV in our house at all in the year 2000, and my grandmother had to do some convincing to convince my mom to pick up cable. It was a tiny hand-me-down thing with a fuzzy picture. Nonetheless, the Pokémon cartoon became important to me. How could it not? I was six years old, and here was this thing chucking all these crazy monster designs at me, and telling me that a young kid Just Like Me (more or less), could have adventures, make friends, and that there was a world outside of the town you grow up in.
I won’t pretend I’ve religiously followed the series in the 23 years since then. (Has anybody? I think even those who’ve seen all the episodes are more likely to have marathoned it in chunks, but maybe I’m underestimating the true Pokemaniacs out there.) But Pokémon has remained part of my life. I’m neurodivergent, and it was, to my recollection, my second total special interest after dinosaurs (I had a big, illustrated encyclopedia of dinosaurs. Wish I still had that thing!), and it’s remained enough of a hobby that I preordered Pokémon Violet. (I also play a fair few Pokémon ROMHacks, but we’re getting into hobbies-within-hobbies at that point) It’s stayed both a part of the cultural conversation and a part of my life, so seeing it finally end as of this 11-episode “postscript” season, after Ash has finally won a championship, feels not so much bad or good, but rather just surreal. I remember the news taking a while to really process for me. As in: “what do you mean the Pokémon anime is ending?” If it feels like the end of an era, it very much is. There will continue to be aPokémon anime; two new protagonists are slated to start their own journey in just a few weeks, but the Pokémon anime that stars Ash—Satoshi in the original JP—is now officially over. That’s nuts. And I have thought about whether I wanted to even write anything about it, because on some level “that’s nuts” is all you can really say, but not writing anything would be even crazier. This series has been a part of my life since I could read. I have to say something, right?
Then let me say this; if the miniseries’ purpose was to kick shots of pure nostalgia right into my brain, it worked splendidly, and the last episode might be the purest example of that in the whole show. There are a lot of one more‘s in this episode. One more time where Brock gets all lovesick and then gets reprimanded by his Croagunk, one more Team Rocket scheme to snatch Pikachu, one more example of Ash bonding with a Pokémon he just met (it’s a Charmander here; Professor Oak has a new round of trainers to give starter Pokémon to, don’t you know?), etc. If you wanted to be cynical you could describe it as box-ticking. But honestly, there’s so much obvious affection in every frame of this anime that I really find it hard to summon up such a criticism. Toward the end of the episode, Ash’s Pidgeot, the second Pokémon he ever caught, returns to his team, and it’s such a hugely obvious nostalgia play that I started tearing up. I am not immune to affection from giant birds.
In general, they cram quite a few Pokémon into this episode, actually, although I’m sure some will nitpick some omissions. (The big surprise to me is that Ash’s Charizard doesn’t show up for even a split second. When a scene briefly calls for a big draconic flier, his much more recently-acquired Dragonite does the job instead. I’m not complaining, but it is slightly surprising!)
What took me from having watery eyes to full-on bawling was the final scene, where Ash and Pikachu—plus a bunch of Kanto wildlife—take refuge under a tree as a storm passes overhead. This too is a callback; you’ll remember that the very first arc of the series involved Ash biking through a thunderstorm as he tried to protect Pikachu from a flock of Spearows. More than just a reference, though, it’s a meaningful inversion. Back then, the Pokémon were hostile. Here, everything is peaceful and serene; Ash may not consider himself a Pokemon master yet, but in spite of the endless “eternal 11 year old” jokes, he’s clearly grown, and the show itself reflects that.
Not long after, Ash and Pikachu set off again, but this time, we don’t follow along. Our journey together ends here.
But, like I said near the top of this article, this isn’t really the end. The show itself acknowledges that; the retro “To Be Continued…!” text that’s closed out each episode of the miniseries says something a little different here, and really, can you argue with it?
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter, Mastodon, Anilist, or Tumblrand supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category.
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week.
Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.
It’s not common, but it happens; an anime that is decidedly fine but not great will unexpectedly just tap into something: a raw vein of resonant or intense emotion, a particularly strong theme, an exceptionally charismatic character will appear, etc. In doing this, the show goes supernova, breaking itself out of whatever little genre-box it’s stuck in and becoming something pretty unique—or at least interesting—in the process. If not permanently, at least for a while. Thus, we have the anime adaptation of The Magical Revolution of The Reincarnated Princess & the Genius Young Lady, a series that has been on Magic Planet Anime before, though not actually in its anime form.
I haven’t covered the series’ anime adaptation until this point because, frankly, until today, I wasn’t terribly impressed with it. I fell off following the manga not long after writing that original Manga Shelf column. And since then, Magical Revolution—MagiRevo, to its friends—has stuck in my mind, certainly, but not been at the forefront of it. Its anime, in particular, I have been a bit down on; just by being an anime, it has the obvious baked-into-the-format disadvantage of simply being of fixed, linear length, meaning that the balancing act between the more lighthearted yuri elements of the series and the more serious, dramatic, and intrigue-driven plot of the series has not always been easy to keep up, given that it’s stripped of the flexibility presented by reading a manga nor novel at one’s own pace. Sometimes, it has felt like watching two anime glued together. But no longer! Over its past few episodes, MagiRevo has largely discarded any pretense of being light and fluffy and has dived headlong into some surprisingly big ideas. Any feeling of trying to split the difference is long in the rearview by now.
To very briefly get the uninitiated up to speed: after what I previously discussed in the Manga Shelf column, MagiRevo starts getting into the story of Anis’ (Sayaka Senbongi) brooding younger brother Algard (Shougo Sakata). It was clear from day one that Algard was up to something, but over the course of, in particular, episodes 8 and 9, the series paints a compelling portrait of a man who is deeply troubled by the feudal realities of the world he lives in, and who takes drastic steps in reaction to them. It’s not long before he’s literally ripping the magical power out of supporting character and basically-a-vampire Lainie (Hina Youmiya), leaving her for dead in the process, and attempting to stone-cold murder his sister to secure his ascension to the throne.
This goes poorly for Prince Al, who at this point has basically ruined his own life as part of this harebrained plot to get Anis out of the picture. The tragic thing is that his motives are quite sympathetic! We see him moved by the plight of the poor, and furious at how his fellow nobles turn up their noses at those commoners. But tragically, he has no real idea of how to turn that righteous indignation into an actual plan to fix things. He conflates these systemic issues with his own complicated jealousy of his sister, and throws any real shot at repairing the underlying problems of the show’s world away for petty score-settling. He is, honestly, pretty lucky to get out of the whole ordeal alive at the end of the arc. Although being exiled to the kingdom’s borderlands ensures he won’t be playing a major role in the plot again any time soon.
Look at how smug he is about it.
That exile creates a new problem, though. With Algard out of the picture, Anis is once again the kingdom’s only valid heir. Her father, Orphanse II, restores her hereditary rights, and Anis is suddenly faced with the prospect of being forced into a queenly role that she neither wants nor is suited for. Perhaps surprisingly, she accepts all of this without much of a fight, resigning herself to her “duty” to the kingdom and to the other nobles, in spite of the fact that it’s not what she wants and that she isn’t the right person for the job anyway.
There’s an element of sad irony here; Anis, a genius in what is basically her world’s version of a STEM field, can’t seem to quite pick apart the systemic issues that her brother could. (We don’t get a great sense of what Anis actually thinks of the whole socioeconomic setup of her kingdom. She clearly likes the commoners as people, but it’s not clear if she really understands what makes them commoners in the first place the same way her brother did.) Algard, of course, wasn’t smart enough to come up with a way to solve those issues. One gets the sense that if they had been working together from the start, things would be much more on-track at this point, but complex interpersonal problems have gotten in the way, and the situation, as it stands at the end of episode 10, is very complicated all around.
This leaves Euphie in quite the spot, too. Episode 10 does a wonderful job of capturing just how powerless Euphie feels to really help Anis in any meaningful way. The succession issue is her problem too, since she loves Anis—she actually explicitly says as much here for the first time, no subtext here—and can’t stand to see her making forced smiles through the whole process of preparing for queenship. (This seems to mostly involve winning over the country’s nobility, which, given what we’ve seen of them, and given that we already know that they hate Anis because she can’t do magic, would seem like profoundly thankless work even if the show didn’t outright say as much.) She eventually goes to curse scholar and only slightly toxic friend of Anis, Tilty (Yuu Sasahara), for advice, and Tilty eventually gets it out of her that it’s not just that Euphie can’t solve Anis’ problems, it’s that Anis’ problems are her own, given how close they are. It’s worth reiterating the feeling of powerlessness captured here; the inadequacy, the friction between Euphie’s own feelings and the outside world. It’s surprisingly intense stuff, especially given that it’s mostly conveyed solely through dialogue, which, it’s worth noting, is wonderfully voice-acted.
Between Euphie’s feelings, Anis’ situation, and Algard’s arc that led up to that situation, the show also does a pretty good job of exploring how the systems that create the upper classes tend to strip even those people they’re intended to privilege of genuine happiness. Every single one of these characters is a landed and titled noble, wealthy in ways that you or I cannot really imagine, and they are all absolutely fucking miserable. It takes a deft hand to make that kind of thing actually sympathetic.
All in all, MagiRevo has become dark, fascinating, and surprisingly heady for something that really seemed like it wasn’t going to ever amount to much more than a power fantasy. (A gay power fantasy, which is a thing worth having, but a power fantasy nonetheless.) Episode 10 leaves us with the introduction of a new character—the mysterious Lumi, whose spirit contracts may offer a way out of Anis’ situation, but there are clearly some strings attached we’re not totally privy to yet—and a lot of unanswered questions. And, hey, on top of all that, there’s also a pretty spectacular bit in episode 9 where the maid Ilia (Ai Kakuma) saves Lainie’s life by making out with her. That’s pretty great too.
Absolutely bitchin’.
There is still a very promising year ahead of us, as far as anime goes, so I don’t know how many people—myself included!—will really remember MagiRevo’s surprisingly strong turn here come December. (Honestly, even if it totally flames out in its final two episodes, having a strong middle section is noteworthy enough, given how many single cour anime manage to have a noticeably weak one.) And fans of the original light novels, or even just those who’ve kept up with the manga, won’t be as shocked, of course, but the raising-of-stakes here is pretty great all around, and it’s taken MagiRevo from a show that’s decidedly okay to one that’s absolutely worth keeping an eye on. In a season this quiet, things like this have a chance to stand out that they might not otherwise get, but even in a stronger season, something like this would be worth taking note of. Mark MagiRevo down for “most improved since its premiere.”
A Note: I have COVID-19 at the moment. I think I’m through the worst of the infection, but that’s why content has been so scarceon the site lately, and it will probably continue to be irregular at best for a while longer. Hoping to be fully recovered by the end of the season so I can get on top of next season’s premieres! But, I don’t want to promise anything. If you’d like to help, now more than ever, I would appreciate donations at the links below.
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter, Mastodon, Anilist, or Tumblrand supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category.
All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
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