Category: Misc. Anime

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Reviews

Ranking Every 2020 Anime (That I Actually Finished), From Worst to Best – Part 4

Before we get started, a brief reminder to check out the Introduction post and the previous 3 parts of the list before you read this one. Don’t wanna spoil yourself, y’know?

In any case; there were plenty of anime I liked in 2020, some of which I liked quite a lot. There were not nearly as many that I truly loved. But of those I did, they fall into one of two categories. Either they are sharp, questioning, and political. Or they are joyous reaffirmations of how art can affect us, and how it can carry us forward even through the darkest times of our lives. The two are dissimilar, but complimentary. The former is grounded in realism and the latter in escapism. They tend toward the pessimistic and optimistic, respectively. I think that reflects the character of the year–and I suppose, of myself–quite well. Hopefully you agree. On to the final five!

#5: DECA-DENCE

Not since Kill la Kill has a studio produced an original anime debut so immediately sharp and arresting. I have to admit, I turned that statement over in my head for literal days before committing to it, but it’s true. Nut Co. Ltd. have done TV anime before, but aside from an assist on the polarizing FLCL sequels, their most well-known work before Deca-Dence was The Saga of Tanya The Evil, which, whatever one may think about it, was a manga adaption that stuck fairly close to its origins.

Any flaws aside; Deca-Dence feels very much like a wholly-realized singular artistic vision, from start to finish. The sort that is fairly rare in commercial arts fields (which TV anime certainly is). What’s more, it is nakedly political, with a witheringly on-point cross-examination of the evils of capitalism and its dire endpoints as exemplified by its very setting; a post-apocalyptic world which is exploited as a “real life video game” by the ruling class. Which would maybe make it a slog if the show weren’t so damn fun. Visually, Deca-Dence pops with bright colors, steampunk-inspired machines, and a design sensibility for its robot characters that feels inherited from Kaiba, one of the all-time great anime of this sort. Narratively, there’s enough action and compelling character drama to keep things from getting stale or feeling preachy. Deca-Dence exists in solidarity, not on a pedestal.

The unified artistic vision that is largely a positive does, on the flipside, unfortunately mean that it has a few notable flaws. Its chief sin is a bait-and-switchy treatment of its two leads, which would be less of an issue if one were not a young girl and the other an older gruff man narratively empowered by her pain. It’s a mistake this kind of thing should be able to avoid, and that is primarily why it rounds out the bottom of the Top 5. So it goes.

Still, if Deca-Dence is any indication of what future Nut Co. productions, or those of director Yuzuru Tachikawa or writer Hiroshi Seko will be like, there’s a lot to look forward to.

#4: Kaguya-sama: Love is War?

For two years in a row; Kaguya-sama: Love is War! has been raising the bar for anime romcoms. What it may lack in innovation it more than makes up for in technique and heart, Love is War?, the confusingly-titled second season of the series, is top-to-bottom hilarious. Except of course, when it’s busy being surprisingly heavy instead.

It’s not entirely fair to put Love is War on a pedestal, but I really struggle to think of anything else in recent memory that works in this space so well. Original mangaka Aka Akasaka‘s technique of starting with a familiar archetype and then “filling them in” over the course of the story has kept Love is War‘s character writing consistently interesting. This holds true both when exploring the school-day trauma that Ishigami still suffers the aftershocks from and when breaking down the surprisingly complex character of the moralistic, blustery Miko.

But those are strengths equally attributable to the original manga. What puts Love is War the anime near the top of its bracket is the way the visuals elevate and enhance this storytelling. From a comedic perspective, the visuals breathe new life into jokes manga readers have heard before and really make them pop for newcomers. At times, new gags are even made up wholesale, often leaning on the visual element alone. Scenes like Kaguya randomly breaking into vogue, Hayasaka annoyedly bursting into Kaguya’s classroom, and even random visual asides referencing Dark Souls and Peanuts give the entire thing a wonderful, absurd edge.

On the more serious side, these techniques are instead turned toward invoking empathy. Faces have their visual features erased to signify disassociation, crowds coalesce into shadowy masses to project anxiety. Visual effect enthusiasts are given quite a bit to pour over in Love is War.

You might rightly ask why you should care about any of this, since at its core Love is War still is very much a “will they or won’t they” sort of love story. The sort that anime has seen many times before and will see many times again. To a point, that very question has kept it from an even higher spot on this list. But conversely, I would argue that resonant artistic depictions of the anxieties and absurdities of youth will never lose their place in the artistic canon. Not for anime, and not for anything.

#3: Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club

If this list were ranked solely by how much the anime on it made my heart sing, Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club would hold a comfortable #1 spot. Earlier this year I began an earnest dive into the girl group idol anime genre after only idly (haha) poking at it for most of my life. My opinion that 2011’s The Idolm@ster is the genre’s gold standard remains unchanged. But I did not expect it to receive an even close to worthy contender to the title this year. But here we are, and I do genuinely think that Nijigasaki High School Idol Club, the latest entry in the rival Love Live franchise, makes a damn good showing of it. Why? Because of the sheer effort the series go through to convey to you one simple fact; these girls are born entertainers, and they love it, through and through.

The ways in which they love it vary wildly, and if I had to pin a single weakness on Nijigasaki it would probably be that its gargantuan cast size (eleven main characters!) means that some of the girls do only get cursory development. The flipside though is that almost every single one who does get some focus is so magnetic that the passion they have for singing transfers almost directly to you. In its best moments, Nijigasaki feels like holding a live wire of artistic inspiration. Without a doubt; the anime is best experienced by checking any cynicism at the door and just throwing yourself in, arms wide open.

And part of the reason it succeeds is how easy it makes it to do that. Nijigasaki‘s great writing triumph is how quickly and snappily it establishes each character within each arc. Part of this is down to sharp visual design; things like Setsuna’s pyrotechnic stage setup, Rina’s iconic digital “faceboard”, Shizuku’s black and white dress, and so on. But the show’s laser focus when it comes to establishing why each girl wants to become an idol and how she goes about doing so is an incredibly convincing argument for this genre in this format, proving you don’t need two cours here. (Not to say an extra 13 episodes of this would’ve been in any way unwelcome.) The final arc, where group manager Yu and idol Ayumu have a near-falling out over the former’s desire to become a composer proves that the series can also work in more delicate emotional shades, which (as with many things this high on the list) makes me hope for a second season.

In a broader sense; from Setsuna’s matchstick strike of a guerrilla concert in episode three to the blazing monster of a festival that closes out the series, Nijigasaki High School Idol Club is a celebration of communal art and performance in a year where, to paraphrase music critic Todd Nathanson, the very idea may as well be science fiction. Being so fantastically escapist emphatically does not hurt Nijigasaki, it is the very core of its strength. What makes it wonderful is how it is borderline utopian; a vision of a place where everyone’s dreams come true.

#2: Tower of God

I try not to think about these kinds of things too much when I write, but I suspect if there’s a “controversial” pick this high up on the list, it’ll be this one. Tower of God stands as one of 2020’s most polarizing and, in my opinion, most misunderstood mainstream action anime. Tower of God is two primary things: for one, it is a kickass battle shonen set in a truly unique fantasy world inherited from its source material, a sprawling webcomic that effectively wrought the Webtoon movement from the ground with its bare hands. For another; it is an absolutely dialed critique of systems of arbitrary merit. If you’ve been waiting for me to bring up capitalism again, wait no longer. Frankly I don’t need to, Tower of God does it for me. It’s not like characters having to pay off their own medical expenses within the Tower is exactly a subtle analogy to real life.

Tower of God‘s attitude towards its source material–adapt the interesting or the relevant bits, skip everything else–can definitely leave it feeling a touch hard to follow at times. But Tower of God makes its intentions clear in its final few episodes, where deuteragonist Rachel does exactly as the Tower incentivizes her to, and betrays protagonist Twenty-fifth Bam. And why wouldn’t she? Every detail of the Tower’s worldbuilding portrays it as a ruthless meritocracy where only looking out for #1 at the expense of everyone else is rewarded. Bam never understands this because he never has to. His natural talents; his vast reservoirs of shinsu (mana, effectively) and propensity for making allies, are rewarded in a place he has been deposited into by what is more or less random chance. Essentially, he’s privileged. Rachel, who has no such talents, understands it intuitively, hence her betrayal.

But Tower of God‘s critique of these systems goes both wider and deeper. It’s foreshadowed much earlier by minor character Hoh betraying his team during the “Tag arc” that takes up the show’s middle third. Elsewhere, the series touches on misogyny (there is something truly–and intentionally!–offputting about how it’s spelled out to us that the King of Jahad ties the powers of his “princesses” to their virginity) and frame-ups (whatever happened with Khun and his sister). Through it all, its central point remains sharp; the Tower’s world is fantastical, but the principles it operates on are very much like our own.

It is true that the show’s setup basically begs for a second season, one that’s yet to be confirmed. But even if it were to end here, with Bam washed down to the bottom of the Tower, the show has made its point. All of us are climbing, and the Tower still waits.

So with how high my opinion of Tower of God clearly is, what could possibly be better than it? Well, if you know my tastes, or indeed if you’ve simply studied the banner closely, you can probably guess. Scroll down to find out, and raise a hand if you saw this one coming.

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#1: Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

Fundamentally, my taste in anime hasn’t changed much since I first discovered the medium over ten years ago. I have a hazy, sun-blurred memory of watching the dub of foundational school life comedy Azumanga Daioh chopped up into pieces and uploaded on Youtube. Azumanga Daioh and Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! are, very loosely, in the same genre, despite otherwise not being particularly similar. I bring the former up because I marvel at the many strange and wonderful shapes the school life comedy has taken over the past decade and a half. And Eizouken! certainly has the hallmarks of the genre. It is set primarily in a high school, centers around the activities of a small group of students, and uses the pitfalls of coming of age to set up relatable comedic skits. But it’s also more than that.

I place Eizouken! firmly in an emerging movement of anime that increasingly combine this genre with more serious and reflective elements, a logical step from its origins. (It’s not like AzuDaioh couldn’t be reflective when it wanted to be, after all.) I would happily shuttle it right up next to the post-apocalyptic melancholia of Girls’ Last Tour, or the contemporary but more adventure-oriented A Place Further Than The Universe, my own favorite anime of the 2010s, or the funny, wrenching dramedy of O’ Maidens In Your Savage Season! But its place within that movement is interesting, because while many of its genrefellows seek to perhaps evolve past the school life descriptor entirely, Eizouken! reestablishes why it matters in the first place. How it does this is pretty simple; it has perhaps the most well-considered thematic core of any TV anime to air this year.

History will probably peg Eizouken! as an “anime about anime”, but that’s looking at it narrowly. Eizouken! is an anime about the creative process in general, about what it means to be passionate about something, about turning that passion into reality, how that can be very hard, but how it is almost always worth it.

Our three leads correspond to an aspect of the inner world of art. Midori Asakusa, short, behatted, and kappa-like, is the pure ambition and the font of ideas. She spends the series half-adrift in a sea of drawings and daydreams, in love with flying machines and walking logos. Tsubame Mizusaki, of average height and with a sharp haircut, is the strive toward the perfection of technique, the desire to capture One Perfect Movement as cleanly as possible. (This is why it is she who expresses that she cares about animation, not anime. Contrast Midori who cares very much about anime-the-medium.) Finally, there is the tall, tombstone-toothed Sayaka Kanamori. The brains of the operation, someone for whom practical knowledge and the pursuit of money is a means to her and her friends’ collective happiness, a sort of person vanishingly rare in the real world. Alone, they’re incomplete. Together, they’re unstoppable. I’ve seen many anime whose casts compliment each other well, but Eizouken! might have one of the most well-oiled character dynamic machines in recent memory.

Eizouken!‘s beauty is in how it does not need to really explain itself at length. The series is an argument for itself. The skeptical may be inclined to ask the question back at Eizouken!; “what can sticking to your passions really accomplish?” And, well, the answer is Eizouken! Admittedly, as someone who writes for a living, I am predisposed to like themes in this general realm. But by the same token, pretending that Eizouken!‘s deep understanding of how the creative process functions, the diversity of motivation as to why people want to make art, and its celebration of the two didn’t move me would be disingenuous. I would simply not be doing my job as a commentator on the medium.

The show celebrates many kinds of people in general, really. Sometimes this is even surprisingly literal; Eizouken! stands as a still-rare anime that has a fairly racially diverse cast even though its leads are still Japanese. The series’ near-future setting seems to imply both a Japan and a larger world that is more heterogeneous (in every sense) than today, but this optimism shouldn’t be taken to be naivety. There is conflict in Eizouken!, the optimism comes from the resolution of that conflict. Short films are premiered, audiences are blown away. “We are all different, but truly great art can bring us together” seems to be the final message of the series. It’s a thesis that is so optimistic, almost utopian, that it can, to some, scan as corny. Whether Eizouken! “earns it” or not is where people are split on the series, but I think I’ve made damn well my case that it does.

Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! premiered at the top of the year, in the Winter 2020 anime season that now feels a lifetime ago. Yet, throughout this long, dark, bizarre year, I found myself continually turning it over in my head. I think it’s likely that I will be for years to come. If I may make take back one thing from my original review that predates this blog, it’s this; Eizouken!, with the benefit of distance, feels like it’s not really from this, or any, specific year. It feels like it’s always been there. And from now on, it always will be.

And with that sign-off by way of what is in my estimation the first truly great anime of the ’20s, that concludes our little journey over these past few days. To both old friends and new readers, I wish you the best possible in the new year. Hold each other close, and in all things help one another. Magic Planet Anime will see you in 2021.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Reviews

Ranking Every 2020 Anime (That I Actually Finished), From Worst to Best – Part 3

The middle-top of the list, where we run into more things that I more like than don’t like but which may or may not have various caveats and so on and so forth. This was the hardest part to have anything interesting to say about, can you tell? As with Part 2, most of these shows could be arranged in any order and I’d have no real complaints. Honestly, plenty could also switch places with those in Part 2 as well. Perhaps I’m just too easy to please?

Make sure you hit up the Intro post if you’re new here, so you can read Parts 1 and 2 before this. Anyhow, on with the list.

#9: Kakushigoto

Months on from its ending, and I’m still not entirely sure what to make of Kakushigoto. (My opinion on it has admittedly muted a bit from when it ended and I originally reviewed it, though not by too much.) Two shows for the price of one, is one way to look at it. On the outside, Kakushigoto is a goofy slice of life comedy about a bumbling father who draws dirty gag manga for a living and is absolutely desperate to keep his young daughter from learning that fact. On the inside, it’s an oddly melancholy examination of what we lose when we grow up. Somewhere in there is a pretty compelling defense of manga as a medium itself. There’s a lot going on here, and not all of it works.

So what does work? Well, the comedy in this thing is mostly pretty damn funny. There are a few notable places where it’s really not (a bizarre Desi stereotype character being the most egregious) but in general when Kakushigoto sticks to the inherently amusing dynamic between Kakushi (the aforementioned father) and Hime (the daughter) it’s really charming and hilarious. A lot of the bits here are standard slice of life fare bent just enough by the father/daughter relationship to feel fresh again. Some–such as Kakushi’s ongoing feud with an annoying editor–rely a bit more on industry inside baseball, but those are generally pretty good too.

And then there’s the frame story, which is in many ways a different beast entirely, and deals with Hime at age sixteen, after her father has, as we eventually find out, suffered an accident that renders him amnesiac. With the benefit of hindsight I think Kakushigoto would’ve benefited from leaning more into this side of its story. (And there’s a theatrical recut of the series scheduled to premiere next year, so perhaps it eventually will.) In its best moments, the frame story taps into a universal, melancholic summertime nostalgia, and if I seem to have less than might be expected to say on Kakushigoto it’s only because that kind of ephemerality speaks for itself. There’s a lot to like about a series that revolves around familial ties and the passing of the artistic torch from one generation to the next. And Kakushigoto also certainly holds a special place for having perhaps the most memorable ED of the year. Putting an entire generation onto Japanese pop godfather Eiichi Ohtaki is no small feat.

#8: Assault Lily Bouquet

Assault Lily Bouquet is a lot of things. It’s kind of a mess, for one. For another, it’s an entry in a sub-strain of the battle girl genre with some not-entirely-flattering unifying characteristics. Like Katana Maidens, The Girl in Twilight, and Granbelm before it, Assault Lily Bouquet leans heavily on proper nouns and invented terminology. It is extremely coy, often directly toying with audience expectations, sometimes to its own detriment. It’s also stuffed to the gills with tonal back-and-forth, often yoyoing between the comedic, the tense, the saucy, and the genuinely romantic at the drop of a hat. This all could rightly be called a lack of focus. There is indeed a part of me that intensely wanted to dismiss Assault Lily Bouquet as a series that didn’t know what it wanted to do and wouldn’t know how to do it if it did. To a very limited extent, I actually still kind of think that’s true.

Some of this isn’t the fault of the anime itself. Picking up a pre-premiere hype train comes with a lot of expectations. That Assault Lily Bouquet picked up the nickname “SHAFTogear” off the strength of just some teaser trailers may well have put it at an unfair disadvantage. Indeed, Symphogear this is not. (It is an obvious acolyte of that series, but that’s the norm for the genre nowadays.) If you’re inclined to drop an anime off the back of things like a surface-level ridiculousness and the aforementioned lack of focus, Assault Lily Bouquet will not make it difficult for you to do that.

But, here’s the thing. Two things, even. First; Assault Lily Bouquet has some of the best single episodes of the year, from a long, summer-drenched slow-burner centering around ramune soda to a peppy uptempo miniature school festival arc, the series is definitely at its best when it channels all of its energy into doing one specific thing. Second; there’s the finale.

Assault Lily Bouquet‘s overarching plot is….strange. It’s mostly delivered in fairly dry expository dialogue between four characters who otherwise don’t matter much. As mentioned, it leans really heavily on a lot of corny terminology. (Terrible idea; make a drinking game based on how often the phrase “Rare Skill” is used. You’ll be out like a light by episode four.) And what exactly it’s trying to say is fairly inscrutable until the very end of the series. Assault Lily Bouquet‘s core thesis is an unfortunate combination of under-articulated for most of the series and unusually complicated.

In general, the show explores shades of love, loss, feelings of inadequacy, how they might be overcome, etc. How people move on from relationships that have been broken and how they form new ones from the ashes of the old. Along the way, it briefly touches on how male-dominated infrastructures fear powerful women, militarism, and even environmentalism. To say you have to squint to see a lot of this is putting it mildly, Assault Lily Bouquet is maybe the most tongue-tied anime of 2020.

Still, at the end of the day it’s just really hard for me to dislike an anime that ends with two girls in love fighting a giant monster. Has it done before? Yes. Will it be done again? Certainly. But as the battle girl genre continues to grow and multiply, I find myself compelled to defend basically every one of them, because I really do just love them all that much. It’s perhaps my favorite modern genre of TV anime.

Time will tell what, if anything, is in store for the future of Assault Lily Bouquet. The success of the wider Assault Lily franchise which started life as the rare modern TV cartoon directly based on a toyline and now includes this anime, a manga, and a mobile game is probably what will dictate if we ever see Riri and Yuyu again. But I hope we do, Bouquet can dress it up in terms like “Schutzengel” and “Schild” to duck conservative watchdogs and add an air of chuuni-ness to things all it wants, but I know a power couple when I see one.

#7: Sleepy Princess in The Demon Castle

Sometimes, all a comedy anime needs to succeed is to take a truly silly premise and run with it. Thus is the case with Sleepy Princess in The Demon Castle, one of the year’s premiere entries in a sort-of genre I like to call “idiots in a jar”. In an “idiots in a jar” series, all you need is some exceptionally dense characters and a reason for them to interact. Sleepy Princess has the titular princess, the Demon King who’s kidnapped her and is imprisoning her in his castle, and the latter’s horde of minions. And the reason? Well, hostage she might be, but our heroine needs a good night’s sleep. Preferably a fantastic night’s sleep, since there’s not much else to do in the Demon Castle.

And the rest….just sort of flows out from there. The specific parody fantasyland that Sleepy Princess takes place in has in many ways become a sort of cliche setting in its own right nowadays, and comedy anime like this have become more common than the action fantasy anime they once spoofed. Yet, Sleepy Princess‘s implacable-yet-lazy lead works well with its silly and often surprisingly inventive fantasy world. From monsters like Quilladillo and a man made of scissors to item designs that would fit in only the silliest D&D campaign, Sleepy Princess has a knack for invoking its fantasy trappings precisely when they add an extra kick to the joke. All this makes it stand out above many recent anime that are trying to do similar things. And it all feels very well-crafted and deliberate.

There’s also a certain coziness to the series, fitting for an anime about sleep. The Princess’ relationship to her ostensible captors grows closer over its twelve episodes, capping with the finale, which is open enough to leave the prospect of a second season tantalizingly probable. In fact, as far as shows that are simple, warm joy from start to finish, Sleepy Princess really only has one contender from 2020….

#6: My Next Life As A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

My Next Life As A Villainess is a magic trick. It’s an isekai series, it’s a harem series, and it’s one of the many 2020 anime that are a blast to speed through in a few evenings. Even having seen it, Villainess (also known semi-officially as OtomeFlag and Bakarina. This is the series with the most titles on the list, certainly) doesn’t feel like it should work. Die-and-reincarnate isekai premises are, appropriately, done to death, and the harem genre has arguably never had a good reputation. Yet, by simple virtue of having a likable female lead, and the small-stakes character writing victories that follow, Villainess manages to turn lead into gold. (And its maddeningly catchy, genre-unto-itself opening theme doesn’t hurt.)

The anime centers around the titular Katarina Claes and her life after she’s reborn into the world of an Otome game. This would be easy to milk for cheap drama, but Villainess is unconcerned with such things. Instead, to avoid the fate of her game counterpart, Katarina aims to be the nicest person possible. By dint of just being an irrepressible ray of sunshine, every single one of her game equivalent’s rivals end up falling for her. As a result; Claes can certainly claim the largest bisexual harem of any anime protagonist of the past year.

What takes Villainess beyond being just cute is a running through-line about relationships that persist across lifetimes. The show heavily hints at, and eventually outright reveals, that Katarina’s friend (and one of the many, many people crushing hard on her) Sophia is herself the reincarnation of one of Katarina’s classmates and close friends. Is this entire subplot super sappy? Absolutely, but I’m a sucker for this stuff, “I Entered A Dangerous Dungeon….”, in which we learn of Sophia and Katarina’s past relationship was one of my favorite episodes of the year, and sticks with me even now.

And I wasn’t the only one so taken with the show, evidently. A second season has been definitively confirmed to be on the way. My hope? Only that Katarina continues breaking the harem genre over her knee like a twig.

That’s all for the (slightly abbreviated) Part 3. See you tomorrow for the Top 5 in Part 4!

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Reviews

Ranking Every 2020 Anime (That I Actually Finished), From Worst to Best – Part 2

The middle parts of a list are always the weirdest ones to figure out. Not hardest, that’s the very top, but the weirdest, definitely. Because you end up asking yourself to compare shows that are incredibly dissimilar and that you like about equally. By the way; if you’re new here, you’ll want to check out the Introduction first, and read Part 1 before hitting this up.

Frankly, every entry on this part of the list could probably be freely swapped with each other and I’d have very few complaints. Still, all of these anime are ones that I think did more right than wrong and in some cases I think they did a few specific things very well. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?

#14: Wave, Listen To Me!

Whatever else you may say about it, never accuse Wave, Listen To Me! of following trends. Very briefly, Wave is about a loud-mouthed restaurant worker who ends up getting her own graveyard-shift radio show hosting gig at the local station. Without a doubt, it’s one of the more singular premises of the year.

Does it live up to the potential in that premise? Well, yes and no. Like its seasonal contemporary Gleipnir, Wave has a tendency to get in its own way. When the series allows Minare, our heroine, to do her job and let loose with the full force of her personality in the radio booth, it’s amazing. Lead voice actress Riho Sugiyama is as important to Wave‘s general composition as anyone else, and with an actress less capable of fully embodying Minare’s spirit the show would fall apart.

So it’s rather frustrating that it sometimes does anyway. Much of Wave is about Minare’s off-air life. Sometimes these stories work and sometimes they don’t, generally following the pattern that whenever Minare feels like the butt of a joke, they’re not very good. Making things worse is an abundance of off-color-in-a-bad-way humor, most notably about a half-dozen gay jokes that feel woefully forced. Wave is perhaps the anime from 2020 that I’m the most internally divided on. Its highs are high, its lows are low. It ends on a pretty good note, and I’m hoping against hope for a followup. I’d like to see Minare given the opportunity to do more.

#13: BRAND NEW ANIMAL

This was the first of several anime on this list where I had the visceral reaction of “wait, that aired this year?” But yes, this Yoh Yoshinari-directed, Kazuki Nakashima-written synthwave-colored furry urban fantasy series was a product of 2020. BRAND NEW ANIMAL occupies a weird place on this list, in the wider cultural zeitgeist, and for me personally. I actually really quite liked this show, so why isn’t it higher on the list?

Well, to a point, most of Nakashima’s anime scripts are….well, “similar” would be the generous way of putting it. Most of his scripts center around ideological conflicts between the individualistic and the communal and tend to end with both sides coming together to fight a common foe. That last bit has often (and not incorrectly) been flagged as a weakness, with his scripts’ formulaic story beats, and a corresponding lack of nuance, as the other main problem. These are fair criticisms, but I’d argue that what Nakashima’s writing lacks in its ability to propose solutions the world’s problems more specific than “come together”, it makes up for in its faith that we, in fact, can come together.

But of course Nakashima is a scriptwriter and an anime’s script is nothing without, well, the anime. Yoshinari and his team turn in an aesthetic feast with BRAND NEW ANIMAL. I mentioned synthwave earlier, but the blue and pink shadows often do bring that specific subgenre to mind. The fluid, popping animation that defines the best parts of the TRIGGER back-catalog and, because of the distinctly fuzzy cast, a wonderful array of animal-person designs are present too, they really tie the whole thing together.

Ultimately I suppose my main issue with BRAND NEW ANIMAL is simply that it isn’t either a bit longer or a bit more focused. For how clumsy it occasionally is, BNA does sometimes step into surprisingly sharp social commentary (“Dolphin Daydream”‘s jabs at fairweather allies and the harm they cause sticks out most clearly to me), but just as often its swings go wide. It’s an uneven experience, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it the whole way through and would instantly hop on any further material in the show’s universe.

In lieu of that….maybe greenlight two cours next time? Please?

#12: Dorohedoro

You know what I’ve always thought was an underrated quality? Knowing exactly what you want to do and just doing it. That’s about how I’d describe Dorohedoro, an adaption of Q. Hayashida‘s long-running bizarro seinen. It’s one of the better things Netflix has thrown money at in 2020 (other highlights include listfellow BRAND NEW ANIMAL and The Great Pretender, which is only not here because I haven’t watched the final arc), but much more importantly it’s a really good piece of genre fiction in a genre that doesn’t get a lot of rep in mainstream TV anime.

And that genre is….weird splatterpunk grungy fantasy I guess? If Dorohedoro feels hard to put in a box it’s only because seinen anime are fairly rare. But there’s still definitely something unique about a series whose main selling point is that it’s the adventures of a big lizard-headed guy on a quest to find out who turned him into a big lizard-headed guy, and his companion, an equally-buff woman who’s also a master gyoza chef.

Dorohedoro cruises by on its stylish ultraviolence, colorful cast, and its truly weird setting. The only real reason it’s not higher up on the list is that the manga is even stranger and the anime adapts only a pretty small part of it. Dorohedoro is an anime with basically no problems, but its strengths only go so far. It’s definitely worth checking out, but make sure you hit up the source material at some point, too.

#11: Princess Connect! Re:Dive

Breaking news: local action-comedy-fantasy isekai Princess Connect! Re:Dive makes the rest of those obsolete; KonoSuba found weeping in a trashed hotel room. OK, that’s a wild exaggeration, but you have to give it up for something as unassuming as PriConne managing to do so much with so little. This is a series in which the main character is effectively mute, and he still has more personality than your average Protagonist-kun.

I don’t think anyone would deign to call PriConne laser-focused, exactly, but the unifying element, weirdly enough, is cooking. Female lead and secret actual protagonist Princess Pecorine’s food obsession provides a tie-line through the series. It’s more than just comedic (though it’s certainly that, too), as the comfort of a shared meal comes to represent the family ties that Pecorine has lost. The other two primary protagonists have their own things going on, with Karyl’s secret double-agent status being the runner up as far as which is most interesting.

Did I mention this thing looks great, too? That’s not always a given for seasonals, although mobage adaptions seem to have slightly better luck than most. Princess Connect! Re:Dive features some of the most purely flashy animation of the entire year. Something that is downright impressive for a series that really did kinda seem to come from nowhere.

Honestly the only reason it isn’t even higher on the list is because of its fairly limited ambitions, which is really only a flaw in the most abstract sense. And with a second season on the way that seems poised to put focus on the dimension-spanning plot that lurks in PriConne’s background, it may not remain a criticism that’s true for very long. Don’t be surprised if this thing’s second season ends up a good five or ten places higher next year.

#10: Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Gaiden

Yeah, this is another one that feels like it aired a lifetime ago.

Magia Record is a curious thing that seems like it was made for nobody. But I actually think, in this odd little anime’s case, that that’s not just a positive, but most of the reason it’s good. Magia Record is a spinoff / possibly-a-sequel-it’s-kind-of-hard-to-say of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, one of the most important, widely acclaimed, and successful anime of the 2010s. To say it has big shoes to fill would be a massive understatement. Indeed, MagiReco entered to no small amount of skepticism. Being a spinoff of a spinoff (it’s based on a mobile game), a lot of folks were of the opinion that the series was little more than a soulless, hollow cash-grab. But if Magia Record is a cash grab, it’s a fucking weird one.

In fairly sharp contrast to its illustrious predecessor, Magia Record explores some four or five largely unrelated miniature arcs over the course of its run. (Almost all of which concern various supernatural rumors. Something the series seems to have inherited from a different SHAFT property; Bakemonogatari.) This structure is deeply interesting to me, because it seems to me that Magia Record is of the opinion that Madoka Magica’s intangibles; its themes, aesthetics, the way it explores its parent genre, and so on have been so thoroughly strip-mined by other anime that engaging with them is no longer a goal it wants to pursue. Instead, Magia Record seems to treat itself first and foremost as a vehicle for expanding the pure text of the Madoka series. It’s a book of “Madoka stories” before it’s anything else.

When familiar elements do show up, the context is altered, strange, and unfamiliar. Not unlike what the original Madoka did with many trappings of the magical warrior subgenre in the first place. The original Puella Magi are the most obvious example; Mami reappears, but as a villain. Kyoko dips in and out of the show’s narrative, and is markedly absent for the finale. Sayaka is only present for the finale. Madoka herself appears only in a brief flashback. Homura is not even mentioned; a ghost among ghosts.

So those “Madoka stories”, where Magia Record seems most like a “normal” magical girl series, become the show’s lifeblood. They definitely have their ups and downs, and the best of the lot are front-loaded. (Rena’s arc, an examination of a truly deep-seated self-loathing, might be the overall peak of the series.) But that it is so disconnected from what the fanbase in general “wants” from a Madoka series is absolutely fascinating to me, and I like it for that reason. This interpretation of MagiReco is controversial (I have seen many who simply read its structure as inept), but I stand by it. A second season is in the wings that promises a return to a broader, overarching narrative. More than any other anime on this list, I have absolutely no idea what to expect from MagiReco, and I love it for that.

And that’s humble Part 2. Tomorrow we get into the top ten, uh, nine, so I’ll see you then for Part 3.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Reviews

Ranking Every 2020 Anime (That I Actually Finished), From Worst to Best – Part 1

It’s always a weird thing to have to write about why you didn’t like something. I’m a big believer in the idea that positive criticism is both more important and more difficult than negative. Yet, the format of the list means that we’re starting with several anime that I consider the very worst of the year (and indeed these first two entries are….not what I’d call favorites, we’ll put it that way). It admittedly makes me a bit nervous, because negativity is not my preferred mode of criticism.

Yet, at the same time. I think that even bad anime can expand one’s frame of reference and provide interesting insights into the medium in general. My hope is that this first part of the list does the same for you.

#20: The Day I Became A God

As I write this, it’s been about half an hour since I finished The Day I Became A God. This is the second-to-last anime I needed to finish for this list (the entire thing, all four parts), and I really, genuinely did not think I’d be adding something this far down this late in the game. I have to rewrite the opening sentence of my next entry, which in its current draft now-falsely claims that it is the only anime on this list to make me genuinely angry. That’s no longer true! Frankly, The Day I Became A God‘s final three episodes are so far and away the worst television period that I have watched this year that it’s made me see every subsequent entry on this list in a better light.

To talk about the latest from Jun Maeda and his colleagues at Key, we need to talk about how it starts. Because understanding how The Day I Became A God transforms from a pretty solid slice of life comedy with a supernatural edge into one of the most galling, maudlin, hacky attempts at a make-you-cri-everytiem love story that I have ever seen requires understanding how we got here. Or rather how we didn’t.

The Day I Became A God concerns Hina, alias Odin. It feels like a lifetime ago that the character was introduced to us as a blithe esper with the power to know anything. The first two thirds of the series chiefly concern her adventures with Youta, the inoffensively bland everydude protagonist. They do fun things like cheat at mahjong and help a ramen restaurant turn its fortunes around. It’s hardly groundbreaking, but it’s good fun, and if that were what we were discussing here this series would be assured a comfortable spot somewhere in this list’s mid-section with all the other solid genre anime.

Jun Maeda’s signature as a writer–so I’m told, anyway–is to build up the relationship between the characters and you, the audience, with this kind of every day life fun. Then, near the series’ end, some sort of Sword of Damocles will drop, the drama will hit, and tears will flow. Indeed, I knew this going in to The Day I Became A God, and am familiar with the device from the only other work of his I’ve seen–Angel Beats!, an anime I actually like quite a lot. The show even appears to foreshadow this; the anime’s other core premise is that Hina can sense that the world will end in thirty days.

So, fair play, right? Why am I mad?

If only this show dealt with something as interesting as apocalypse. Instead, for its final third, through a series of plot contortions so mind-bogglingly ridiculous that I will not recount them here, Hina is abducted by a shadowy government organization and has the source of her powers, a machine in her brain, removed. It’s revealed to us that, actually, Hina was severely physically and mentally disabled this entire time. (Because of a fictional Anime Illness, of course. God forbid you give your disabled characters any actual condition.) It was only the sci-fi magic of the machine that was allowing her to do what she did with Youta and friends, in addition to being the source of her omniscience. Are you crying yet?

The Day I Became A God‘s final three episodes are not just bad, they’re slimy. I actively felt repulsed by 11 and 12 especially. I absolutely loathe calling things “cringey”, but I physically winced at the screen during scenes in which (through another series of plot contortions) Youta, woefully-unqualified, tries to return her to his home where she lived for most of the series by posing as a physical therapist. These episodes go through great pains to portray Hina as pitiable because she is largely nonverbal and physically handicapped. In a particularly insidious twist, the show frames Youta’s generally ridiculous actions as being somehow, secretly, what Hina “wants”. It is a framing that cannot help but feel gross, ableist, and exploitative.

The finale, in which her actual doctor lets her return with Youta and the gang watches a student film they shot during the series’ first half (pointedly, when Hina was still verbal and able-bodied), feels like having this nonsense rubbed in your face. One has to go back a solid ten years, to 2010’s Occult Academy, to find a series that suffers a drop in writing quality this precipitous in its final 90 minutes. Even then, I think this example is genuinely worse.

I am left to wonder; who is this for? I make no secret of the fact that I am a massive sap, but the tearful reunions in the final episode of The Day I Became A God did absolutely nothing for me. My eyes remained dry, my fingers drummed in irritation on my desk, and I could only feel relief that the show was over.

Maeda has said he intended to create “the saddest anime ever” with this series. The only thing he succeeded at was making one that is profoundly frustrating, disappointing, objectionable, and, frankly, insulting to its audience. I considered cutting this series some slack with its placement here; after all, those first two thirds do still exist. But I actually think that they make the finale even worse. By the end of The Day I Became A God, all of my goodwill and any endearment I felt toward any of its characters had been sandblasted away by one of the most colossally inept TV anime endings in recent memory. All involved can–and should–do better.

#19: Sing “Yesterday” For Me

The operative word for Sing “Yesterday” For Me is “unfortunate”. This is another one with a promising start that slowly careens into an unsatisfying finish. It’s not quite a worst-case scenario for adapting old material into new anime, but it’s close.

But let’s start with the positives, because despite what that sentiment might imply, I can easily imagine why people who aren’t me might like the series. “Yesterday”‘s earthy, grounded visual style and accompanying soundtrack give it an aesthetic sense that is a genuine treat. Plus, it helps make the show’s slow narrative go down more easily than it might otherwise. It also has its moments of self-awareness, such as in an episode about a photographer whose obsession with one of the female leads, high school girl Haru, parallels protagonist Uozumi’s own.

So what’s wrong with it? Nothing and everything.

“Yesterday”‘s entire premise rubs me the wrong way. What is markedly worse is that through no one’s fault but my own, it took me the entire length of the series to realize this. (You can find material on this very blog where I praise the series, in fact.) Saying I have something of an irrational grudge against this anime wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

“Yesterday” is ostensibly the story of the aforementioned Rikuo Uozumi, a young adult working a dead-end job, and two potential love interests; Haru Nonaka and a former classmate who is now a teacher, Shinako Morinome. To its credit, both Haru and Shinako feel like fully-fledged characters. While their relationship (or lack thereof) with Uozumi does dominate their arcs, it dominates the entire plot, so that only makes sense. The real issue is pretty simple; Uozumi is a college graduate, and while Shinako is his age, Haru is a narratively-convenient eighteen. After much hemming and hawwing over the course of the series, Uozumi and Haru kiss in the final episode. Roll credits.

Fundamentally, even if you don’t find age gaps creepy, the way Uozumi treats Haru until the closing fifteen or so minutes of the final episode gives every indication that he’s going to end up with Shinako, despite what is framed as a somewhat childish fixation on Haru. But if this were merely a case of bait-and-switch or of one’s preferred Best Girl not winning, it’d be a minor gripe at most. The back half of the show’s final episode throws everything the narrative has been building toward wildly out of whack. The series’ real, actual problem then, is that like so many romance anime, it ends where it should begin.

The idea of a college grad who is finally starting to pursue his photography dreams after waking up from the torpor of the layabout life while having to juggle a relationship with someone years younger than him is wildly interesting. It’s also arguably super weird, but that’s an angle a story can work with. Why does Sing “Yesterday” For Me take so long to get to what is by far the most interesting development in its story, and then just end?

There are no answers, at least none for me. I have spoken to others who enjoyed the series and a common view I find is that the series is about building up to lifechanging moments, to sudden pivot points from which there is no return. More power to the folks who can find it in them to read the series this way, but I cannot. Thinking back, I find myself craving a more properly developed drama. I can only consider “Yesterday” a disappointment.

#18: The God of High School

I’m genuinely not trying to be meanspirited with these first few entries, because I fully acknowledge that making any anime requires an immense amount of talent from many people all working in concert. It’s a process I could never be involved with and I do genuinely respect anyone in the industry grind, no matter what the end result is.

So with all that said; what on earth do you say about something like The God of High School? The God of High School is not really what I’d call a bad anime, and despite its abundance of hyper-compressed shonen cliche I’d say it’s still fun enough on a moment to moment basis. But it really is the sort of series that one struggles to describe not because it’s particularly inscrutable but because anything you could say about it also applies to many other, better-known (and just better) anime. For instance; I could tell you that it’s a tournament arc-heavy series where the protagonist lacks much characterization beyond a desire to fight and is loosely based on Sun Wukong, but you might then assume I’m talking about Dragon Ball Z. Other aspects of the series similarly feel so heavily indebted to its predecessors that saying anything positive (or even neutral) about it that couldn’t easily be mistaken as praise for Dragon Ball or Bleach or Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure or almost any other shonen series is extraordinarily difficult.

The issue is just that The God of High School feels very much like what it is, which is an animated adaption of a webcomic written by a shonen junkie. Consequently, while it’s fun in the places where it truly lets itself cut loose (such as the more out-there fight scenes), it feels dreadfully anonymous much of the rest of the time, and even when it is firing on all cylinders the breakneck pace of the adaption means it’s generally for only a couple minutes at a time. There are worse things to be than a decent way to burn six hours, but as it further recedes into the rearview I’ve come to realize I cannot imagine I’ll ever watch even a second of it again. And more than any other show on this list, I can even less imagine what a diehard fan of The God of High School would look like. If this is more indicative of the quality of what’s to be produced under the Crunchyroll Originals banner than a certain other Webtoon adaption that shows up elsewhere on this list, that is really not a great sign for future CR Original material. I would like to think it’s an outlier.

#17: 22/7

Maybe it’s unfair to call 22/7 disappointing. Yet, looking back on it a few months removed from its airing that’s the adjective that first springs to mind. 22/7 seemed poised to offer something interrogative and worthy of thought; early episodes gave the impression of building up to some kind of grand reveal, positioning the series as something of a would-be Madoka for the idol girl group anime genre. Whether through deliberate misdirection or just too-high expectations on some part of its audience, it never got there. Instead, as weeks stretched into months, it simply gradually ran out of steam until limping across the finish line at the end of its season.

Even setting that aside though, 22/7‘s command of character writing is pretty limited. Every character arc is hamstrung by the show’s bizarre editing, which likes to cut backward and forward, interweaving flashbacks with scenes of the present day. It seems likely that this is supposed to draw a deliberate contrast; how our idols got from where they were to where they are. Instead, it generally makes episodes thematically and tonally incoherent. Even the best of them (such as Jun’s focus episode) are often hamstrung by dicey writing. At its worst, as in episodes revolving around more minor and frankly less-interesting characters like Reika, it hauls in hoary sexist ideas of what an idol should be that feel stuck in the ’80s. It’s impossible to prove that these somehow stem from the involvement of industry oldguardsman Yasushi Akimoto, but his presence in the background of the series’ production does not incline me to charitable interpretations of the 22/7‘s flaws.

The show does have its positives, of course. It’s generally nicely-animated and sometimes well-directed, especially in the case of the aforementioned Jun episode, and it has solid character interactions even if the arcs are not particularly strong. But I think if 22/7 the series survives in the collective cultural conscience at all, it won’t be through the lens of the show itself. 22/7 is also an actual idol group, and their music ranges from solid to, at its best, fantastic. The melodramatic cloud of black smoke they turned in for the show’s opening theme–a cheery number about how life is hard and no one understands each other called “Muzui” or “It’s Difficult”–remains one of my favorite pop songs of 2020, and I found myself returning to it many times over the course of this difficult year. Far more time than I ever spent appreciating the series it’s a theme to. 22/7 the group have a bright future. 22/7 the anime is best left in the past.

#16: Burn The Witch

Burn The Witch is a weird one, for one several reasons. It’s not a TV series, for one thing (the only such entry on this list), and it’s in the odd position of being the adaption of just the first few chapters of its source material. Something that would likely have never happened were the writer of said source material not Tite Kubo. The man most famous for the polarizing–but undeniably very successful–Bleach. Burn The Witch has a lot of things going for it. It’s animated by Studio Colorido, and being made as a three-episode special means that it’s never less than great to look at, and the fights in particular here are superb. The worldbuilding is goofy but in a fun sort of way; you know that things are off to a good start when we get a made-up statistic about dragon-related deaths in London right off the top. Our two protagonists, Noel and Ninny, are also quite fun to follow, each in their own way. Even the show’s magic system is a good time, more anime could stand to experiment with goofy horn-guns as their weapons of choice.

So all that said, why isn’t this higher up (or, well, lower down, one supposes) on the list? Well, not to repeat myself, but Burn The Witch has a man-shaped millstone hanging around its neck.

It’s really hard to overstate how much of a problem male lead Balgo Parks is, as a character. He’s sexist, he’s obnoxious and he’s everywhere. He completely kills the fun any time he’s on-screen, and he’s on-screen all the time. It’s a terrible, terrible problem for an otherwise solid OVA to have, because every second he’s there he’s cutting into the actually enjoyable parts of it, and ultimately, he ruins it. Time will tell if this applies to any further adaptions of Burn The Witch we get (and it’d be surprising if we didn’t get at least a season or two of a TV series), but I certainly hope it doesn’t.

#15: Gleipnir

Grisly, grody, sometimes flat-out exploitative seinen adaption that’s a mess from top to bottom. I feel like if I were a more “respectable” commentator on the medium I’d hate this show. But I’m not, so I don’t. I wouldn’t say I like it either, exactly, but it’s definitely the entry in this part of the list I have the most nice things to say about.

Gleipnir‘s been a part of my life for an unusually long time compared to the rest of the entries on this list. I first read the manga (which I markedly did not care for) back in 2017. When I heard of an anime adaption premiering this year I was curious to see if it’d be improved at all by the change in medium, and, admittedly, I was hoping that if it didn’t, it’d at least be a fun thing to riff on with friends.

To a point, that is exactly what I got. Gleipnir‘s idiosyncrasies too often fall on the bad side of good taste for me to really call it great. There are too many offputting shots of the show’s female lead in her underwear covered in fluid, weird problematic or just straight-up uncomfortable elements (a centipede demon from the show’s 2/3rds mark springs to mind as an example) for that to be the case. And its male lead is the kind of shonen-protagonist-but-edgier that just doesn’t leave you with a ton to work with most of the time.

But nonetheless, there’s just something about this series. Maybe it’s the surprisingly good action direction and atmosphere, which is certainly a credit to both director Kazuhiro Yoneda and his team at PINE JAM in general. The man has episode direction credits on the grandfather of 2010s trainwreck anime; Code Geass R2. While I can’t prove that the experience somehow uniquely equipped him to deal with Gleipnir‘s ridiculously up and down source material, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Over the course of its single cour Gleipnir manages to, in spots, eke out some surprisingly affecting character writing, has a downright haunting final few episodes, and, as mentioned, some great fight scenes. An example in the final episode might still be one of my favorites of the year as it unites both the show’s literal reality and its thematic core of relying on others to compensate for your weaknesses and confronting your demons in a way that it otherwise struggles to articulate. Gleipnir‘s central issue is its tendency to get in its own way, but that’s hardly a rare problem for the medium.

I don’t know if a second season would fix (or even mitigate) that problem, but Gleipnir is the only anime in this part of the list where if one were released I’d be interested in watching it. That must count for something, surely.

And thus we finish the “unpleasant but necessary” part of the list. Still, even among these unlucky few there is not a single one among them I actually regret watching, not even The Day I Became A God. I have said many times that part of what draws me to anime as a medium is its infinite capacity for surprise. That surprise is not always pleasant! But you take the bad with the good.

Speaking of the good, I will see you in Part 2 when it goes live. Happy Holidays!

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Other Posts, Reviews

(REVIEW) RURU’S SUICIDE SHOW ON A LIVESTREAM

How the hell do you review a music video? Even as someone who really loves animated music videos, it seems impossible, and before I saw the MV accompanying Shinsei Kamattechan’s “Ruru’s Suicide Show On a Livestream” I’d have had no motivation to try. Yet, like many commentators on the arts, I have a weakness for taking wild swings at the zeitgeist. Sometimes, even if only for yourself, you come across a singular piece of art that seems to just click things into place. Seems to “get it” in a way that most do not. The “Ruru’s Suicide Show” MV premiered all the way back in early January, just eight days into what would become what is unquestionably the darkest year for the world-at-large that I have ever lived through. 2020 finally winds down in just over a month as I’m penning this, and I think I can safely say that somehow, no other anime anything this year captured the unique mixture of toxic, spiraling misery, delirious, denialistic euphoria, and the tragic endpoint of both quite like this song and this video.

All of this, I must imagine, is very much accidental. Perhaps it’s unique to me, even, and given that the video with its scant runtime of just four minutes sits atop this article, perhaps you’ve watched the whole thing and are feeling very confused as to what I’m on about. But, as I write this the video sits at over fourteen million views, far more than any other music video ever associated with a Shinsei Kamattechan song. It makes sense; the band are immensely talented and wildly creative, but they’re definitely niche despite being signed to a major label (Warner Japan, via their Unbonde sublabel). Lead vocalist Noko is an acquired taste, (I’m not even sure if that’s them on “Ruru’s Suicide Show”. It doesn’t entirely sound like them, but their voice is very flexible, so who knows.) and the band in general are no one’s idea of a shiny-polished pop group.

“Ruru’s Suicide Show” itself is the kind of song whose utility is difficult to put into words. It is based, albeit only loosely, on a very real tragedy involving a young girl named Roro that occurred some seven years ago*, which can make it seem odd, possibly even exploitative, to the uninitiated. More broadly, it taps into a long lineage of Japanese rock that I’m frankly a little unqualified to explore in-depth. (And it’s beyond the scope of this article anyway.) On a surface level, it isn’t hard to understand why a song about suicide would resonate in a particularly bleak year for the world, but I think dissecting our opening question of why specifically this requires digging a bit deeper than that.

Songs that are simply sad are one thing, “Ruru’s Suicide Show”‘s “trick”, such as it is, is relatively simple. Despite its bleak subject matter it is sonically upbeat. However, most songs like this rely on simple lyrical dissonance, the classic example over here in the US being OutKast’s “Hey Ya” (which itself is merely about heartbreak). “Ruru’s Suicide Show” goes well beyond that. Its relentlessly upbeat sound is pushed into the proverbial red, becoming first disquieting, then almost a kind of confrontational, and finally cathartic. “Ruru’s Suicide Show” is not a song for people who need a pick-me-up, it is a song one listens to so that they know that they aren’t the only person in the world who’s ever suffered like this. And whether or not “Ruru’s Suicide Show” is the sort of music that resonates with you can be correlated pretty well to whether you know what I mean when I say “like this.” It is a song for a very specific sort of person. That a major label–even an ‘indie’-focused subsidiary of one–would bankroll a video for this thing is nothing short of astounding.

And yet, there it sits. Fourteen million views and counting throughout the course of just one calendar year. Some of that popularity (like with many things nowadays) can be thanked to / blamed on TikTok, where the song caught on as something of a minor meme of all things. But while that might account for an initial spike in popularity it does not account for its continued success. And indeed if one visits the video’s comments section it is mostly people (fairly young ones, is my impression) defending the song, the video, the late Roro herself, and so on from being appropriated as a fad / fandom / meme / whatever term you care to use. These users, to whom the song clearly means as much as it does to me, demand that it, and its subject, be treated with respect.

I think some of this broad resonance may have to do with the elephant in the room. The music video itself, and how it welds to the song. Enhancing, as it does, every line with surreal, dire imagery that expertly conveys internal crisis through symbolic destruction of the outside world. And, sadly, the very literal destruction of the self.

Music videos, like other short-form projects, can be some of the “purest” animation imaginable, unbound by conventional narrative. Some months ago I compared Eureka Seven to a collage of images, but that’s often literally all music videos can afford to be, given their limited run-time. It’s no surprise then that “Ruru’s Suicide Show” is on the more surreal end as far as such things go. One can map out the broad story of the main character, but the real resonance lies in the details.

To state the obvious; the “Ruru’s Suicide Show” music video is gorgeous. Director Rabbit MACHINE has built up a body of music video and commercial work over the past decade or so, but it’s hard to imagine any of it could top this. There’s a particularly unnerving edge to the editing in this video. I imagine it’s an attempt to underscore the sharp distinction between the main character’s flights of fancy–often rendered in an even more cartoonish art style and depicting such feats as her miraculously ducking under and dodging a train–and the darker side of her psyche, including the suicidal ideation itself. To me, the grimmest shot in the entire short is a first-person aside where the “camera” is tossed into the path of a speeding train, presumably the Chuō Line mentioned in the lyrics.

Elsewhere; our protagonist laughs, lugs her stuffed rabbit around an unfriendly city, stands alone in a classroom, at one point in front of chalk drawings of butterfly wings and at another as the world outside explodes, is lost among a forest of nooses, envisions a rose blooming from her corpse, poses atop an ocean of (what else?) power lines, and pictures herself crawling into a coffin. She speaks of being bullied, of “building a gravestone” for herself on-camera. Finally, she laughs again, as she jumps.

Despite many of the details matching to the real tragedy alluded to in the song’s title, I don’t believe most of this is intended to be literal. Even the bleakest moments of the video are defined by a bright art style that does not lend itself to such interpretations. Our protagonist seems cast less as specifically Roro and more as an amalgamation of all who’ve taken their own life because they could see no other way out and were spurned there by the uncaring masses of the world. She wants to stop hurting, she wants to stop being lonely, she wants people to look at her. All of this is driven to its horrible endpoint.

Her look–downright stylish, if we’re being honest–might seem at odds with the core theme of the song and the video, but the same dynamic present between the music and the lyrics is repeated here. Her blonde hair, the pink smartphone taped to her face, the black lightning bolt hairclip providing a visual metaphor for the term denpa, all of it is intended to push past merely cute into a funhouse mirror reflection of getting lost in your own head. If you’re the sort who demands evidence of a mask slip, there is a literal one in the video, though only for the briefest moment.

We are clearly intended to both sympathize and empathize with the protagonist, but what happens to her is tragic, and here we have to return to the song itself again and more generally to Shinsei Kamattechan as musicians. I am admittedly a neophyte when it comes to the band’s discography, but I can tell (and have been told as much secondhand) that much of their work deals with alienation and a feeling of not belonging. Be that to some specific part of society or simply the world in general. It is an uncomfortable feeling, and one far more people have than I think many others may realize. It is no wonder so many of us want to be witches that talk to kittens, or aliens riding in a UFO. It is no wonder then again that so many of us come to eventually half-believe we really are. Checking each other, keeping each other in good spirits but away from the brink, is arguably the duty of those of us afflicted by mental illness. Because the consequences of dealing with this alienation alone, or with the toxic fake-help of bad actors, can be, as “Ruru’s Suicide Show” illustrates, tragic.

So the real power of “Ruru’s Suicide Show” is in melancholic solidarity. You are not alone, but giving in to this feeling will not end well. It’s also a plea for understanding; some of the lines spoken by the protagonist in the chorus could just as easily be said from a child to their parent, the so-simple-its-devastating “Mama please listen this isn’t a phase” foremost among them.

In this strength we find that “Ruru’s Suicide Show” is, in a peculiar way, a sort of two-way elegy. On the one hand it is a memorial to the titular Roro and many others like her. On the other; it is a prayer from those who did not make it for those who are still alive.

In my heart I am a worrywort. Any time I listen to this song I think about those people in the video’s comments, many of them obviously kids, and I hope that they’re okay. It’s naïve, but my hope is that by writing this, I am somehow doing some small portion of my part in the “duty” outlined above. To you, my limited audience, I simply want to reassure you, if you are reading this, you are still alive. For those who aren’t, the most we can do is to remember, and to eulogize.

Take care of yourself.

*The “Roro-chan Incident” as it’s come to be called is the sort of case where rumor and reality have bled together so much that it’s hard to know the truth of things. I will not deny that several times while writing this I did wonder if this song could be construed as exploitative. I have no real answer, the question of how much leeway a musician (or anyone) gets via artistic license is, as far as I am concerned, an unsettled one. Regardless, I find the song and video’s power impossible to deny.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime

The Problem With Balgo Parks in BURN THE WITCH

This article contains spoilers for the covered material and assumes familiarity with it. This is your only warning.

I’m always hesitant to write this sort of thing. I don’t want to accrue a reputation as an Issue Critic or, indeed, as someone who thinks that Negativity = Good Important Critical Writing. Neither are true, and certainly there are plenty of people who work in the intersection of sociological study and arts study at a much higher level than I do and I think that work is very important. But it’s generally not what I aspire to do here on Magic Planet Anime.

So it is, truly, with a measure of reluctance that I am writing on Studio Colorido‘s adaption of Burn The Witch in this way. Not to praise the OVA’s many merits–its production, its soundtrack, the engaging fight scenes, the cool do-anything “Witch Kit” guns, or even its bevy of hilarious names*–but to talk about one of its problems. Even worse, Burn The Witch is an OVA that doesn’t actually have that many problems, but the few it does are notable, and one in particular is the worst of the lot by a good margin.

The problem with writing a bad character is that you practically hand dipshits like me ammo to make fun of him.

Balgo Parks.

Balgo Ywain Parks. Has there ever been a character who feels more interpolated from some other anime entirely? Probably, but the feeling definitely exists with Parks, who comes across as a character less deliberately written into the narrative and more one conjured up by some kind of noxious otaku sterotype and snuck in under author Tite Kubo‘s nose.

That of course is not what happened. Someone is responsible for this, but whether it was Kubo himself, a misguided editor, or a mischievous sprite is impossible to know and not worth guessing about. However he got here, Balgo exists, and we must reckon with him. God help us all.

Balgo feels in a way like a new take on an old concept that permeates a lot of shonen; the pervy slapstick character. This is a trope with roots that predate the medium, and to be completely fair it’s not like English-language media is devoid of gross lunkheads. The specific issue with Balgo and the sort of character he represents is not merely one of sexism–though that is certainly a part of it–it’s that he actively leeches both goodwill and narrative coherency from the series he’s a part of.

Burn The Witch makes a fairly big show of denouncing “fairy tales”. The example given is Cinderella, which, this entire spiel in of itself has its own problems, but let’s take it on the level the OVA clearly wants us to. Waiting around for someone to bring excitement into your life or to solve your problems is pointless, because if someone else does that for you they can easily take it away. You should strive to seize your goals yourself. In as much as an OVA based on the first half dozen chapters of a manga can have a core thesis, this is Burn The Witch‘s.

For most of the characters that we get to know in the OVA, this plays out pretty logically. Ninny is a popstar in London proper but seeks to build her reputation as a dragonhunter in Reverse London so she can one day join the Sabres, Wing Bind’s actual dragon-hunting division. Noel meanwhile is simply trying to earn a living. So far, so coherent.

Let us for the moment set aside the sexist aspects of Balgo’s character. (We will, rest assured, come back to them.) From a simple coherence point of view, the main issue with Balgo’s character is that he has absolutely no agency. None at all. Zero. It is established early on that Balgo became a Dragonclad–and thus attracts dragons–by accident. He is thus in the care of Wing Bind, and more specifically our leads, by accident. Late in the OVA, he summons a sword from the Witch Kit he’s been given, by accident. Balgo does not do things, he is a straw dummy whom things happen to.

I have never related to a villain more in my life.

Effectively, he’s a reverse-maiden in distress. But the way to solve a problem caused by patriarchal norms is rarely to simply invert them. Balgo gains all the problems of that character archetype; a lack of agency, and a lack of any real depth, but inherits the benefits of being a male protagonist in a frankly poorly-written shonen series; being a wish fulfillment proxy for the intended audience (and perhaps the author, though that’s harder to say with authority) and facing no consequences for the one thing he does do of his own free will; ogle and harass the female characters.

And we must tackle that part of things, too. Because it’s easy to simply say that Balgo is a wish-fulfillment character and that that is the problem, but it’s not, it’s only a small part of it. Wish-fulfillment in narrative fiction is fine, and every audience under the sun is entitled to some amount of stories that simply exist to let them watch someone similar to them succeed and triumph over adversity. The problem specifically with Balgo is that he is a wish-fulfillment character who faces no adversity. And indeed, makes no choices. By simply existing, he actively cuts against Burn The Witch‘s own central theme. He is put into danger and taken out of it through no action of his own. Even the aforementioned summoned sword simply exists, he doesn’t use it.

Balgo, thus, does not seize anything. Violating the OVA’s whole thematic point. The closest idea of his we get to a goal is a desire to shack up with Noel. That, too, is simply handed to him, as the final few minutes of the OVA imply that Noel, for some reason, returns his feelings. (There’s a clear intended contrast between Noel as a “cold tsundere” and Ninny as a “hot tsundere” but it doesn’t really work. Noel and Baglo barely speak before this scene, contrast Ninny’s many heated interactions with Macy.) And then the whole thing ends on a panty shot, in what is presumably supposed to be a wink to the audience. Instead, it comes across, at least to yours truly, as a reminder to not be too generous when telling people about this thing’s flaws.

Yeah that’s about the face that I made, too.

Balgo does have one compatriot in Burn The Witch. Macy, who fulfills a similar role, is similarly lacking in any agency, and explicitly harbors feelings for Ninny. But despite both being problem characters, the difference in the magnitude of the problem is stark. Macy’s “clingy lesbian” characterization is certainly unflattering and would not be present in a better-written series, but her relationship with the dragon Elly gives her an extra dimension that Balgo–who mind you is billed as one of the protagonists–simply doesn’t have. And as mentioned, she gets far more interaction with Ninny than Balgo does with Noel.

Not that there isn’t improvement you could make here too of course, but at least they like, acknowledge each other.

And really, the biggest issue with Balgo is not any of this. It’s that he’s unignorable. These problems were and are all present in the manga. But in animated form, mugging all over the screen, with VA Shimba Tsuchiya turning in a performance that is perfect to the character by dint of being ludicrously obnoxious, he goes from an irritation to a defacement.

It is, of course, possible, technically, that the manga will rectify this at some point. It’s not like there aren’t ways out. One could give Balgo something to actually do. One could write him out of the series entirely. One could simply make his comedic relief revolve around anything else but talking about sexual harassment. But as long as he remains that way, he is an inescapable black mark on an otherwise solid series. It is cheap to say this, but a version of Burn The Witch that replaces Balgo with almost anyone or anything else is an infinitely better version of Burn The Witch.

And that sucks, because other than this one glaring problem, Burn The Witch is actually quite fun. But when that one glaring problem sucks all of that fun out of the room any time he’s on screen, it’s a serious issue. And Balgo, sadly, all on his own, is that issue.

*Seriously. Ninny Spangcole? Bruno Bangnyfe? Genuinely incredible.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime

Under The Deep Pale Moon: Revisiting THE ROLLING GIRLS Five Years Later

Whatever else may be said about it, there is almost nothing else like The Rolling Girls. From its circumstances of creation, to its odd hodgepodge of themes and aesthetics, to even its place in the broader continuum of 2010s TV anime. The Rolling Girls is a true original, one of the few directorial turns from Kotomi Deai and an unusual move from Wit Studio, best known for Attack on Titan. The show is not perfect; it’s weird, it’s wildly overambitious, it’s more than a bit of a mess, but I’d argue that almost none of that matters.

Since I first watched the series a bit under a year ago I’ve turned it over in my head a number of times. I’ve referred to it as the anime equivalent of record-collector rock; a sometimes (but not always) derisive term used to pin down music that mines on reference and stylistic riffing to communicate its ideas. I don’t think that’s an incorrect description, though even just a year later I recognize far more references in the series than I did the first pass around, but there’s more going on here. The show’s tagline spells things out about as clearly as the series ever deigns to:

Rolling, falling, scrambling girls. For others, for themselves. Even if they’re destined to be “one of the rest”

That’s a fascinating little poem, isn’t it? “Even if they’re destined to be ‘one of the rest.'” is a kind of inspiring that doesn’t really come from anime (or really, any pop media) that often. In some of its best moments, The Rolling Girls is a treatise on how support, “soft action”, and even simple determination can match up to more bombastic natural gifts. It took me months to realize it, but this is why the show’s central plot tokens–the Heart Stones–are revealed in the finale to not actually do anything.

This is not to say that The Rolling Girls is an anime about accepting your lot in life–that’d be absurd–but not everyone is Superman, and that’s fine. Some people want to be Superman, and might eventually get there, and that’s fine too. There’s an agnostic, nonjudgmental bent to the series’ storytelling that is incredibly refreshing even five years after it aired. The Heart Stones, the final narration tells us, respond not to skill but to passion. Which you can read a lot of ways; personally I think it maps rather well onto the difficulty of “making it”–financially, emotionally–by pursuing what you love.

And this makes some sense; up and down the show the power of both the bombastic Bests and everyone else comes not from some magic item, but from passion. The show’s fractured near-future Japan divvies the country up into some several dozen microstates, each driven by a love of something. The otaku paradise of Always Comima is the first example we get, and by the series’ midpoint we’re getting hit with wild rock ‘n roll pyrotechnics set to exploding Buddha statues.

The phenomenon of superpowered “Bests” is never explicitly explained, but seems unrelated. The character of Hibiki, perhaps my favorite of the titular Rolling Girls, is rooted in this discrepancy. The finale shows us the hard work she has to go through to catch up to the naturally-gifted Bests. As someone who has always considered herself a bit of a late bloomer and specifically not particularly naturally intelligent, it is maybe inevitable that I’d see myself in the show in general, and Hibiki in particular.

The narrative sympathizes with both the Bests and the Rest, but the fact that The Rolling Girls‘ final insert song contains the lyric “Let’s sing a never-ending song for the bastards of the world” should tell you who we, the audience, are intended to see ourselves in.

The Rolling Girls remains, at least in my experience, a touch enigmatic. It has a place in the wider trends of TV anime of the New ’10s, but it’s a strange one; somewhere in the farthest ring out of the FLCL-indebted high-concept action anime that were often some of the most intriguing (though not always the “best”) shows of the decade. (Flip-Flappers, Kill La Kill, PUNCHLINE!, FLCL‘s own sequels Progressive and Alternative. Hell, even Akiba’s Trip, there were a surprising number of these things!) It is united with them by its freewheeling, wild aesthetic sense. It stands apart because of its thematic core and because of its unusual setup.

There are very few other anime in which Nozomi and friends would be the main characters, but that they are here is something we should all be thankful for. Nozomi and friends, through their struggles, help save the world. Who could ask for anything more than that? Indeed, perhaps we, too, all the rest of us, may help save our own troubled planet. I have said it before and will say it again; everyone is a hero to somebody.

If you like my work, consider following me on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime, Other Posts

in defiance of the Sun: The Eternal Midnight of ZUTOMAYO

Depending on how often you use the site, and what your browser history is like, you may recently have seen this two-tone haired character staring out at you from somewhere in your Youtube recommendations.

That’s how I first learned of Zutomayo, at least. The rock group’s full name (Zutto Mayonaka de Iinoni) means something like “I wish it was midnight all the time” (or more liberally and poetically; “Midnight Forever”), a phrase that gives some indication all on its own where the group are coming from. If you want the traditional rock critic-delivered backstory spiel, there isn’t much of one for Zutomayo. The group consists of the pseudonymous ACA-Ne and a cadre of other musicians, and are only a few years old. (Their debut single “Bite The Second Hand” dropped in 2018.) Despite all this; the group are no cult act, at least not domestically, with their two EPs ranking high both on Billboard of Japan’s Hot 100 and the pickier Oricon album charts.

But I’m not that interested in explaining why Zutomayo are popular. I think that’s pretty obvious; they’re a really good band with impressive chops that also tend to put their songs behind compelling and creative animated music videos. That they are well-liked makes perfect sense.

I am interested on a more personal level, here. It’s not much an exaggeration to say that Zutomayo are the most I’ve cared about what could probably be defined as an actual rock band since I was a teenager, being someone who mostly grew up on top 40 and later hip-hop as my preferred music formats of choice.

I first became aware of the “Study Me” video not long after it went live. The first time I listened to it, I “only” liked it. I saved it to a youtube playlist I keep good pop songs in, but I didn’t have an immediate strong reaction to it. How doing that tends to work for me is that I play something a few times, eventually get sick of it, and remove it from said playlist. (Very sophisticated, I know. This is why I’m not a music critic in any serious sense.)

The second time I heard it, something….clicked. I don’t know if it’s that I was also watching the music video with full attention this time, or if it was just something in the way ACA-Ne yells “FUN-KY!” during the chorus, but I was completely blown away. I listened to it back to back several times in a row (something I almost never do) and immediately started seeking out other songs by the band. I’ve developed my favorites over the relatively short time I’ve known of Zutomayo, but it took until I stumbled upon a video by Youtuber Steve M. (I don’t normally like that kind of thing, but Steve’s video is one of the few solid sources of English-language information on Zutomayo and I think it’s quite good) for me to start really considering why this group’s music was resonating with me so much.

“Study Me” is a very defiant song. I’d argue you don’t need to understand a single syllable of the lyrics to get that; the music video’s background-character-gone-rogue plot makes it pretty clear. But Zutomayo’s songs, from the admittedly imperfect information I can gather via translated lyrics, often seem to traffic in two broad themes. One is alienation; from society as in “Study Me” or from other people via failed romantic or familial relationships, as in say “HAM” or indeed the aforementioned “Bite The Second Hand”. The other is defiant, sometimes radical self-reinvention, as in (again) “Study Me” or even “MILABO” which kind of appears to wed the two themes.

I’ve seen the popular theory floated that every one of Zutomayo’s two-tone-haired MV protagonists are actually the same character, either in alternate versions or at different stages of life. This is perhaps a little too heavy on capital-L Lore for most “serious” music consumers, but I think the idea is at least thematically sound. I won’t claim that I can “prove” that all of Zutomayo’s songs are autobiographical excerpts from ACA-Ne’s life, but she’s a good enough songwriter that whether or not they’re grounded in concrete reality doesn’t really matter. (And, this must be tempered with the claim I’ve seen from more than one song translator that Zutomayo’s lyrics tend to be….poetically circumspect, which can make concrete readings difficult even in the native language, but that’s not anything that’ll be news to say, fans of American indie rock. Plus, I’d argue that all truly great art is open to a plurality of interpretations.)

As a side note that I tried and failed to work into the main body of the article: the best scene in “Study Me” is where the camera zooms out and she sees all the footage of her alternate lives (or whatever they are) playing. You cannot change my mind on this.

Since properly “getting into” the group–that is to say, not long after watching that video– I sought out a fan community who have been nothing but pleasant to me (hello Zutomayo Zone!), which brings us to the present, and my own ruminations.

Alienation, failed relationships, distance from society, the pinpricks of light that constitute occasional and sometimes radical self-reinvention….it clicked for me sometime yesterday. I have no idea if ACA-Ne is part of the LGBTQ community (it’s not like anybody right now has any lack of reason to feel like it’s them against the world), but these are themes and ideas that tend to resonate with that community, which I am part of. Once I realized that, everything fell into place.

I’m not saying this character is necessarily trans, but come on one of the versions of her is a catgirl with striped blue and pink leggings.

Anecdotally, a good chunk of English-speaking Zutomayo fans I’ve met are queer or otherwise marginalized, and I would not be even remotely surprised if that holds true for much of the Anglophone fanbase in general. It is totally possible to read “Study Me” in particular as a defiant demand for understanding an acceptance–the song’s not called “Please Study Me”–and even if that’s a million miles away from its original intent, I’d argue it’s as valid a reading as any.

I have not made any secret of the fact that I’ve been in a rough mental spot recently due to recent events. Perhaps Zutomayo is just the music I needed for the moment. If that’s true, I wouldn’t quite say that Zutomayo saved my life, but it’s the closest any band has ever come. (An honorable mention should go to The Ataris, who got me out of a similar rut several years ago, but I never felt the same immediate connection to their music.) Given the specifics of my life and hell, just the world right now, I can completely understand, say, wanting to break out of the depressing shell you find yourself in and becoming a cute space idol instead.

Not that this song is exactly cheerful, but no one’s here for sunshine. The band is called “Midnight Forever“, after all.

This, of course, is not accounting for the more immediate appeal of Zutomayo’s music. I’ve often noticed that in particular I cannot quite tell if certain things in a given Zutomayo song are being played on “actual instruments” or if it’s actually very convincing programmed production. It usually at least sounds live, but it can be surprisingly hard to tell! Either way; the band’s timbrel palette is one of my favorites I’ve heard in years, especially the downright fatal bass on some of their funkier songs (“Study Me” once again and the slightly more recent “JK Bomber” come to mind here). This is without even mentioning ACA-Ne’s sharp, clear voice, which has a wonderful bright quality to it that I just don’t hear that often on either side of the Pacific.

I’ve since learned that Zutomayo are not completely without peers. One of the greatest music-related shocks of my life thusfar was learning that there’s an entire world of Japanese rock and pop that just kinda sounds like this–a non-Zutomayo track I’ve been greatly vibing with lately is Yorushika’s heart-rendingly depressing “That’s Why I Gave Up On Music“.

But there’s just something that, even after writing all of this, is unquantifiably special to me about Zutomayo. Maybe some of us just gravitate toward the nighttime, and maybe Zutomayo make music for those people. For those times when morning seems more like a curse than a blessing, I can think of no better act in music right now.

CORRECTION: This article previously stated the entire group was anonymous. This is only the case with lead singer ACA-Ne, who is only known by her pseudonym.

If you like my work, consider following me on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work for The Geek Girl Authority or my archived reviews on Anilist.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime

to pick up the pen and sing again – Another Late Night “Idolm@ster” Ramble

A common, but under-examined aspect of the human experience is paralysis. The feeling of “I can’t do that.” The inability to move on, the shock of freshly re-opened trauma, the crushing mundanity and idleness of simple insecurity.

I recently lost part of my primary writing tool. This, coming off a rather difficult week of responses (sometimes disingenuous, sometimes genuine) to a certain piece and broken air conditioners in the midst of a heatwave, has not made for a productive, fun, or at times even tolerable writing environment, and I have felt quite drained.

As a counterbalance, I am trying to indulge my spur of the moment flashes of inspiration more. So I feel like it may be, if not productive perhaps, at least interesting and fun for me (and what should my writing be if not those things?) to look at something that has helped me overcome that drained-ness.

Which brings us to The Idolm@ster. The 2011 anime has been something of a constant background presence in my life over the past year. I have been working through it very slowly despite its short length. Not out of a lack of enjoyment but just as a mundane consequence of juggling other obligations. On some level though, perhaps I don’t want my time with these characters to end.

One of those characters is Chihaya Kisaragi, a personal favorite, and the focus of this piece. Chihaya has an interesting air about her that I’ve found fascinating since I started the show. I’ve talked recently about my love of outwardly-cool female characters who carry within them a deep, almost elemental sorrow. But I’ve struggled to articulate why I find the character archetype so compelling. I think episode 20, which is about Chihaya, has given me at least part of the answer. (Full disclosure! It’s actually as far as I’ve watched. I will feel a little silly if I post this and then episode 21 completely tops it, but hey, that’s the risk you run.)

The plot is fairly simple and I’ll summarize it here briefly for the benefit of the reader. The unscrupulous president of 765’s rival company 961 gets a hold of and leaks information about Chihaya’s past. Namely, that she had a younger brother who died when she was a child. The tabloid article’s writer near-explicitly blames Chihaya for her brother’s death, reopening an old rift between the idol and her parents and causing her to choke when she tries to sing. To greatly simplify (and rob the episode of its emotional impact, which is a borderline crime. The perils of criticism!) she is eventually coaxed back onto the stage by the pleas of her fellow idols, and by her own recognition that she sings as much for herself as she does for the spirit of her late brother or for anyone else. And furthermore, her realization that that is okay.

I do not, in any way, mean to compare the magnitude of my problems and Chihaya’s, but what this episode really drove home for me is that what I love about these characters is that they persevere. Our traumas change us, but what characters like this seem to say is “Yes, that may be so, but they do not destroy us.” As someone who is pretty deeply insecure about….well, everything, I admire that level of weathered strength. I do not envy it–those are two different things–but there is something genuinely inspiring about seeing someone who took such a rough, malicious public beating stand back up and continue her life’s work not because she has anything to prove to anyone but because she wants to.

There’s a deep confidence to it, but more importantly, a luminous joy. One hammered home by the wonderful magical realism present in the episode’s final moments. Her dignity and her passion are never in question. What Chihaya may realize is that ultimately; no struggle can keep a singer from her microphone forever. Her voice swells again, and the song plays on.

If you like my work, consider following me on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

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 is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Misc. Anime

Apathy Is Not The Answer: The Anime Fan Community Needs To Defend Its Most Vulnerable Members

I don’t normally write things like this. I so don’t normally write things like this that I’m at something of a loss as to how to start this post. The specific catalyst for this post is a notice from Anilist moderators Mex and Electrochemist that they’re stepping down as staff members, but the issues here are reflective of a wider cultural problem in the English-speaking anime fan community, and one that it cannot afford to ignore in a world that is increasingly being forced to reckon with status quos that some of us (including myself) have long been privileged enough to take for granted.

This has been a recurring theme in English otakudom over the past several years. Recently, prominent fan space /r/Animemes finally banned use of the term “trap” to describe feminine AMAB characters. This specific issue has long been a point of contention in anime fan spaces, and it’s useful to discuss here as it both relates to my own specific experiences (I am a transwoman) and is a microcosm of the aforementioned broader problems. /r/Animemes did not take the “sudden” rules change kindly, and one can find a majority of its community mocking the staff even several days later.

Astolfo from Fate/Grand Order. A character who the term in question is often applied to. (It is worth noting that Astolfo’s gender identity is never explicitly disclosed by the text and is listed as “a secret” on their character card).

The arguments for the use of the term “trap” (and I do apologize to my fellow LGBTQ+ persons but I will be using the term in this post for demonstrative purposes) tend to come in one of several flavors. Given my preference for assuming good faith, I tend to believe that most people who defend the term genuinely believe these arguments. (There is certainly a contingent of those who do not but continue to use them in bad faith, but active malice is beyond the scope of this post.)

The first prominent argument is that “trap” is a “term of endearment”. Setting aside the curious logic that one’s intent in saying something absolves them of all blame regardless of what that something is, this is not true, and is a recent post-hoc justification for the term. The origins of “trap” to mean “a character treated as male by the text but who looks feminine or androgynous” are in fact rather murky.

The issue is that regardless of where it may come from, it has, in fact, been applied to actual AMAB people who present femininely (mostly transwomen, though hardly just us), evidence of which is unfortunately scattered to Twitch chats and the like. There is also a larger history of “trap” being used specifically against transwomen as a slur that dates back to at least the ’70s.

I don’t blame straight or cis persons for not knowing this (many queer people do not!), and I am not a linguist and am thus unqualified to say whether the two terms are etymologically related, but the conflation is certainly present. Thus, when transwomen see the term “trap” being applied to characters who share some of their characteristics, it can be hurtful. That is, ultimately, all anyone wants out of the issue, the acknowledgement that it can be hurtful and, ideally, willful abandonment of the term.

(As a side note and to deflect the obvious. I am aware of the minority of queer persons who call themselves “traps” and are attempting to reclaim the term. A distinction must be drawn here: that is the right of a queer person, not anyone else. Wiktionary in fact defines all of these senses of the term right in a row.)

The second is the frankly rather ridiculous claim that asking people to refrain from hurtful language constitutes a loss of “freedom of speech”. Freedom of speech arguments are tricky in general, because despite what one might assume, there is not actually a consensus on what the term means. (There is a lengthy section on Wikipedia’s page on the subject about how it is interpreted from place to place. It is a genuinely fascinating and difficult area of law, and I encourage the interested to look into it.)

Regardless, it is not commonly held to apply in opt-in/opt-out internet communities. Were Anilist, /r/Animemes, and so on, public forums of import, one might have an argument, but they are not. No one is advocating for a ban of discussing characters who this term may be taken to apply to, they are just being asked to use a less offensive label, something quite reasonable and simple to do.

But this, of course, is all quite specific. The broader issue is a lack of consideration. I do not wish to levy accusations here beyond the bare minimum, but I have spoken to many people, some close friends, who have been driven away from anime as an artform and from anime communities as a space because of sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and so on. This is not to say that “everyone needs to like anime”, because that is certainly not true. But if you don’t think that the simple fact of people being shitty to others causes this kind of harm is at the very least, regrettable, then you’re not an anime fan, you’re a bigot. Anime fan behavior can put people off of an artform they might have otherwise loved, and if you are a reasonable person you must recognize that that sucks. For the many differences we may have, what unites anime fans is our passion for the art that we love. Depriving someone else of that passion is despicable.

It’s hardly definitive but I feel this flash poll, in which over half of my followers (who are mostly queer, anime fans, or both) responded in the positive, is indicative of general sentiment.

And this brings us back to that opening paragraph. I liked Anilist (and still like Anilist!) in part because it seemed like a place where the staff actually kind of, you know, cared. To see two of the staff members most active in fighting harmful rhetoric step down is heartbreaking, and feels telling. I have no insider information about Anilist’s inner workings, but Mex’s comments do not inspire great faith in me that the site will be a haven for marginalized otaku going forward. The worst part, of course, is that is exactly what the tiny minority of those who are actively hateful instead of simply apathetic–the ones who this post is not aimed at, because there is no convincing them–want.

I would here call on the members of Anilist’s administration to really consider if they want Anilist to simply be “another anime listing site” or if they want to expend the (admittedly not trivial!) effort to make it a genuinely better community.

But of course, this is not specifically about Anilist. This problem permeates the entire English-speaking anime fan community, an unwelcome and ugly relic of the era where the biggest places to discuss anime online in English were 4chan and related communities. A problem whose biggest offenders actively want to continue this status quo.

I have seen some sign that things are changing, with the rise of several prominent queer video essayists who work in anime spaces (including Digi-nee, who came out only after achieving prominence and managed to keep most of her viewers) being a good sign that there is still an audience for this stuff that hasn’t been driven off by the worst of the worst, but these spaces must be actively protected. Apathy is not enough, and standing idly by accomplishes nothing. I am not excluding myself from this call to action, it is easy to pretend that all marginalized groups are fundamentally the same (something, upon editing this article, I myself am trying my damnedest not to do) but the fact of the matter is that everyone needs different accommodations and the ugly undercurrent present in anime fan spaces affects us all differently even as the root cause remains more or less the same.

If I can end this with a plea, it’s this. Consider your words, consider who they may affect. If someone asks you to change your ways, listen instead of arguing. We need to do better, because pretending there is nothing wrong will not solve anything.

Generally I end my articles with a pre-cut footer template. Here, instead, I will simply ask that if you found this article any sort of helpful, consider following me on Twitter.