Seasonal First Impressions: JELLYFISH CAN’T SWIM IN THE NIGHT, But With The Moon on Them, They Can Shine

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


I think most people know that jellyfish aren’t fish. They’re cnidarians, part of an ancient order of primitive animals that date back to the earliest days of multicellular life on earth. Perhaps because of their ancient origins, or simply because they’ve never been pressured otherwise, jellyfish do not actually swim per se. They have no muscles with which to do so. Instead, jellyfish are carried along by the ocean’s currents. Clearly, this has worked out just fine for them, but what any one person might make of that situation is going to vary. When you see the jellyfish, do you see something hapless, or something that just needs a little help to get going?

This question, of course as a metaphor, is central to Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night, which, over the course of one of the year’s strongest premieres, establishes itself as a fairly unique take on an old, old story in the TV anime format. Jellyfish is not technically an idol show—indeed, the industry seems to be moving away from those over the past year or so, and Jellyfish here premiered on the same day as another non-idol music anime, Girls Band Cry—but it shares much of the DNA of one. Specifically, a kind of starry-eyed, emotionally-driven resonance, which it spins into an underdog story about the difficulty of pursuing your passions against the backdrop of a world that may be apathetic or actively hostile to your attempts to do so, not to mention the specter of self-doubt, a force that should not be underestimated.

Jellyfish‘s visual techniques are varied and are all applied very well. Chiefly, the show seems focused on cementing a solid sense of place early on, nighttime Shibuya rendered as a concrete but also almost supernatural nexus of nocturnal vibe, where anything seems possible if you reach out to touch it, and you can truly be yourself. The directing on this thing, courtesy of Takeshita Ryouhei (recently also known for the Paldean Winds ONAs), is nothing short of incredible. Our protagonist, Kouzuki Mahiru [Itou Miku], is an uncomplicated but fully-realized character, she is near-literally haunted by flashbacks throughout the opening episode, as they manifest in front of her as glowing apparitions of her former self and her friends. She has involved daydreams that interrupt the flow of the episode, only to be waved off or rewound back like a video tape; daydreams where she worries about a future as a “nobody”, or emotional outbursts she’s too self-conscious to actually have. (As a fellow serial imaginer, and hell, a fellow nobody, I sympathize.)

Mahiru used to be an artist. She isn’t anymore, but as we learn throughout the course of the first episode, after arguments with her sister about makeup, funny socks and TikTok influencers, and in-between hashing out tentative Halloween plans with her friends, she used to be an artist. Once, when she was a child, a drawing of hers was even selected to be made into a mural, a mural that still stands in the show’s version of Shibuya up to the present day; a sprawling tangle of bold lines and colors that, of course, form a jellyfish. Her friends, as kids often do, saw the mural and made fun of it, not knowing it was hers. This single act was enough to completely uproot her self-esteem, and eventually she takes a marker and scribbles over her own “Original Concept by:” credit on the mural. Thus rendered anonymous, it clings to a city wall, disowned but not disappearing.

As part of the landscape, it becomes a backdrop for—we must assume—many things, but the most relevant is a street performance by a random indie idol named Miiko [Uesaka Sumire]. Mahiru doesn’t much appreciate said performance using her mural as a backdrop, but can’t muster up the nerve to say anything. After all, it would, in her own words, take a real “hot-blooded weirdo” to speak up in the middle of a concert.

So of course, one does.

Yamanouchi Kano [Takahashi Rie] is, in terms of attitude, everything Mahiru is not. But she used to be something, too; an idol herself, part of a group called the Sunflower Dolls, in her case. We later learn that her departure from her chosen field was, unlike Mahiru’s, involuntary. (These things tend to happen when you deck another girl in your group, a murky incident we’re not given many details on here and which I’m willing to bet will form a strong running B-plot throughout the whole show.)

It’s a little funny to see a show frame street heckling as a powerful, heroic act, but in-context and in the moment, it really is. Mahiru comes off as a little mystified by Kano, but she’s clearly taken by her, and it’s very easy to read the relationship that almost immediately takes hold here as something more intense than simple admiration if you’re so inclined, but what’s truly important is that this provides a seed for Mahiru to realize that she wants to pursue art again.

She’s not the only one; Kano has a thing going on as an utaite1 despite being blackballed by the idol industry proper. She does this under the name JELEE, providing another, marginally more literal meaning to the show’s title. Naturally the end of the episode sees the two combining their powers, but this takes some doing.

It’s clear that Mahiru’s insecurity, while it might stem from a single obvious cause, has since grown beyond it, and when Kano initially tries to get Mahiru to join her, she literally runs away, spouting a fountain of excuses and retreating to the relative anonymity of the evening train. Encountering Kano again, during Halloween night, while once again in Shibuya, gives Mahiru the final push. Once again, the pair encounter Miiko. Once again, she’s performing in front of the mural, this time covering “Colorful Moonlight”, a song Kano wrote during her days in the Sunflower Dolls. Once again, Kano tells her off. This time, though, things go a step further. Borrowing an acoustic guitar and stepping into the performer’s spotlight herself, Kano begins singing her version of the song, here stripped down to just guitar and vocals.

This marks the first time we hear the song unobscured, and this is where Mahiru finally frees herself of her own anxieties, even if only temporarily. She draws behind Kano, making huge, swooping lines with a stick of lipstick, she marks up her own mural with googly eyes; making it look like the jellyfish from the logo of Kano’s youtube channel. This whole thing is being livestreamed, and thus, JELEE ceases to be one person, and becomes a collective; what Mahiru cannot accomplish on her own, she finds is possible in the company of Kano, someone who stokes her creative fires and inspires her. On that beautifully-executed note, the episode ends.

Not long after this incredibly important shot.

I’ve glossed over and simplified much in the recapping of this episode’s actual plot, because in some ways the literal events take a distant backseat to the emotional beats. I haven’t had space to mention the brilliant little scene near the beginning where Mahiru hesitantly chooses between an angel or devil costume, only for Kano—who we haven’t met yet—to snatch up the devil without a second thought. I haven’t talked about the series’ use of symbols; jellyfish obviously, but also lipstick as a signifier for all things simultaneously “adult” and ruthlessly constraining, a sort of deliberate inversion of how a lot of anime for young girls use that same symbol, the use of video effects to emphasize the artificiality (and thus lack of consequence) of Mahiru’s daydreams. Ultimately, the thing is that these are details, and while there is a lot going on in Jellyfish and such details greatly enhance it, it is very clearly a big-picture show. That’s why it feels like there really is something special about the idea of not an idol anime or a girls’ band anime but an artist collective anime. Something too to the idea that the lead is not even the singer, but the visual artist. (Our eventual other two members of this troupe are a VTuber and a pianist, who knows how that’s going to work? I’m excited to find out!)

This is not a perfect premiere—what is?—some of the dialogue is a little strained, and I would really like to see the camera be a bit less leery going forward, but these feel like such minor complaints compared to the pure pulse of breathtaking energy that is the rest of the premiere.

Jellyfish, in a word, is hyperactive. Eager to make you look at its murals and songs, its nighttime Shibuya, the strong, instantly-formed shock-of-destiny relationship between its two leads, its flashy camera tricks and video effects, its characters, its idea that everyone has a song inside of them. This is a show that wants to impress you. “Isn’t all this beautiful?” It asks, and the wonderful thing is that it’s completely right; it is.


1: A kind of internet-based singer, originally associated with NicoNicoDouga, now common on Youtube as well. Perhaps the most famous utaite-turned-professional in contemporary J-pop is Ado, apparently a deliberate influence, in the case of this anime.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or other automatic tools are used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. However, some articles may have additional tags placed by WordPress. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: ASTRO NOTE Isn’t Quite Out of This World

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


Just because of the sheer number of people on the planet, there must be someone, somewhere, who tuned into Astro Note‘s premiere while knowing literally nothing about it. This person, I must imagine, was faintly confused. Not as much as they’d’ve been by Train to The End of The World‘s premiere earlier this week, but still pretty puzzled. Fakeout openings are nothing new in shows like this, but the disconnect between Astro Note‘s first minute or so—a retro sci-fi pastiche complete with space suits and ray guns—and the rest of its premiere episode, is pretty funny. Unfortunately, there’s a good chance that this is the funniest thing about it, which when the actual main aim of your show is to be a romcom, is kind of a problem. On the other hand, as is always the case, I tend to not want to judge shows that are clearly Doing Something too harshly.

Let’s set the question of quality aside for right now. Astro Note‘s actual premise is thus; Goutokuji Mira [Uchida Maaya], an alien from the planet Wido, escapes a firefight and takes refuge on Earth, of course in Japan, sometime in the 21st century. There, she bumbles her way into ownership of a share house, the Astro Lodge, which has, as a living perk, free daily breakfasts. (Is this a real thing? I have no idea, probably!) The building’s tenants, a cast of colorful archetypes rendered with varying levels of success and clarity, demand she find them a new cook, since Mira’s own cooking is more or less inedible. Yes, a good chunk of this episode’s setup is based around one of the oldest jokes in the format. At the very least, said inedible food is not literally just rendered as purple gloop this time around.

She puts out a for-hire ad, which as it turns out is completely full of lies and other made-up things. (She’s an alien, which her housemates of course do not know, so she doesn’t know how job listings work. Obviously.) Nonetheless, they attract an applicant, our male lead Miyasaki Takumi [Saitou Souma], who first encounters Mira when she nearly falls off the Astro Lounge’s roof. He catches her, giving us our obligatory Meet Cute moment, and only then does he find out that she’s more or less in charge of this place.

Since the job posting was full of lies, Takumi cannot actually get the position, but he stays at Astro Lounge anyway, serving as the house’s daily breakfast chef regardless. Why? Because Mira is pretty, and he’s talked into it by two of the other tenants.

Fair enough, I suppose, but it seems like a lot of convulsion to get us to Step 1 of our romcom setup. The remainder of the episode is spent on Takumi settling in, interacting with the various other tenants, and getting a good idea of just how strange Mira is.

If the non-sci-fi portions of this premise seem familiar, and you’re someone with a decent command of 80s anime, that’s because this series appears to be heavily riffing on Takahashi Rumiko‘s Maison Ikkoku, which had a TV anime that ran for nearly a hundred episodes back in the Cold War era. I will admit that I’m not really familiar with that series beyond its basic premise, but I am assured that there are a number of references in this series to that one, despite the fact that they’re not officially “related” in any way. (You can draw a loose analogue here to how last season’s Brave Bang Bravern was heavily drawing from the Brave series of mecha anime despite not actually being part of it.) The most obvious of these is the name of Mira’s species itself; “Wido”, as in, a homophone for “widow,” which the female lead of Maison Ikkoku actually was, a mistake that Takumi makes when he overhears Mira talking to her dog—actually her superior from Wido—late at night.

Building on previous texts is all well and good, but this show still has to stand on its own two legs, and this is where I start to doubt Astro Note. A romcom needs to succeed at either the rom or the com to be tolerable, and ideally it should be good at both. So far, most of the humor in Astro Note is fairly rote and will be familiar to anyone who’s seen any character-driven comedy anime of the past several decades. This is hardly the worst I’ve ever seen some of these jokes done, but I have nonetheless seen them before; the hapless woman who can’t cook, the fish out of water who doesn’t know what these ‘Smart Phones’ and ‘Films’ you speak of are, the precocious kid who’s too smart for his own good, the scumbag cheapskate salaryman (who in this case is actually just unemployed full stop), the vicious little dog whose anger seems too big for its small body, the idol who’s a real piece of work in person. And so on, and so forth.

Now, is an anime (or any piece of art or entertainment) necessarily obligated to reinvent the wheel? Well, no, of course not, it just has to succeed at what it’s trying to do. Some of Astro Note‘s gags work better than others; it’s almost certainly just because I’m a sucker for the archetype, but I do find Matsubara Teruko, the aforementioned jackass idol, pretty amusing. (She’s voiced by Furihata Ai, AKA Ruby from Love Live!, which may help sell the joke for some.)

To my own surprise, I also liked Wakabayashi Tomihiro, the salaryman character [Sugita Tomokazu], whose blatant dickbaggery is so audacious that it can wrap back around to funny, given the right circumstance. These things are all matters of taste, though, and I imagine how willing you are to watch characters that you’ve almost certainly seen versions of before interact is going to drive how much slack you’re willing to give Astro Note.

And really, the question of how much slack to give the show is hounding me a bit, here. I feel like I’m being too mean and too lenient at the same time. On the one hand, no one wants to ever be accused of Not Getting It, so I am going out of my way to establish that I am aware that the show is deliberately working within a restrained, older format, and I think it does sometimes succeed within that format. On the other hand, this is a pretty busy season already, and it’s only going to get busier. Should anyone really be setting aside an extra 20 minutes of their own time each week to watch a show whose first episode could be charitably described as “decent”? I’m honestly not sure!

The show’s visuals are worth checking in on here, since that’s about the only thing I’ve not addressed. I suspect that these, too, will be divisive. Astro Note is definitely colorful and solidly-composed, which puts it a cut above anything actually bad (and feels like an oasis in the desert after a full season of watching Ishura and the like), but where we get into odder territory are the character designs. Some are pretty good; Mira is cute, and her curling hair is a nice visual touch that nods to the show’s inspirations. Our male lead is inoffensive but also visually a bit bland in a way that’s unfortunately inescapable with almost any male romcom lead. I actually quite like Teruko’s design both in and out of her idol getup, and the other designs range from decent to a bit offputting. I would’ve liked to see the retro influence come through a bit stronger in this area, and maybe they still will in characters we’ve not met yet, as the ED seems to allude to, but still. Also, at two distinct points, Mira is bowing and the camera is angled such that we’re staring at her ass. This is the kind of thing that would be excusable if the mood the show was going for was “horny,” but it seems to be aiming much more for cute and funny, so it’s just kind of offputting.

All told, and for me personally, I turn to the old post-2000s anime fan standby of the three-episode rule, which despite its name is more of a tentative suggestion. It’s good for anime of a couple different kinds, one of which is something like this, where it’s not clear whether its disparate elements are going to cohere in any substantial way, and how good at paying off its setups it’s going to be. Even then; this is a comedy anime, not Madoka Magica, so if someone were inclined to just write it off right here, I’d get that too. Certainly, I know people who I’m quite sure are going to like this a lot less than I did, and that’s even accounting for the fact that I’m only lukewarm on it. I’ve seen some other reviewers call it “dated” and I don’t think that’s entirely fair, it’s clearly attempting to be a deliberate throwback. But being retro can only get you so far.

Will Astro Note appear in the pages of Magic Planet Anime again? Certainly, that would be nice, but unless it does more with its central romance, or really picks up the pace with regard to its comedy, I don’t see myself finishing the series. On the other hand, who knows? The closing shots of this episode promise to lean more into the sci-fi elements, which could help build Astro Note a distinct identity apart from the show it’s riffing on, and would be one way to paper over some of the elements of the series so far that don’t work.

Birds aren’t real. They’re tools of the bourgeoise.

So who can say? Maybe next week it will really blast off. Stranger things have happened, on this planet and on many others.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or other automatic tools are used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. However, some articles may have additional tags placed by WordPress. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: 30 Stops to Ikebukuro – What Even is TRAIN TO THE END OF THE WORLD?

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


Consider the train. Trains connect places, and therefore people. They shorten distances, enabling the average person to travel far and wide with relatively little of the immense pain that travel was in pre-industrial times. Nonetheless, trains aren’t cars. You can’t pick where you’re going to go; if it’s not somewhere on the line, you’re never going to get there. In this way, trains are both freeing and restrictive. They will get you where you want to go, but only if where you want to go is along a predetermined path. You know, like college.

I can’t prove it, but I have an inkling that this dichotomy was the genesis of Train to The End of The World (more snappily known as just Shuumatsu Train in some corners), or at least a small part of that genesis. Shuumatsu Train kicks the spring season off1, notably, as an original production. So we’re all on the same page, equally travelling blind to wherever this railcar happens to take us, which is an inarguable positive for something that’s as out-there as this series is already shaping up to be. It comes to us from EMT Squared, who have been around for a while, and in fact, they also made Fluffy Paradise, the first anime I covered here on Magic Planet Anime last season, but are certainly not a household name. More immediately interesting to your average anime viewer may be the resume of director Mizushima Tsutomu, an industry lifer with a truly odd body of work. What sweeping statements can you make about the guy who directed Squid Girl, ANOTHER, Witchcraft Works, most of Girls und Panzer, Shirobako, and Joshiraku, among other things? If nothing else, you can’t pigeonhole the man. For reasons like its eclectic staff, and also its rather bizarre first key visual, it was hard to know what to expect from Shuumatsu Train. In a way, that’s exciting; some of last season’s best anime were originals (I am here thinking mainly of super robot pastiche / self-effacing yaoibait comedy Brave Bang Bravern! and superpowered delinquent punch-up Bucchigiri?!), so it would be great to see things continue in that direction.

However, the main question Shuumatsu Train wants to answer, as it begins, is “what would happen if a spam pop-up ad could abduct you in real life?” This is just one part of what I can wholeheartedly call one of the absolute goddamn weirdest pre-OP introductory scenes I’ve ever seen. A girl enters a train station, en route to it’s-not-really-important, and is promptly met with cheers, because she’s the 77,777th person to enter the train station that day. This, of course, means that she is immediately snatched up by a mobile owl statue and deposited at the top of a building. There, a black-and-silver-haired huckster named Pontaro Poison implores her to push a huge shiny button labeled “7G.” 7G, as you can surely intuit, is the successor to 6G, the successor to 5G, the communication standard. 7G, the huckster explains, allows us to “instantly broadcast” our thoughts and “make visions real.” After some chiding, the girl presses the button, an the world promptly dissolves into a surreal hell of abstract buildings, psychedelic colors, and warped faces. Cut to opening credits!

When we return from the admittedly very nice title sequence, two years have passed and the world has fallen into an incredible state of disrepair, and in the city of Agano, almost everyone has turned into animals. If Shuumatsu Train makes a mistake in its opening episode, it might be that the entire rest of it takes place here, in a setting that is certainly weird but doesn’t measure up to the sheer WTF factor of those first couple of minutes. It’s actually a bit tempting to say that the series overexplains itself a bit, because, courtesy of our narrator and main character Shizuru [Anzai Chika], we get a clean rundown of what actually happened. As one might guess, the present state of the world was indeed caused by the launch of this mysterious 7G Network. Here, it happens that folks from the area turn into animals at the age of 21 and 3 months. The town’s populace thus consists of a few relatively ordinary high school girls and a whole bunch of talking animals, at least a few of whom are struggling to hang on to the mental faculties they still have, and one of them, a sun bear, briefly leaps at one of the girls in a short but fairly uncomfortable scene.

It should be noted that this is said to be a state of affairs unique to Agano. Other regions have different, and, it’s implied, more overtly dangerous problems to deal with. Also, one guy has inexplicably remained physically human but can only run around making choo-choo noises, keep him in mind.

Now, it might be tempting to claim that Shuumatsu Train has scuttled its own mysteries right out of the gate here. But given how this information is presented to us, it doesn’t seem like the series is terribly bent on building up that sort of mystery. As becomes clear over its first episode, Shuumatsu Train is an adventure series first and foremost. Despite its bizarre premise, the series makes legible gestures toward themes of growing up in an indifferent world that is spiraling into chaos, a core that resonates not in spite of being buried under layers of surreality, but because of those layers.

For example; Shizuru and her friends, Reimi [Erisa Kuon], Akira [Kino Hina], and Nadeshiko [Waki Azumi], each take a different approach to coping with the strange state of the world they live in, exemplified by the goods they ask for from a caravan of armored trucks that visits the town once a month (apparently the last remaining of what was once several such caravans). This is most obvious with Reimi, who Akira not-entirely-incorrectly accuses of being an escapist, who dresses herself in gyaru fashion and wants cute manga and anime magazines to peruse. Akira, meanwhile, is cynical and often makes rude remarks, coming off as more than a little self-important. Accordingly, the book she asks for is an occult treatise by Japanese writer Tatsuhiko Shibusawa (I can’t quite figure out if it’s a real occult treatise or not. I’ll confess to not having been familiar with the man before now). Nadeshiko, meanwhile, seems adrift and aimless, and can’t even recall why she wanted the item she receives from the delivery company, a potted sweet myrtle plant, in the first place.2

Shizuru, meanwhile, has spent the past two years searching for her missing friend Youka [Touyama Nao]. If you’d hazard a guess that Youka is probably the girl from the pre-credits scene, you’d be completely correct, and nothing so innocuous as a random scrap of newspaper used as package stuffing for Nadeshiko’s plant gives Shizuru her first lead as to where Youka might be in years. The newspaper contains a photo on its front page, and Youka is in that photo. The problem? The photo was taken in Ikebukuro, far enough away that one would need to take a fairly lengthy train ride to get there. Running to show Youka’s grandmother, now an elderly guinea pig, this photo of her only granddaughter, Shizuru narrates; the distance between train stops has gotten much, much larger since the world went haywire.

Nonetheless, Shizuru is determined, because the last time she and Youka spoke, they had the kind of friendship-obliterating argument that can haunt you for the rest of your life. Her determination only grows when she discovers an unused train resting on the tracks while having her dog sniff out a cap lost by Zenjirou [Okitsu Kazuyuki], the aforementioned train noises guy. (He manages to just barely strain the word “cap” out, the only time in the whole episode he actually talks in this form.) By putting the conductor’s cap on his head, Zenjirou temporarily reverts to a youthful, vigorous appearance, during which time he mostly rages at “Pontaro,” from which we can conclude he’s a colleague of the huckster from the opening. Or a former colleague, given how angry he seems to be at the guy. And how Pontaro gave him a lobotomy. Such things have a way of destroying friendships.

With a lead on her friend’s location and her mind made up, and now possessing the means and approximate knowledge of how to operate this metal chariot, she promptly drops out of “school” (a tiny class consisting of herself and her friends, taught by an iguana), and attempts to make for Ikebukuro solo. Of course, her friends, for all their differences, won’t stand for that, and they all end up following her as the train’s sign flips over with its destination. Suddenly, the show’s English title makes a perfect sense; Ikebukuro is not the physical edge of the planet, but it is certainly the end of the world in another sense.

I’ve said a lot about Shuumatsu Train here, but honestly there’s also a ton I didn’t mention. The visuals are largely good, although the directing is a bit strange in a way that’s difficult to precisely place my finger on. More pertinently, they’re packed with subtle details that aren’t directly pointed out. When the caravan arrives, the handler who distributes the packages to the girls has an eyepatch, and the heavily-armored trucks are covered in bloody handprints, some of which are quite clearly not human.

There are also many bits and bobs crammed into the worldbuilding; the fact that the 7G Network delivers something that may or may not be electricity, but not enough of it to reconstruct life as it was before the disaster, exemplified by the fact that the Internet and traditional phone networks can no longer be powered, but the low-power, short-distance PHS System, a delightfully obscure piece of real-world communication tech, still works. Sharpening the already-present theme of coming of age in defiance of a world going to hell, there’s a detail early on where Shizuru gets a lecture from her iguana teacher about how she can’t just fill out all of her “plans for the future” worksheets with “I Want To Look For Her,” a heartbreaking bit of miniature characterization that only hurts more as the episode goes on.

Also, the show’s character comedy is mostly pretty funny; Reimi and Akira are introduced having a conversation that feels ripped from a manzai routine. As the series goes on, and likely gets heavier, bright spots like that will become more and more essential.

All of this to say; this is clearly a show with a ton of ideas, and while it’s always a gamble as to whether or not any given work will actually stick the landing, just having so much to chew on from the first episode alone is a great sign. Wherever this train is going, I’m confident the ride will be worthwhile.


1: Technically, the season started yesterday with the premiere of Studio Apartment, Good Lighting, Angel Included. But I didn’t cover that! So we’re not counting it. 🙂

2: There is almost certainly some layer of additional symbolism here with the choice of this plant specifically, as Akira directly calls attention to it before being cut off. A quick sojourn to Wikipedia tells me that there are two plants known by this common name, one of which is psychoactive and the other of which is used in chemotherapy, among other things. I think this particular shrub is the latter. I’m not sure what conclusions to draw from that, but the fact that the show made me want to go look this up is a good thing in of itself.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or other automatic tools are used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. However, some articles may have additional tags placed by WordPress. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: Under Cover of Darkness, Enters NINJA KAMUI

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


There are a handful of interesting cultural currents running through Ninja Kamui. The most obvious has to do with its status as a Toonami co-fund—this is why it premiered so late in the season—and a likely-deliberate invocation of nostalgia for a bygone era of [adult swim]’s action programming. This might be the shallowest of these currents, however; despite the fact that it really would fit right in with [as]’ late-night action programming in the pre-Toonami revival days, and despite the fact that Main Toonami Guy Jason DeMarco has his name on it, I think Ninja Kamui would exist in some form regardless of Toonami’s involvement, and that’s because of the two other currents running through the anime.

The first is the recent spurt in ninja anime again. Not enough to be called a revival, but perhaps the tip of a trend is starting to show up. Over the past couple years we’ve had the straightforward, shonen-y Shinobi no Ittoki and the, apparently, deeply strange Under Ninja (I haven’t seen it), and now, with Ninja Kamui, we have an invocation of the grittier, bloodier ninja anime of the past. I’m probably not the first person to compare this series to ’93 sleaze classic Ninja Scroll, even if it’s only a distant resemblance. This, too, is only a loose thread, probably more indicative of something in the air than anything else. Again, I think Ninja Kamui would exist with or without those other anime. It would very much not exist, however, without Sunghoo Park, the series’ director and main creative brain.

You don’t come to this blog for in-depth production talk, most likely, (and if you do, you’re in the wrong place. I’m not the Sakugablog guy), but Park is a name that’s been well-known and in the air for a few years now. He is probably best-known as the guy who made a good chunk of the first season of Jujutsu Kaisen look as engaging and kinetic as it did. He’s since left MAPPA (I would also leave MAPPA if I were made to direct God of High School, so I get it), and founded his own studio, E&H Productions. Ninja Kamui is not the first thing E&H have done, but it is the first TV series, and thus, in a sense, their big coming-out party. Ninja Kamui isn’t based on anything, so it’s clear that this series’ story is one that somebody at E&H has had in their back pocket for a minute (I imagine Park himself, though I can’t prove that). So with that creative freedom, what did they deliver?

Well, a pretty good action series, so far.

Ninja Kamui‘s premise is very simple; an ex-ninja, our protagonist Higan [Kenjirou Tsuda] has fled to the United States to live with his wife and kid, using Cyber Ninja DisguisesTM to hide their true identities and live in relative peace. Things are great, until one day, Higan’s past catches up to him, and his wife and son are killed as part of his enemies’ ploy to ruin his life. All told, this is a pretty straightforward revenge tale of a kind that dots the whole history of the medium. While there’s something to be said for the baked-in sexism of having your handsome gruff guy protagonist survive while his family are murdered in cold blood, for the most part this is an effective setup. I don’t love Higan, but I like him, and any excuse to hear Kenjirou Tsuda do his thing for 20 minutes is a welcome one, the guy’s a fantastic voice actor.

The supporting cast is solid as well. The case of Higan’s family being murdered is taken up by the local PD, who are of course very much unequipped to handle secret ninja revenge killings. The one cop we spend any amount of time with is Mike Morris [Atsushi Ono], who, despite the obvious caveat that, you know, ACAB, I actually do kind of like as a character. He’s essentially a pretty basic genre stereotype who voices pretty frequent disbelief with the hyper-violent absurdity around him, and of course he’s the token One Good Cop (along with his assistant) in the force, the rest of which is all too willing to ignore a case they have no hope of solving and are ordered to do so by their mysterious higher-ups. He’s hardly revelatory or anything, but he’s fun.

The second episode sets up a further wrinkle in the plot, implying that the CEO of a virtual reality company is somehow tied to both the deaths of Higan’s family and goings-on in the ninja world more generally. This is a nice little twist that helps the show feel a little more distinct, and it’s not like there’s ever been a better time to make a douchebag tech guy your villain; the world is not exactly overflowing with love for Elon Musk and the like right now.

As for style, the series has what you’d expect from Park; lots of absolutely crazy action, with everything else being a little bit secondary. There are a lot of great “what, he can just do that?” moments, like Higan exhaling some kind of magic smoke that makes him grow extra arms (?!) in the second episode so he can more effectively fight off an assailant. Said assailant is disguised as an off-brand UberEats driver, because Ninja Kamui is also a little bit funny with it. The series is also not afraid to invoke truly ridiculous levels of violence and gore, which again makes it feel very much of a piece with [adult swim]’s late ’00s anime offerings. There is a very memorable bit in episode two where Higan, still recovering from the same attack that killed his family, takes out his anger and frustration by leaving one of the offending enemy ninjas tied, hanging upside-down, from the ceiling of a warehouse. Each day he spends recovering, he stabs the guy with a different knife, which he leaves inside of him after he’s done. Then, on the fifth day, when he’s fully recovered, he just lights the guy on fire! It would be downright Jack Bauer-y if he was doing this as an interrogation thing, but he’s not! It’s strictly a revenge play.

Which gets at the one problem I do have with Ninja Kamui which is that even with everything I just said in mind, it just feels a little….basic? So for all the praise I’ve given it here, I wouldn’t say I’m necessarily super invested. I think it’s being beaten out even in the fairly narrow category of “anime I’m not crazy into but which I enjoy watching for their fight scenes” by Bucchigiri?! Still, if you like by-the-book revenge thrillers, you could probably do a lot worse than this.


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All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or other automatic tools are used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. However, some articles may have additional tags placed by WordPress. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: SENGOKU YOUKO is Good, Thank God

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


You who lament this barbarous age; rejoice! Sengoku Youko is pretty good, the work of cult mangaka Satoshi Mizukami will not all be turned into anime sludge in the vein of the previous project to bear his name, the absolutely tragic anime adaptation of The Lucifer & Biscuit Hammer.

To be realistic for a moment, after that debacle, the bar is basically on the floor. Sengoku Youko is playing with a stacked deck, with both the greatly hedged expectations coming off of the last Mizukami adaptation and the fact that Sengoku Youko the manga is probably the least-read of Mizukami’s major works. (It’s the only one that I haven’t read, in fact.) As with Biscuit Hammer, it’s also on the old side to be getting an anime adaptation now, having started back in 2007 and wrapped up almost a decade later, but historical fantasy is a timeless genre on this medium, so this is not really any kind of issue. Given all this, it has a much better chance at making a favorable first impression than its ill-fated sibling. Still, even that in mind, Sengoku Youko’s premiere is just a solid slice of historical fantasy, featuring a great dynamic between its three leads, a couple funky monster designs, and some really nice action animation.

As for what it’s actually about, our setup here is pretty simple. Set in the mid-1500s, during the massively unstable sengoku period (hence the name), Sengoku Youko follows a pair of spirits, the short fox girl Tama Youko [Yuuki Takada] and her ‘little brother’ Jinka Yamato [Souma Saitou], as they fight evil.

Tama is the one with the adorable fox ears.

No, literally, that’s their whole thing, per Tama’s instruction. (Jinka, who is bigoted against the humans they often end up saving, only seems to go along with it with great reluctance.) They’re also joined by a cowardly ronin, Shinsuke Hyoudou [Ryouhei Kimura], who is transfixed by the vast strength that Tama and Jinka display, and hopes to somehow get stronger by going along with them.

The first episode sees Tama break up a bandit ring that turns out to be led by….ah, this.

This leads to some of the episode’s best visuals, in particular a very striking sequence where Tama and Jinka combine their powers, turning Jinka into a white-haired fox warrior that trounces his opposition fairly easily.

A later confrontation with a strange monster menacing some Buddhist monks ends on a cliffhanger, providing a nice hook to get folks coming back next week. That said, I have a suspicion that all is not as it appears in Sengoku Youko. Even if it stays episodic like this, it will probably be a fun time. However, given Mizukami’s usual M.O.—a desire to take genres apart and then stitch them back together in a different shape, exhibited with battle shonen in the Biscuit Hammer manga, reincarnation fantasy in Spirit Circle, and mecha anime in Planet With—I really doubt that it’ll be content to stick to any kind of formula. Time will tell, but I’m interested in finding out, and I can give this first episode no better endorsement than that.


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All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or other automatic tools are used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. However, some articles may have additional tags placed by WordPress. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: The Puzzle of PON NO MICHI

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


The seasonal anime churn is pretty accessible nowadays compared to where it was even 15 years ago. Most shows get officially brought over in some capacity and are available on some streaming site. Because of that, in the rare case where that’s not true, it’s worth seeking out the odd show with no official North American release just to see what it is that could be holding it back from an official pickup.

With Pon no Michi, there’s an obvious answer; the subject matter, a parody-heavy slice of life comedy about riichi mahjong, is very Japanese. But that said, this has never really stopped the importation of mahjong-themed anime and manga before, so it’s a bit of a mystery as to why this one specifically didn’t get picked up for the ol’ US of A, especially given that mahjong is probably having the closest thing to a Moment in recent years over here as it’ll ever have, given the recent popularity of games like Mahjong Soul. (You can try to watch it on BilliBilli’s English site, but doing so, at least in the US, gets you a “video unavailable due to the request of the copyright holder” notice. So who knows what’s going on there.)

It’s also a bit of a shame, because while Pon no Michi is probably not going to be anyone’s anime of the season, its premiere is a delightful and quirky little thing. This is the kind of low-stakes comedic fun that tends to get shows slapped with the “cute girls doing cute things” pseudo-genre label. I’ve never been fond of that term myself, but, if you wanted to apply it to Pon no Michi, it’d be hard to argue against. There are girls. They are cute. They do things (play mahjong poorly and also just generally dick around). The shoe fits. This is all also lightly inflected with Gay, as such anime tend to be. Not enough to earn it a yuri label, but enough that fans of yuri will probably have fun shipping this cast of wonderfully silly idiots. It’s a nice watch.

It’s also surprisingly odd. Elements like a magic, talking bird that claims to be a “mahjong spirit”, frequent style cuts that parody a plethora of other mahjong manga and anime, and a character who appears late in the episode to call our lead “ojou-sama” would seem incongruous in an even slightly more grounded show. But here, where the actual mahjong play is secondary to the gags, they fit just fine.

The actual plot is so barely-there that it only just counts as one. The gist is that Nashiko Jippensha [Kaori Maeda] is being too loud when hanging out at home with her friend, Pai Kawahigashi [Iori Saeki]. Nashiko’s mom kicks them out of the house and they’re forced to go be noisy elsewhere. Nashiko and Pai chill in a park for a while until Nashiko gets a convenient phone call from her conveniently off-screen father. He then tells her that he just so happens to have recently bought an old, unused mahjong parlor nearby. With her dad’s blessing, Nashiko and friends make their way there, call in a third friend—the sprightly redhead Izumi Tokutomi [Shion Wakayama]—and get to work straightening the place up so they can claim it as their own personal hangout spot.

While doing so, they stumble upon its mahjong-enabling accoutrements, including an electric shuffling table. In the process, Nashiko meets the aforementioned magic bird, who the girls name Chonbo [Akio Ootsuka], and the remainder of the episode is spent on silly nonsense.

The girls don’t actually know much about mahjong, is an important point. Nashiko knows by far the least, having apparently never even heard of it. As such, the girls’ first “mahjong game” quickly deteriorates into the lot of them being goofy, such as Nashiko declaring she’s using her “Red Dragon Beam” when slapping down a Red Dragon tile. This is also where most of the aforementioned parodies of other anime come into play (I’ll admit to most of them flying over my head, but even I know about Akagi, since it’s by the Kaiji mangaka.)

Did I mention that the rich-girl character who calls Nashiko “ojou-sama” in the episode’s closing minutes is named Riiche [Yui Kondou], after the mahjong term? Again, the show’s a bit silly.

All told, this seems like a solid pickup that one will unfortunately have to go a bit out of their way to experience. Still, for those among us who appreciate a nice slice of lighthearted comedy with a wildly catchy theme song, it might just be worth doing.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is manually typed and edited, and no machine learning or similar technology is used in the creation of Magic Planet Anime articles, with the exception of a basic spellchecker. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: Munch Squad for Monsters in DELICIOUS IN DUNGEON

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


There are two ways you can look at Delicious in Dungeon.

The first is as an adaptation of a very well-liked manga; a classic fantasy series with a notable twist and some strong worldbuilding that sets it apart from many of its peers, and a strong sense of characterization as well.

The second is as Studio TRIGGER’s first plain ol’ TV anime since SSSS.DYNAZENON three years ago.1 If we discount sequels, it’s their first since Brand New Animal back in 2020. It’s also the first full directorial turn for Yoshihiro Miyajima, who’s been part of the studio for years but has mostly done storyboarding and direction of single episodes.

Combined, these facets put Delicious in Dungeon‘s anime in an interesting (if not necessarily enviable) spot. Fans of the manga are largely going to demand fidelity to the source material. Long-time TRIGGER heads will be disappointed if the series doesn’t go all-out with explosive action animation. (This has never been all that TRIGGER is good at, but it remains the studio’s defining characteristic in the minds of its western fanbase at the very least.) So far, it seems like those who want a fairly straightforward adaptation of the manga are winning out.2 This first episode is, true to the opening chapters of the manga, fairly slow and expository, neatly setting up and then demonstrating our premise.

Speaking of, that premise is thus; some years ago, an ordinary village was disrupted by a fissure from the ground. From the fissure came the undead form of an ancient king, who promised riches to those who would liberate his kingdom from a wicked magician. The only problem? The kingdom, and the magician, are buried beneath what were once crypts and graves, but have through magical influence grown and warped into a massive, labyrinthine dungeon. Delicious thus marks itself out as one of the relatively few pieces of fantasy media that kind of cops Wizardry‘s Whole Thing but actually tries to explain how any of this—including such gamey staples as partying up, an entire ‘dungeon town’ economy, complete with in-universe resurrection in town upon dying, etc.—actually works, and integrate those mechanics into the story. From what I’ve read of the manga, it’s not always successful at this and I’ll admit to being a bit less enamored with Delicious in Dungeon than some, but it’s still a solid idea, and I give the series a fair amount of credit for trying.

As for whose story specifically we’re following, the anime opens as the manga does, with a party deep in the dungeon encountering a mighty red dragon—our second of the anime season, if you’ll remember the last article I wrote—which they cannot defeat. Of these adventurers; two quit, one, Falin [Saori Hayami], is eaten by the dragon, and the other three; Laios [Kentarou Kumagai], Marcille [Sayaka Senbongi], and Chilchuk [Asuna Tomari], are resurrected in town without a penny to their names, stuck in a pretty awful spot in that if they don’t hurry back to the bottom of the dungeon, Falin will be digested, and at that point there’s certainly no hope of resurrecting her at all. (Thankfully, we learn that dragons digest things very slowly. Still, our heroes are definitely on a clock here.)

So, with a little prodding from Laios, who seems awfully eager to try this in the first place, the party adopts an unorthodox approach which forms the crux of the whole series; they’ll live off of whatever they can procure in the dungeon, which means a whole lot of meals prepared from JRPG enemy staples like giant scorpions, slimes, ambulatory mushrooms, and so on.

The final piece of the puzzle here is the dwarf Senshi [Hiroshi Naka], who the party meets while trying (and failing) to prep scorpion meat. Senshi claims to have been researching monsters and the food that can be made from them down in the dungeon for over a decade. A fact Marcille openly questions, but nobody can fault his cooking prowess. Using the aforementioned Floor 1 mobs, Senshi is able to whip up a pretty tasty-looking stew, and goes into a fair amount of detail about how he’s doing so while he does it. This is the show’s essential appeal; the fun thought experiment of using a D&D Monster Manual as a cookbook.

All told, the premiere promises a fun if straightforward adaptation of the source material. What’s carried over particularly well is the character dynamics, which are enhanced by the obvious benefits of an anime adaptation (voice acting, character animation, and so on). Laios and Marcille have the best of it, here. The former is largely a lovable dumbass, whose fixation on eating monsters (considered strange even in-universe) contrasts with how Marcille is only going along with this very begrudgingly. Marcille’s delightfully bitchy, nervy personality in turn pings ineffectually off of Senshi, who is too busy imparting Cooking Wisdom to care. All three are rounded off by Chilchuck, who serves as a snarky sounding board in this early stage of the story.

Some specific scenes are worth highlighting; there’s a particularly great bit of comedic editing where Laios asks Marcille, just freed from the clutches of a predatory plant, how it felt. In his mind, since the plant has to secure prey (mostly animals) without making them uncomfortable enough to struggle, he thinks it probably feels pretty nice. Marcille’s reaction is this;

I didn’t edit that. (Although I will ask you to forgive my subpar screen-recording software.)

Elsewhere, the actual cooking scenes are the star of the show. This only makes sense, given that they’re the main draw of the series, and the pseudo-tart3 that Senshi prepares in the second half of the episode looks good enough that you’ll be a bit annoyed it’s not a real thing.

All told, this looks like a solid adaptation of an all-around good source manga. I fell off of said manga a while back (not for any reason to do with the story, to be clear, sometimes I just lose track of things), so it’s nice to be reminded of why I liked these characters in the first place. I think, despite the differing desires of the two main groups that are going to check this show out, everyone will walk away satisfied. There’s nothing to complain about here, and with a slated 24 episodes, the series looks to be a delicious two-cour-se meal of fun fantasy anime.


1: Cyberpunk: Edgerunners was a weird net animation thing. This series is being released by Netflix in the west as well, but as a simulcast rather than as something they directly funded, at least going by who’s listed as being on the production committee.

2: I know some folks were worried that TRIGGER might insert a bunch of extra fanservice that wasn’t in the original manga a la the Mieruko-chan anime or something. I’m not sure why people were worried about that, given that TRIGGER’s few other adaptations have been very faithful and straightforward, but if you’re in that crowd do rest assured that there’s nothing like that, here. Even in the one scene where there’d be an easy opportunity to add a bunch of extraneous ecchi material, they simply do not. Also, anyone who has read the manga knows that the character it’s horniest about is Senshi.

3: Pseudo because the crust isn’t edible. Which I guess makes it more like some kind of weird pudding?


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All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: Dragons, Tigers, and Isekai in FLUFFY PARADISE

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


A new year means a new anime season; a fresh turn of the calendar page for a medium that, at least as far as TV anime goes, often feels defined by a chase for the next big cultural touchstone. 2024 does, in fact, have plenty of upcoming anime that look pretty promising, from the battle girl android action-yuri of Metallic Rouge to highly anticipated manga adaptations like Delicious in Dungeon, to whatever Jellyfish Don’t Swim in the Night is going to be. But today, January 1st, the very first anime to make its TV debut in 2024 is this; Fluffy Paradise. It’s an isekai, of course.

It’s hard to even feign shock at the sheer deluge of isekai series anymore, and to be honest talking about the genre’s saturation has started to feel pat. (Plus, there actually aren’t that many this season, compared to some seasons still fresh in memory where we’ve had up to ten airing at once.) So let’s just skip all that and get to the actual meat of this thing, or what meat of it there is anyway. For one thing, yes, this anime starts with the obligate scene of the protagonist dying in the ‘real world.’ I have to admit I’ve always found the fact that they seem to feel the need to show this directly kind of morbid and I’ve never totally gotten over that. For another, the protagonist, in her previous mundane life, kind of looks like Kobeni from Chainsaw Man, so hey, that’s something. (And this seems like something that would happen to Beni, given her rotten luck.)

The fact that she’s a woman in the first place shouldn’t go unnoticed, either. Isekai anime remains very lopsided in terms of protagonist gender, and it is nice to see one that’s not vaguely otome game-themed have a female lead.

Our girl is of course given the obligate talking-to by a deity who offers to compensate her for her short life by fixing things in her favor in the next. He does ask for her help with something rather specific in return, though. We’re told that in this world, humans are persecuting “non-human creatures,” complete with some silhouettes of what sure look like catgirls and doggirls and such. The show doesn’t really circle back around to this until the very end of this first episode, but it is the one point that sticks out.

I say this because much of Fluffy Paradise is frankly dull. It leaves no real impression for most of the length of its runtime. We could get into specifics about its plot and characters, but they feel so cursory in of themselves that there doesn’t seem like much a point. Our girl ends up in a very plain isekai setting, born (of course) to noble parents. There, she’s given the name Nefertima—Neema [Ai Kakuma] for short—and the show begins in earnest. The main focus here is that she wished to be able to “pet lots of fluffy things” as part of her reincarnation, so animals love her, and it’s from this that the series gets most of what flavor it does have.

Anywhere she goes, Neema is surrounded by a Disney Princess-esque parade of adorable animals. This extends even to befriending the divine “sky tiger” that she meets upon a visit to the royal palace. All of this is pretty cute, but it’s not really ever more than that, and even the few moments that seem like they’re trying to be vaguely transgressive (eg. a few mildly charged interactions between the three-year-old Neema and the teenage prince) don’t accomplish even that much. They’re too tame to even be tasteless.

Meh.

Arguably, the entire point of “cozy isekai” like this is that they never do too much. But by introducing that whole Man vs. Nature element at the start, the show inherently asks to be taken more seriously than as just another lazy Monday series. I’ll also admit, I tend to be a bit harsh on this subgenre in general. I’m a longtime iyashikei apologist, and even I tend to find that most of these “slow life” shows are boring rather than actually relaxing, usually owing to their iffy visuals and general lack of atmosphere.

The production values are decent, on that note, but come with their own set of caveats. The animation is just expressive and bouncy enough that Fluffy Paradise escapes the fate of its often-stiff isekai brethren. Even then, there are still a few spots that are disappointingly under-animated, such as a magical board game played in the episode’s middle portion. You could also be forgiven for not really noticing, because the actual art direction is very drab and generic. Pity any RinBot player with this and even just a few other isekai in their back catalogue, because they’d largely be indistinguishable. This is true of the setting as well; an ISO Standard vaguely European isekai setting with basically no characteristics to set it apart from its genre-fellows whatsoever. You can get away with this if your show is funny enough or has strong enough characterization (eg. in the case of In My Next Life as a Villainness! or such), but that’s not really the case here, and the nondescript visuals contribute to an overall feeling of interchangeability. This show could’ve aired at any point in the last decade and it wouldn’t seem out of place. That can be a good thing, but in Fluffy Paradise‘s case, it really isn’t.

But, there is a silver lining here, the one spot where the show seems willing to take a risk, and that’d be the dragon.

Bro thinks he’s Smaug.

In the episode’s closing minutes, Neema’s sister summons a dragon during a magic demonstration. We’re not told anything explicitly here but she sure seems intent on killing it, until Neema rushes out to get between her sister and the dragon. The episode ends on that note, providing a cliffhanger and a (theoretically at least) solid hook to bring people back next week. If Fluffy Paradise ever breaks out of the middling isekai box—and hey, it’s happened before—it’ll be there, with Neema as a defender of the world’s wild things against her fellow humans. Still, given everything else about the first episode, I don’t have a ton of faith it’ll actually follow through on this idea.

I could sit here and wax further about how there are just so many isekai and how it’s such an over-saturated genre and so on, but at some point you just have to let things be what they are. Fluffy Paradise seems basically fine as far as such things go, but it also seems solidly “safe.” There’s nothing in here that a hundred other anime haven’t done, and if I want to put on my Nostradamus hat and make big predictions, I kind of wonder if the lower amount of isekai this season means people aren’t maybe finally getting tired of this whole setup.* Who knows.

I won’t keep watching Fluffy Paradise, personally. But for the people who do, I legitimately hope it turns out to be better and more ambitious than I’m predicting here. In cases like this, I like to be proven wrong.

(Also, the ED is a cute thing with a lovely felt stop motion visual style. That counts for something, too.)


* A very rare after the fact edit from me, here. What was I talking about when I wrote this? This season is absolutely swamped with isekai.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Seasonal First Impressions: Hell is Other People in KAMIERABI GOD.APP

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


“Be forewarned that what’s to come isn’t a very pleasant story.”

-Opening line of the series.

You really need to know what you’re doing if you’re going to open a show with a deliberate, tone-setting monologue. That quote up there is just the tip of the iceberg, where Gorou Ono [Kazuki Ura], the protagonist of KamiErabi God.app, tells us that this show will not have heroes, will not have a love interest, won’t be about friendship, and won’t “tug at your heartstrings.” It’s a tale of sound and fury signifying nothing, in other words, and he encourages us to just “laugh it off” if nothing else. That kind of acidic cynicism is certainly more likely to elicit laughter than any actual bracing for serious, cerebral storytelling in this day and age, that’s true. So is there actually anything to this show, or are we in for a hopelessly edgy bleed-out of self-indulgent misanthropy?

Time will tell, but if KamiErabi‘s first episode proves anything, it’s that it has enough style to be worth giving a shot. Although I’ll freely admit I’m not sure how many will make that leap. The show is a highly-stylized all-CG affair, and while this is not the instant death sentence it used to be in terms of general reception, it’s still a hard sell for a lot of people. Which is a shame! The show’s modeling and animation are very good, and I’d only point to a tiny handful of quibbles with regards to things like eyebrow clipping as faults in this regard. The series’ environments look stylish, too, with a minimalist color palette that tends to focus on making single colors pop at a time. Each main character has a distinctive image color, as well, both in their eyes and in underdye form in their hair. All told, KamiErabi looks pretty sharp.

What will probably draw folks in is the nebulous involvement of Nier: Automata creator Yoko Taro. I’m only passingly familiar with the man’s work, but nothing here sticks out to me as an obvious thumbprint of his. In terms of plot, what we have here is actually a fairly direct riff on the whole Future Diary1 setup. The show’s opening minutes aren’t worth recapping in detail, but they establish a few fundamentals; Gorou is a typical teenage boy, but also kind of a misogynist, and is an idol otaku obsessed with the singer Iyo Futana [she doesn’t show up in this episode, but the credits list her as played by Tomori Kusunoki, whose prior role as Love Live‘s Setsuna Yuki seems worth mentioning here] and also interested in a classmate of his named Honoka Sawa [Sara Matsumoto]. Interested enough, in fact, to be jealous when his own friend, the shark-toothed Yutaka Akitsu [Shuuichi Uchida] points out that she’s dating a soccer player. And jealous enough that, when the convenient plot machination of a wish-granting phone app pops up, much to his own skepticism, he still idly asks it to let him “fool around with Sawa-san.” Not a terribly pleasant guy, all things considered, although how much we’re supposed to identify with vs. be disgusted with the kid isn’t entirely obvious at this point (and does matter, as far as establishing the themes of this kind of story go).

Initially unbeknownst to Gorou, his wish actually was granted, and fate just so happens to convolute itself such that he can invite Sawa to a secluded location. From here, things get….weird. Weirder than they already were.

Sawa starts coming on to Gorou pretty strong, apparently influenced by the wish-granting app. Gorou (seemingly involuntarily? The visuals get confusing here) exposes himself (thankfully we don’t actually see anything), and is promptly interrupted by a literal exposition fairy named Lall [Ayane Sakura], who takes a moment to explain the whole Mirai Nikki-esque state of things.

And Gorou promptly freaks the fuck out—understandably so!—and runs away, protesting that he wants no part of this. Sawa follows him, not actually because she’s under the influence of the wishing app, as it turns out, but because she’s also one of the candidates. To prove her starter bad guy bona fides, she promptly kills an innocent bystander and uses some kind of arcane ritual to turn his corpse into a huge cleaver-sword-thing.

The battle scene that immediately ensues here is, unquestionably, the easy highlight of the episode. We can sit here and talk about the show’s actual writing (spotty) and directing (interesting but a bit confusing), but the fight here looks absolutely great, as Gorou runs through a version of the stages of grief for his own ordinary life; first just straight-up running, then trying to persuade Sawa that this whole thing is stupid, then passively accepting his impending death, and finally steeling himself to fight back (which he does with some kind of magic book, because KamiErabi is not keen on explaining itself).

At the end of all this, Sawa dies, although Gorou and his impish partner resurrect her somehow, possibly sans-memories of the whole death game thing, and the episode ends on a very sudden, uncertain note.

The specifics of any of that are deliberately unclear, and a brief explanation is offered only in passing, but the case seems to be that in return for Sawa coming back to life, Gorou is now living an altered life where everyone believes he sexually harassed her. There are a couple ways to take this. On the one hand, yeah, he’s genuinely taking the fall for someone else in a very immediate and direct way; he did literally save her life when he had no real moral obligation to do so given that she was trying to kill him. On the other, the show sure does seem to want to twist itself into knots to justify or at least excuse Gorou’s earlier, apparently completely genuine, misogynistic behavior.

Ultimately though, it’s too early to tell for certain what KamiErabi is going to do here, but the fact that Sawa hasn’t been entirely written out of the story is, itself, a good sign. Especially given that she, not Gorou, is the one with the real killer scene this episode. (Now, if the series proceeds to do nothing else with her for weeks and weeks, that’ll be another story entirely.)

All told, the gist of it is simply that while KamiErabi isn’t anywhere near the strongest premiere of the season so far, it’s definitely one of the most out-there. And while strangeness shouldn’t be confused for quality (a mistake I myself have made a few times this year), there is some inherent value in just not being afraid to get weird with it. KamiErabi is bizarre, lurid, stylish, and disturbing. And those are good words in my book, as far as evaluating an anime’s future prospects goes.


1: Many other works of fiction have since used this general premise of course, to the point that I think you could easily argue that the whole “god candidate” thing is its own subgenre within the broader death game setup. I’m not even entirely sure if Future Diary originated this trend or just popularized it.


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Seasonal First Impressions: A Lullaby For You To Come Back Home – Endings and Beginnings in FRIEREN: BEYOND JOURNEY’S END

Seasonal First Impressions is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.


Wherefore the anime elf? This often-stylized archetype has been a standby of the medium, especially in the old-school fantasy genre, since the days of Record of Lodoss War. In Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, the archetype finds perhaps its best representative in many years. Which would mean nothing were the show itself not very, very good, but thankfully, Frieren‘s premiere is not just one of the year’s best, it’s an incredibly emotional treatment of the concept, and consequently, an examination of the brevity of life itself. Of how regrets can pile up over the decades, and of the incredible importance of connecting with those who are still here while we can.

If you wanted to be pedantic, you could argue that Frieren has something of an unfair advantage when it comes to the inevitable forthcoming comparisons to the other anime premieres of this season. Its first four episodes were melded into a single contiguous block for their Japanese premiere, and even as some streaming services (both in Japan and overseas) have sliced them back up into four parts, it’s obvious that this is intended to be taken as a single chunk of narrative. Back when Oshi no Ko made the over-length premiere play in Spring, it was an act of gutsy arrogance; an announcement that this was a massive pop blockbuster event that demanded full attention. With Frieren, the aim is much quieter but no less ambitious; it is to emphasize the sheer scale of time on which this story takes place. By my count, the combined premiere contains around 5 time skips varying in length from 1 to almost 50 years. Over this loping timescale, the hero’s journey is rendered merely a prologue. By taking this approach, Frieren reveals itself to be part of a long legacy of fiction that emphasizes the transient and fleeting nature of life itself, while at the same time demonstrating how important the people we meet, the things we do, and the memories we make truly are, even if they are little more than dust on the wind.

I have to confess to being a complete and utter sucker for this particular thematic line, and you should read everything else I’m about to say accordingly. I am a kind of romantic at heart, and stories that deal with this sort of material almost always get me. Last year I praised Vampire in the Garden for a broadly similar approach, there focusing on romantic connection. The year before that, it was Heike Monogatari with its emphasis on the crushing weight of history. Further examples predate anime as a medium. It is a tale quite literally as old as human memory. People are here and then, one day, they are not. Art is one of the few ways to truly reckon with this.

As far as the actual plot, we should rendezvous with Frieren herself [Atsumi Tanezaki]. She was the wizard of an adventuring party that, as the anime opens, has just returned triumphant from defeating (of course) the Demon Lord. A fireworks show cheekily labels this joyous occasion as “Part 6” of a story that we will never get to see in full. That night, a shower of bright blue comets blazes through the sky; the fleeting fire is a symbol for the short lives of mankind, and to hammer it home, Frieren’s companion, the swordsman Himmel [Nobuhiko Okamoto] remarks that he wishes he had a better spot to see it from. Frieren offers to see the next shower with him, which Himmel recognizes but Frieren does not is far enough in the future that he will be old by then. And indeed, when we actually see that next occasion, a full 50 years later, Himmel is a hunched-over old man with a beard almost as long as the party dwarf’s. Frieren herself, of course, looks exactly the same.

Not long after that, Himmel passes away. Frieren attends his funeral service and is forcibly confronted with her own nigh-immortality. She laments that despite travelling together for a decade (a length of time she previously dismissed as a “mere” ten years), she never really knew Himmel at all, despite him considering her a close friend.

Later pieces of the premiere imply that the two harbored even deeper feelings for each other, but, really, this scene is pivotal enough that for a time, the original manga was known by its fan-scan name Frieren at the Funeral. This marks a shift in her worldview, if one she seems to struggle to actually incorporate into how she acts.

Heiter [Hiroki Touchi], the party’s cheerful (at least on the surface) cleric, struggles with the limits of his own mortality as he takes in a war orphan named Fern [Kana Ichinose]. Frieren is eventually convinced to take Fern on as an apprentice as Heiter lay on his death bed, and she is the second main character of this story.

Much of the premiere, in fact, consists of Frieren and Fern taking on various odd jobs. Frieren is rather fey in a way that elves in more poppy works tend not to be. She is an aimless loreminder, and travels throughout the land collecting spells. To her, something to heat up a cup of tea or turn sweet grapes sour is just as valuable as any great or destructive magic anyone could conjure. Similarly though, when either she or Fern are shown in deep concentration or meditation, they do so amongst nature.

That Frieren is so mindful of the natural side of spellcasting elevates it above most work that reduces magic to the merely flashy. This connection with nature becomes important when, at one point, the two search for a type of flower that Himmel was fond of to decorate a statue raised in his honor many years prior. The search takes months, and Fern, who has quickly grown into the more practical of the two, thinks it may be extinct. But sure enough, Frieren is able to find a hidden store of the pale blue beauties, and rescues the species from extinction. (The flowers are blue and seem to deliberately recall the comet earlier in the premiere; that’ll be another symbol for the tragic brevity of life, if you’re counting.)

The flowers are also important to Frieren’s actual goal throughout the premiere. As the story advances and Frieren repeatedly reflects on the departure of Himmel (and, indeed, Heiter), she resolves to retrace her adventure with Himmel nearly a century after the fact, before all sign of it fades away and is subsumed by time’s tides. This smoothing-out of all of history, good or bad, is another of the anime’s key ideas.

Another example; 80 years before the show’s present, Frieren and her companions sealed away a demon sage as part of their adventure, trapping him in stone. During the present day, when the seal begins to weaken, Frieren and her still-relatively-green apprentice are able to simply dispatch the demonic wizard with ease. The once-unthinkably destructive magic that the demon pioneered has since become a standard part of every magician’s arsenal. In some sense, his contribution to this branch of magical theory, stripped, perhaps deliberately, of any context by the march of time and tides of history, is the real “evil legacy” of the Demonic Kingdom. Of course, on the other hand, the magical analysis of this kind of spell has allowed it to be overcome in the form of the protective wards that Frieren and Fern cast to defend themselves, so it’s not all bad. Still, one must wonder if the demon sorcerer doesn’t in some sense get the last laugh here.

A similar flattening and smoothing is applied, very much in the other direction, to an utterly ancient genre-standard gag. A skirt-flipping brat 80 years in the past becomes the wizened old man leading the village where the demon is sealed in the present. Time, Frieren puts forward, takes the impact out of anything, be it atrocities or dumb pranks, for better or worse.

When the past becomes truly important, it argues, is when it is manifested in the present. A later tale sees Frieren making sure she can witness a New Year’s sunrise. Not because she has any desire to do so herself, but because she did not do this with her companions during her quest decades ago. In a sense, she’s righting a wrong; even if Fern has to almost literally drag her out of bed for this to happen.

Later on, the past meets the present in a more immediate and dramatic way when Frieren and Fern reconnect with the dwarf Eisen [Youji Ueda] (another member of Frieren’s old party, and the only one other than Frieren herself who is not deceased by the premiere’s end).

From that reunion, Frieren’s journey seems to go full circle. The late elf magician Flamme, Frieren’s own mentor, is a fascinating, looming presence over this story. She taught Frieren much of what she knows, and time and legend have ascribed to her the power to speak to the dead and physically visit heaven itself. In the end, a book she left behind sets Frieren on a new journey, once more, a “mere” ten years to the lands of the late Demon King, as she chases the trail of her dead mentor and, conveniently, still sticks to her goal of retracing her steps with Himmel’s group. Frieren’s journey begins again, a loop nearly a century in the making.

I would not be surprised if future episodes of Frieren are less direct with alluding to this particular circle. Then again, maybe they won’t be. Frieren is nothing if not holistic; no part of the premiere feels easy to divorce from any other part of it. It’s in a way criminal that I’ve held until now to speak about the show’s craftsmanship, which is absolutely superb. Keiichirou Saitou returns here, from his directorial debut with last year’s Bocchi the Rock! working in a very different mode, intent on capturing the beauty of a lived-in, weathered fantasy setting that feels utterly timeless. The series can be surprisingly funny, too, with a charming, character dynamic-based sense of humor that never overstays it’s welcome. These things add to the show’s immense capacity for resonance; be that in joy or sadness. At the end of the day, all of this is Frieren, and it all ties back to the series’ core themes. This is my life, this is your life. We are all on some journey to somewhere.


Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on AnilistBlueSky, or Tumblr and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.