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.
In its own way, the daylit parallel present-day of Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club is a utopia. In the show’s first season, from back in 2020, there were few if any conflicts that could not be solved with a song. It was a fairly far cry from the franchise’s stereotypical portrayal as being obsessed with school-in-danger plots and melodrama. Its highlights, uniformly, were livewire “music videos” that disregarded any pretense of realism for pure visual splendor. What it may have lacked in minute detail–although it could do that too, at times–it more than made up for in a truly rare dedication to pure spectacle.
Nijigasaki High School Idol Club‘s second season continues that devotion; opening as it does with a delightfully bonkers promotional video shot by the titular Idol Club. We get reacquainted with most of the first season’s highlight characters here, although the actual narrative, in as much as there is one, stays firmly centered on club behind-the-scenes-er / sort-of manager Yuu Takasaki (Hinaki Yano), and new girl Lanzhu Zhong (Akina Homoto).
Before we discuss what that narrative actually is, though, we should take the broad view for a moment. Nijigasaki is in an interesting place in 2022. The first season’s only real competitors in the idol anime format were Hypnosis Mic, which targets a different audience and has vastly different aims, the already-forgotten Dropout Idol Fruit Tart and Lapis Re:LiGHTS, and the utter train-crash that was 22/7. In the present day, though, Nijigasaki is no longer the only smart kid in the class, and there are other, equally-bright pupils of the genre present. Mostly in the form of the admittedly yet-to-premiere wildcards Healer Girl and next season’s SHINE POST, but even this season has Ya Boy Kongming!, which despite its absurd premise and smaller focus on just one singer, is very much in at least a broadly similar tonal space. There’s even a fellow Love Live season, also premiering in Summer; the followup to last year’s Love Live! Superstar. In other words; there is an actual level playing field for the first time in a while. Nijigasaki‘s status as Idol Anime of The Year is no longer a given.
In a way, the increased competition is mirrored in the first episode’s own story. What we have here is pretty simple, Lanzhu near-literally steals the show during the Idol Club’s promotional time at a school event. Her songwriter Mia Taylor (Shuu Uchida) makes a bit of an impression earlier on in the episode, but Nijigasaki is Lanzhu’s show, this week. And tellingly, it’s she, not any of our returning characters from season one, who gets the premiere’s music video. It’s a thing of beauty, and also as pompous and grandiose as any real pop diva’s videos, which, as we soon find out, fits her character pretty damn well.
The music video, it must be said, carries on the tradition of total showstoppers from season one very well. These are the episode’s centerpieces and need to convey important information in addition to being visually compelling, and Lanzhu’s knocks it out of the park on both counts. The scene transitions have her doing all kinds of random but awesome-looking nonsense like posing in a bubblebath, standing on top of a bunch of aquariums, and dancing in an elevator while wearing what looks like a borrowed Revue Starlight costume.
By this, do I mean “it has epaulettes”? Yes.
Shot made and sunk; Lanzhu is immensely talented and also hugely egotistical.
That latter point is followed up on at the end of the episode in what is the only real development of conflict here. Lanzhu basically calls the Idol Club a bunch of posers and announces her intent to enter the Idol Festival by herself and to upstage all of them. She does, admittedly, come across as astoundingly bitchy here, but it says a lot that this is what passes for villainy in the Love Live universe.
This does raise the possibility that the second season of Nijigasaki might possibly be more in-line with the melodramatic Love Live baseline than season one was, which would, admittedly, bum me out ever so slightly. But on the other hand, the Idol Club end the episode resolute that their new rival simply means they all have to work harder, and that “where dreams come true” tagline rears its head again in the premiere’s closing moments. That in mind, even if Nijigasaki High School Idol Club isn’t the shoe-in for its genre’s nebulous AOTY award that its predecessor was, it’s hard to imagine the girls won’t be alright. These are school idols we’re talking about, after all, and if my decade-plus of anime watching has taught me anything, it’s that high school girls can do anything.
The Takeaway: Obviously, you should watch season one first, but unless you just hate pop music, you should, of course, check this out.
Special Thanks: Additional Idol Research for this article was provided by Josh the Setsuna Fan, thanks Josh.
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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 is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.
Try to count them and their numbers are endless. Their visages form a parade of baby faces and expressions of bitter smarm; Kazuto “Kirito” Kirigaya, Naofumi Iwatani, Rudeus Greyrat, Takuma “Diablo” Sakamoto. They are ordinary until they aren’t. They are you, dear viewer, and all the strengths and flaws they think you have. They are everyone and no one. For a while, starting up The Executioner and Her Way of Life, it seemed as though we might be able to add a new face to that list.
But looks can be deceiving, and those paying attention will note there is no mention of a “His” anywhere the title. If our little friend there is the main character of some story, it isn’t this one. The show’s opening episode takes just enough time to lead anyone going in blind (like say, yours truly) on that I imagine not everyone will get through it. The ingredients of a deeply generic series are here; That Guy is summoned to another world, ends up in a rough situation, and is pitied and taken care of by an attractive female lead who seems destined to play second-fiddle to him.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, a general thought. It is perhaps no surprise that there are few genres of modern anime–few genres of mainstream television period–more maligned than the isekai series. And while any genre so large is bound to produce works that strike outside of the established mold, we have been living in the middle of our own Isekai World for a solid decade now. It’s not just that people are tired of the genre–although that certainly is part of it–it is that they are tired of what the genre represents. The all-shortcuts worldbuilding, the ambient misogyny, the imperialistic undertone of an average Japanese teenager being teleported to an unsullied world only to inevitably dominate it through (depending on the series) some combination of “modern knowledge” and sheer Main Character Status. The problem is far worse the lower the barrier to entry, but plenty of these have seeped into the anime mainstream for years now. Speaking personally, I ignore the vast majority of them unless I’m given good reason to not. Because of that, I’m content to generally not speak on them at all.
But I sort of have to here, because while I myself am pretty down on the genre, I don’t think I hate it nearly as much as whoever wrote Executioner does.
Credit should be given here. Having a bone to pick with something does not mean you understand it, necessarily. But in Executioner‘s opening minutes we get some expository worldbuilding that is displays an intuitive understanding with all the unfortunate implications built into your ISO Standard Isekai Story. The world of the series is frequently visited by “Lost Ones”, people who come from a mysterious otherworld called–you may have heard of it–Japan. Lost Ones are summoned via various means (a scheming king is how our Potato-kun friend ends up here), and inevitably end up bringing knowledge to the world. Our nominal protagonist assumes he can contribute to this tradition, mentioning the wonders of mayonnaise (seriously), to which his tour guide, the aforementioned female co-protagonist Menou (Iori Saeki), replies that it’s “pretty tasty.” Banter of this nature continues; he naturally assumes he will be given free shelter and money since Menou is a priestess (he’s right on the first count, wrong on the second), he idly remarks that another Lost One he saw be summoned “had big boobs”, etc.
Can’t you just feel her enthusiasm?
All the while, Menou patiently explains to him that the world is divided into three classes–Commons (ordinary people), Noblesse (nobles and kings), and Fausts (the clergy, the only one with a slightly odd name) –and it becomes rather difficult for the viewer to not notice that whatever language(s) may have once been spoken in this world, they’ve all been supplanted by Japanese.
So, you have an arrogant asshole of a protagonist who thinks he’s god’s blessing upon this wonderful world despite all evidence to the contrary, and the broad implication that at some point at least some former Lost Ones may have Done An Imperialism with the help of their powers. (Of course they gain magic powers upon being summoned to the new world. This is still an isekai we’re talking about.) But if Executioner stopped there we’d merely be in vaguely ReZero-ish territory. Instead, when Menou helps this guy figure out that his magical power is “Null,” the ability to straight-up erase anything he’d like from existence, she does this.
Again, no “His” in the title.
The lead-on is a touch obvious, maybe. I could tell even from the first few scenes that this wasn’t going to be a straightforward isekai power fantasy, but I was legitimately surprised to see our heroine–our actual protagonist, mind you–straight-up stab someone in the damn head. Really, I shouldn’t have been. It’s right there in the name; she’s an executioner.
If all Executioner had up its sleeve was this single twist, though, I wouldn’t be writing about it at this much length. The fact of the matter is that the series immediately tosses a wrench into its own assumptions as soon as she does the deed. She spares a prayer for him, proving the priestess thing as no ruse, and says that in truth, at least by her own reckoning, he did nothing wrong.
Over the remaining half of the episode, we get a good amount of insight into Menou’s character. She has dreams that imply that she herself might be from another world; a world where she’s an ordinary high school girl and has a best friend who she misses dearly. Her religious devoutness is sincere, and she chastises her clingy lesbian cohort Momo (Hisako Kanemoto) for casual blasphemy. And she has a casual, friendly relationship with one of said religion’s archbishops. (In general, this religion seems awfully Christianity-ish. But whether that’s foreshadowing or just a straight use of a pretty typical fantasy trope is hard to say at this early juncture.) All this works to establish her as someone who grits her teeth and plays this role because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, not necessarily because she finds it pleasant.
In flashback, we learn how she was brought into the fold of “the church”‘s executioners; by being the only survivor of a Lost One accidentally destroying a whole town.
There is some pretty wild imagery in here; the Lost One in question transforming into a huge giant made of white ash after being killed by a different executioner. That’d be the vindictive Flare (Yuuko Kaida), who at the conclusion of the flashback becomes Menou’s mentor.
By now, you get the idea. This is a series that wants to very seriously examine the underlying assumptions of the isekai power fantasy. But the question naturally becomes; once it breaks the genre down, what does it intend to rebuild it into? And in the answer to that question we will find Executioner’s long-term success or failure.
There is always a temptation to refer to things like this as “deconstructions” of the genres they, at least in part, are built to criticize the foundations of. I do not use that word in my writing–not without heavy couching, at the very least–but to me this series does seem to aspire to a certain casual definition of the term. I said before that Executioner feels like it was written by someone who hates isekai, but it’s totally possible that the very opposite is true. Rarely is it easier to see the faults within a genre than when you’re a huge fan of it, and lest we forget, it absolutely is possible to still use this story format for interesting, compelling ends. (Not for nothing was Princess Connect! Re:Dive my favorite anime of last season.)
At the very least, Executioner seems allergic to easy outs. In addition to our protagonist’s own judgment of her morality, the task she’s sent upon at episode’s end involves seeking out another Lost One, who seems suspiciously evocative of the girl from her dreams. (And who herself dreamed of the other world before arriving there.) The question then becomes, obviously, how hardline she’s willing to be, and what Executioner can do with whatever the result is. The episode ends on this cold confrontation, questions hanging in the air with answers far off and out of sight.
Personally, I’m absolutely fascinated by this series. (Its devastatingly kickass OP helps, too.) But I will admit that I’m something of a genre outsider. So for any true isekai fans who happen to read this, I’d be interested to see what such might think of it.
As for everyone else? It’s been a strong season already, but there’s something special about this one, I can feel it.
The Takeaway: Unless you’re simply averse to the very premise, I’d give Executioner at least a few episodes. For some of you, the mere fact of seeing Cute Anime Girls go all stone-cold killer might be enough of a draw. And hey, if that’s so, no judgment from me.
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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 is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.
Have you ever thought to yourself; “what if classical Chinese military strategist Zhuge Kongming was transported through time to the present day and became an idol manager?” Well, if you have, then you’re a very strange person. Or you’re the original writer of Ya Boy Kongming! One or the other.
Anime as a medium is sometimes underrated (or occasionally, even ridiculed) in its ability to just casually roll with absurd elevator-pitch concepts. A legend of East Asian military strategy as the manager for a modern-day pop singer? Sure, why not. It should surprise no one that the “mechanics” of how Kongming (Ryoutarou Okiayu) ends up in modern Japan are pretty vague and are glossed through briskly in the show’s opening minutes. There’s something about a dying wish for “a life without bloodshed” in his next life, but beyond that it isn’t elaborated upon much. That’s just fine, because Ya Boy Kongming! is primarily a comedy, and when it does dip into other modes it has the good sense to only touch very briefly on how the whole Samurai Jack-ian “flung into the future” thing works. There are other things to be focused on here.
Instead, he wakes up in a random alley in modern Japan during a Halloween celebration. A pair of randos drag him to a club, where one of them makes him drink some tequila. He then comes to the obvious conclusion; he’s in Hell.
It will shock you, I’m sure, to learn that I–a professional anime critic–am not really the clubbing type.
But then, he hears the voice of an angel in this clamorous and disorienting place. That voice belongs to Eiko Tsukimi (Kaede Hondo when speaking, 96Neko when singing), who quickly establishes herself as Kongming’s co-protagonist.
She ends up taking him home because he gets blackout drunk. (This is kind of crazy, if you ask me, and she seems to think so too; muttering to herself that she “must be a saint.”) The following day, she–somewhat reluctantly–helps him adjust to the modern world, all the while still being mostly convinced that he’s just a guy who’s gotten way too into method acting. (Everyone seems to think this, in fact, including Eiko’s boss, who ends up hiring him because he, too, is a Three Kingdoms-era history nerd.)
This is all pretty funny, and Kongming goes from totally lost about present-day society to reasonably able to navigate his way around a smartphone in surprisingly short order. (A joke in here even implies that he learns about cryptocurrency. Truly a terrifying thought.)
Given all this, one might reasonably assume that Kongming! is purely a screwball comedy. But while the series is definitely funny, it’s not only funny, and the fact that it understands that having a beating heart under the gags is important speaks to a certain consideration of its own goals that isn’t ever a given with anime. (Or for that matter, art in general.) The turn begins when Eiko sings a song in her bedroom, seemingly as much for herself as to comfort Kongming. (Who is, understandably, a bit blue over, you know, everyone he knows and loves having been dead for almost 2,000 years, his country having long since fallen, etc.) Eiko has a seriously powerful voice, and the fact that she’s such a good singer is hugely important here, because Kongming!, remember, is also an idol anime.
Eiko’s whole situation is given as much focus as Kongming’s own unusual circumstances. She’s a bartender and sometimes-club singer. And while her boss is a decent guy in his own way, the job itself seems pretty dead-end. This, and the fact that she keeps failing auditions, makes her consider quitting music altogether. When Kongming asks what drew her to music in the first place, we get a pretty damn bleak flashback to her high school years. The short version; she was nearly a train-jumper, until the man who’s now her boss literally grabbed her out of the way. Taking her to his club to perhaps jolt her out of the whole idea, Eiko is moved by an American guest singer’s performance. This whole idea; that music can sometimes quite literally save people, is at the very core of the idol genre, and snaps Kongming! pretty firmly into place within said genre’s modern zeitgeist.
Plus, on a basic level, all this helps Eiko feel like an actual co-protagonist instead of a backup character. But more importantly, it nails down the show’s stakes. Kongming! appears to want to be both a goofy comedy with a casually fantastical premise and a heartfelt story of a struggling musician trying to succeed in a difficult industry. That’s a hard line to tow, but at least one other idol anime in recent memory managed it. If it worked once, what’s to stop it from working again? The show’s general character helps a lot, too. In both more lighthearted and comparatively serious moments, it has a vibrancy to it that’s easy to take for granted but should always be properly appreciated when it’s there.
The episode ends with Kongming convincing Eiko to keep at it–though by phrasing it that way I’m way underselling the scene, which is legitimately heartwarming–and offering her “his services.” What services? Why, just the finest military mind of Chinese Antiquity. Turned toward helping her make it as a musician, naturally.
Grade: B+ The Takeaway: While the apparently history nerd-baiting nature of its premise may scare some off, this is a show with a huge amount of potential, and fans of “music stories” like this should definitely check this one out.
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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 is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.
“Do you want to run away from your current situation?”
And so, the season begins with a doozy.
ESTAB-LIFE: Great Escape is peculiar on several fronts. For one, it was a beneficiary of the increasingly-common practice of a pre-air screening. The first two episodes have actually been out for about a week, today merely marks the start of its actual broadcast run. (And just to clarify; to give it parity with the other anime I cover in this column, I’m only looking at episode one here.) It’s also an all-CGI affair, still novel enough a thing to be worth noting. It comes to us from Polygon Pictures, who have built their particular fiefdom of the anime industry entirely out of that sort of thing. Its director is Hiroyuki Hashimoto, whose filmography is a bit scattershot. (It’s difficult to make firm statements about a man whose greatest contributions to popular culture thus far have been directing the anime adaptions of Magical Girl Raising Project and Is The Order a Rabbit?) Nonetheless; this is first original anime, not based on any existing property. But interestingly, the “original plan” (whatever that means) is credited to someone else; Gorou Taniguchi. Who you may know as the man who directed Code Geass, perhaps the grandfather of all truly gonzo camp-fest anime of the past decade.
This is all well and good, but you’re probably wondering–even with that colorful legacy in mind–what this show is actually about, which is fair enough. Here are, with as little embellishment as I can muster, the events that unfold in the first five minutes of ESTAB-LIFE, before the opening credits even roll.
We open on a rain-drenched funeral with a priest solemnly reading out last rites for the deceased. His prayers are interrupted by a car horn, and our cast–two anime girls, a small robot, and a wolfman–pile into the Hearse, with apparent intent to drive it somewhere. We cut to a slight bit later, and our heroes(?) roll up to some kind of military checkpoint. The ball-shaped android manning the checkpoint notices that something is amiss when one of them sneezes(?!) and pulls an emergency alarm. At this, our heroes blow through the checkpoint while pursued by a cloud of armed drones, to the irritation of the third anime girl hiding in the coffin in the back seat. They arrive at a gate, which they must hack open, or something, while under fire. One of the drones shoots one of our heroines dead in the eye, at which point she bursts into water, only to reform seconds later. Her compatriot remarks that this ability of hers is useful.
It is at this point that the OP plays, and it sinks in what kind of anime we’re in for.
Eventually, a kind of context for all this does emerge. The setting is Japan (naturally), but a Japan divided into many independent city-states called “clusters” that have little contact with each other. A civilian moving freely from one cluster to another is unheard of, and met with harsh, sometimes lethal response from the “moderators” who govern these cities. That’s where our heroes come in; they’re extractors, people who spirit away citizens who are bored or disaffected with their lives.
As we establish, that’s mostly by night. By day, they’re ordinary citizens at what appears to be an all-girls school; the two male members of the main five hold down the fort at home, we must assume. The three girls are Equa (Tomomi Mineuchi), Ferres (Rie Takahashi), and Martese (Maria Naganawa). Respectively, the compassionate leader whose only desire to help out everyone the group possibly can, the cynical one who swears she’s going to quit this extractor business any day now, and the cocky, flirty one who can turn into water. (She’s a slime-person “demihuman”, as we eventually learn.) There’s a lot of great banter here, and even though I singled out Martese as the flirter it’s worth noting that all three of them kinda seem to be into each other, which is cute.
I won’t belabor the point by going over every single beat of the episode. Its main plot centers around the girls smuggling their philosophy teacher, one Yamada-sensei, out of their cluster. This eventually comes to involve, in no particular order; the man having to thumbprint a document saying that the extractor team can’t guarantee his prosperity or happiness in his new city, his being handed an emergency grenade by the team’s robot, Alga (Shou Hayami), just in case he gets captured and has to “end it all,” and Martese creating a diversion in a police station by pretending to be drunk off her ass. (This backfires. One of the cops scans her and finds out she’s a slime person, and apparently, slime people can’t have alcohol because it’s dangerous to them. The more you know!)
The actual extraction goes pear-shaped, because of course it does. Even with three girls with guns, a talking robot, and a wolfman who doesn’t talk but does have two swords (Shinichirou Miki) on your team, sometimes things go wrong. Eventually, Yamada-sensei does end up making it to his new cluster of choice; but he has to get there by rope, and it’s not after a whole lot of shenanigans involving busted elevators and improvised building-climbing. Nietzche quotes are thrown around.
Top to bottom, the whole episode is also stuffed with great banter and surprisingly good little character moments. (Especially in the animation department, which is far from a given in any anime.) That, combined with its generally oddball nature and focus on “escape” as a main theme makes it remind me less of any recent seasonals and more of that Idolmaster short I covered a few weeks ago.
All in all, it’s hard to say where, exactly, ESTAB-LIFE is going, but it’s certainly going somewhere, and the ride seems worthwhile. Keep an eye on this one.
Grade: B The Takeaway: Interesting character designs, great banter, an intriguingly odd plot, and a general sense of WTF-ness combine to make this an early standout in the young season.
An administrative note: I alluded to this in the body of the article itself, but I have basically no clue what’s going on with this thing’s schedule. The regular broadcast apparently starts today, but on some JP services it’s apparently going up in three batches of four episodes each. And I’ve seen conflicting reports as to what schedule streaming services available in the US will be following. Personally, I’m probably just going to watch it week by week like any old seasonal. I hate to think that an unorthodox release schedule might hurt Estab-Life‘s chances at gaining an audience, though.
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category.
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.
The Frontline Report is a weekly column where I summarize my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week. Expect spoilers for covered material.
Hi folks! No fancy lead-in this week, just two solid writeups for you and some links to other stuff. Enjoy.
Seasonal Anime
Princess Connect! Re:Dive Season 2
“The advancing hands cannot be turned back.”
If you only ever liked Princess Connect for its softer merits; the warm character interactions, the charming comedy, etc. I can imagine finding the past two episodes disappointing in a strange sort of way, for the simple reason that they’ve been the heaviest on the show’s capital P Plot that Princess Connect has ever gotten, and that’s not a development that looks to change any time soon.
Two weeks ago we saw Omniscient Kaiser kill Labyrista and claim her powers. Within the text of the show itself, the rules that the Princess Connect universe operate on remain somewhat fuzzy, but it wasn’t hard to tell that this was a bad thing. The episode was huge and sweeping; a clash of cosmic forces conjuring gigantic CGI labyrinth-spheres and the obligatory near-defeat of Kaiser herself. As villains do, she won with a dirty trick; teleporting in her underling, Karyl, to serve as a human shield.
Labyrista’s defeat has probably rendered Kaiser the most powerful being in the whole setting. Given that she’s been the lurking broad-scope villain of the entire series so far, that’s not great. What’s worse is what she does to Karyl, who is here empowered with a magic mask and rendered Kaiser’s all-too-willing puppet. If Karyl has ever had a genuine, serious character flaw, it is her belief in Kaiser, a sort of surrogate mother figure whose approval she desperately seeks. That need for approval turns her into little more than a weapon for Kaiser in this past week’s episode, where she unleashes absolute terror on the people of Landosol. Why she suddenly commits so hard to being Kaiser’s attack dog is left ambiguous, although I side with the theory I’ve seen floated around social media. Karyl feels guilty about indirectly causing Labyrista’s death has left her feeling as though she has no choice in the matter. (Perhaps she believes that if the rest of the Gourmet Guild found out, they’d turn on her as well, leaving her well and truly alone.)
As the Gourmet Guild struggles to piece together what’s going on, we get a lot of cameos from supporting characters from previous episodes. Most of these are pretty inconsequential, although Yuni contributes to the plot in a huge way at the episode’s climax.
The bulk of the episode’s runtime consists of a smattering of characters fighting off Kaiser’s shadow army as she uses Labyrista’s powers to trap the entirety of Landosol in a huge metal dome. The episode is very effective at conveying a sense of impending doom. Really, it’s remarkable how far Princess Connect has come. There was always a wider story slinking around in the background, all the way from the first episode of season one, but to see all those hints and plot points be forged into a proper Epic Fantasy Story is pretty amazing. Despite this, the story’s bones–VRMMO genre, light novel, and gacha game tropes entering their second decade of dominance right now–ensure that it could never exist in any other medium. Princess Connect is damn good, and it’s also very much an anime.
Of course, this properly epic scale is also very effective at making Kaiser seem like possibly the worst woman to ever live. Sacrificing the souls of your entire kingdom is some classic evil overlord shit, and whoever boarded her expressions in this episode worked damn hard to make sure we know that she’s enjoying every minute of it.
Perhaps the worst of her offenses here is what Kaiser does to Karyl once she stops being a willing part of her plans. Pecorine eventually confronts Karyl.
Initially, Karyl commits to the fatalism–that’s where this subheading’s quote comes from–and begins launching barrages of magical energy at the townsfolk. But it’s hard not to notice that she doesn’t actually kill anybody. She can’t bring herself to do that, even this late in the game.
Kaiser, naturally, has a trick up her sleeve. Be it a result of the mask, Karyl’s recent empowering, or something else entirely, Kaiser extends literal puppet strings from her hands; forcing Karyl to resume firing on innocent townspeople as she begs Kaiser to stop. It is probably the closest Princess Connect has ever come to being genuinely hard to watch.
It’s here where Yuni comes in, using her patented um….turn-rocks-into-walky-talkies-and-also-projectors magic to blow the whistle on Kaiser. Earlier in the episode there’s a scene where she and some of her assistants piece together the identity of the real Princess Eustania, the one who should be ruling Landosol. We, of course, have known for an entire season who that is; Pecorine.
It’s on that note; Kaiser’s deception revealed, Karyl hanging in the sky begging for help, that episode ten comes to an end. Who knows what awaits our heroes in their final, darkest hour?
Ranking of Kings
It’s been quite a long time since we’ve seen young Prince Bojji and his merry band on this blog. But, much of the reason I stopped covering Ousama Ranking for a while was simply that the series has not fundamentally changed at any point, really, since its premiere. It started as a modern spin on classic fairy tale-style fantasy. It’s still that, just with a lot more players now, and with everyone having complex, sympathetic motivations.
That may sound like a good thing. It may be a good thing. But it makes discussion of Ousama Ranking hard, at least for me. I would say, broadly, that Ousama Ranking has only one real problem, and it’s an analogue to an issue often seen in editing. Many series, especially those short on actual plot, employ a tactic of rapidly cutting between different scenes. This produces the illusion that more is going on than actually is. It’s a clever way of disguising a general lack of forward narrative motion. Anime guilty of this particular shortcut usually have a beginning and ending mapped out, but everything in between is essentially guesswork.
Ousama Ranking, on the other hand, has almost the opposite issue. So many plot details have been sprinkled through the series; the demon, the titular Ranking of Kings itself, the woman in the mirror, the war against the Gods, etc. etc. etc. etc. That when the time comes to actually tie up all these plots, it does feel a little like the series is rushing through them. Plot twist comes after plot twist. Sympathetic backstory after sympathetic backstory. It can be thrilling, but also exhausting. I can imagine someone really liking this about the series and conversely, I can imagine it completely ruining the show for someone else.
I fall somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, lest it sound like I’m being too negative. But it is notable that in just the most recent episode alone (22), we get the near-instantaneous resolution of the “Miranjo sentenced to an eternity of suffering” plot from the episode before that. Things are, basically, resolved in a poof. Similar examples recur throughout the show’s recent run. The most glaring example being Daida’s rather inexplicable decision that the solution to Miranjo’s lingering woes is to…marry her?
We could excuse this, if we wanted to, as Ousama Ranking glomming to old fantasy tropes. Or even, alternately, an in-universe folly of youth (although the show doesn’t treat it that way, certainly). But it does make the show feel strangely rushed despite its many other strengths.
And so as not to end on a down note, we should talk about those strengths. In spite of any other complaints, it’s inarguable that Ousama Ranking is a visual stunner. This past episode is not quite the visual feast that episode 21 was, but it’s still incredibly impressive. Even if Ousama Ranking‘s story issues were much more serious (and I fear I’ve perhaps overstated their importance here), it’d still be well worth watching for its production alone. Its characters also largely remain excellent, with only one or two possible exceptions. Queen Hilling gets a great moment in this episode where she tries to put on a serious, stern face when congratulating her sons, only to break down crying about halfway through. Scenes like this help the series feel alive in a way that offsets some of its writing issues.
Elsewhere, the tale of King Bosse trading Miranjo’s soul and the strength of his then-unborn son for more power is told with suitably epic visual storytelling, with the presentation of one his mightiest opponents, a literal god, being the highlight. (Bosse himself, arguably, is one of the aforementioned exceptions. Dude just isn’t great.)
It helps, also, that the series seems to be heading in a more focused direction as it nears its close. The final two episodes promise to return to the Ranking of Kings system that gives the series its title. As the episode ends with Desha accepting his ranking as #1 and descending into the vault that holds the mysterious treasure accorded to those who earn that title.
Ousama Ranking, certainly, remains compelling, in spite of anything negative I’ve said here. I am not sure if I’ll cover the finale (though I’d like to), but I can safely say that it’s a good series and worth watching, regardless of if it sticks the landing or not.
To paraphrase myself in a Discord conversation from yesterday, I really like some parts of My Dress-Up Darling and really dislike some other parts. This episode was about 50/50.
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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.
This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.
This review was commissioned. That means I was paid to watch and review the series in question. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by Rumi. Thank you for your support.
“Yuki’s pretty amazing. With her around, we can always pick ourselves back up.
No matter what.”
The real giveaway is in the soundtrack. The canned, cheery music so common to the school life comedy genre drops out and is replaced by dead silence and howling wind. That’s the first real clue that something isn’t as it seems. Others arrive in carefully orchestrated, almost subliminal drips. A shot of a seemingly normal school hallway with the windows broken, students who seem rooted to their classrooms, and a vague sense of unease that surrounds the actions of every character but one.
By now, the twist at the end of the first episode of SCHOOL-LIVE! (Gakkou Gurashi domestically, and throughout the rest of this piece) is so well known that its reputation precedes the series itself. This is no comedy. A zombie apocalypse is upon the state-of-the-art school building that our four main characters, out of necessity, make their home. Possibly the whole world, too. That first episode is a masterful little clockwork of suspense building, but if the show’s entire legacy were staked on shock value alone, it would not survive in the popular conscience nearly seven years after it premiered. 33 other TV anime served as Gakkou Gurashi‘s co-seasonals in the summer of 2015. Of those, about a dozen persist in the collective cultural imagination. A work’s quality cannot be judged alone on whether or not people remember it, but it’s truly rare for something without some kind of spark to it to persist for that long. Gakkou Gurashi tapped into something. But what?
My pet theory is that as early as its second episode, Gakkou Gurashi draws on a deep, yawning sadness that resonates with those young enough to relate directly to the show’s cast on up. The melancholy, the anxiety, and the outright dread that come with knowing that who you are now is not who you always will be is deeply rooted in modern culture. If not a universal fear, it’s at least up there. Apocalypse fiction is an extremely direct expression of that worry, and after Gakkou Gurashi rips the Band-Aid off at the end of its first episode, it keeps hammering that button, and it’s never less than effective. Just last year, overlooked OVA Alice in Deadly School succeeded in doing much the same with some of the same methods.
Gakkou Gurashi pulling that same trick for a good five hours could conceivably become a slog. But it never does, because there is some sincere levity cut with all this tension; lighthearted moments colored by the characters’ friendships-of-necessity, or when the series indulges in traditional school life anime tropes, even sometimes in the panic-giggles induced by some of its dark comedy. But all of that only serves to ratchet the tension back up when things get more serious again. This is a show that leaves you with a gnawing fear in your stomach between episodes. There’s a rawness to it.
None of this would mean much if the show’s characters weren’t compelling. But each of them is. The titular School Life Club are a fantastic cast. We have Yuki (Inori Minase, who, among many other things, later appeared in Girls’ Last Tour as Chito), Kurumi (Ari Ozawa, who last year played Elisha in BACK ARROW), Yuuri (Mao Ichimichi, notable for voicing Pecorine in Princess Connect! Re:Dive this very season), and Miki (Rie Takahashi, who just a year after this series aired would land the role of Megumin in Konosuba), their teacher and club advisor, Sakura, AKA Megu (Ai Kayano. Perhaps you know her as Kirika from Symphogear?), and finally their cute little corgi, Taroumaru. (Emiri Katou, voice of Kyuubey.)
These characters largely defy easy archetype pigeonholing, but I’ll be as snappy as I can. Yuki, the heart and soul of the group, is burying repressed traumatic memories under her happy-go-lucky outer shell and spends much of the series knee-deep in delusion. Kurumi is the tough one; by necessity, not choice, and wields a gardening shovel she uses to fight off zombies when necessary. She also has what looks to my armchair-seated eye like an untreated case of PTSD. When it flares up, colors wash out in real time and her heartbeat is turned way up in the audio. Yuuri is the “club president,” and the older sister sort. She takes care of the planning and tries her best to keep everyone else in line. Beneath that facade, it’s her who cracks the worst when push comes to shove. (No one can bottle all that responsibility alone, Yuuri.)
Miki, rescued from a nearby mall, is the most reclusive of the four and takes some time to adjust to the others’ personalities. Megu tries very hard to be the best teacher to her remaining students she can be. Taroumaru is a good boy, as all dogs are.
The show’s structure is fairly simple for most of its runtime. The School Life Club must attend to some task, either something fairly serious like a supply run or some whim of Yuki’s. They do it, and along the way fun is had while, simultaneously, the knowledge that this can’t last forever looms large. It’s a difficult dichotomy to make work, but Gakkou Gurashi manages it, and it’s the show’s main strength.
One of the traits that separates art that is merely very good from that which is great is, in my mind, applicability. A story’s ability to resonate beyond the context in which it was originally written. In the seven years since Gakkou Gurashi first aired, the global climate crisis has escalated to the point of emergency. To the extent that even talking about it in contexts like this can feel like a cliché. Gakkou Gurashi so expertly plays that single chord of apocalyptic despair that when it strikes a nerve, the resonance is as deep and dark as an abandoned well. The “zombies” (or whatever they are) are a formality; they’re everyone who’s not looking out for us, either by malice or by being beaten down by the weight of it all. Our collective abusers and our fellow victims united into a single shambling mass of consumptive darkness.
This is to say nothing of any number of other global crises to which one could easily apply the zombie apocalypse metaphor. Some of the writing in the series would seem rather on-the-nose if it were penned today.
It’s pure projection, of course. But in hindsight, it certainly can feel like the “zombie fiction” boom that Gakkou Gurashi came about at the end of was prescient; the skeletal hand of the Grim Reaper knocking on our collective door. Going about our daily lives in spite of it all, we can all feel like Yukis in our own way. If she’s delusional, maybe she’s no more so than we are.
Perhaps that’s a bit heady, and one would prefer to look at Gakkou Gurashi as an outgrowth of or reaction to the school life genre. The endless everyday that defines that sort of work turned vile and strangling. Consequently, I sometimes see Gakkou Gurashi spoken about as though it is a singular, weird blip in modern TV anime history. I have seen it referred to as an attack on (or worse, a “deconstruction of”) that genre, and I’ve seen it criticized as being all shock value. (And to avoid seeming like I’m talking strictly about other people, I naively believed some of this myself when the series was new. It is a part of why it’s taken me so long to watch it.)
For my money, none of these things could be further from the truth. Gakkou Gurashi is a comparatively early example of a strain of anime that would come to define some of the very best of the 2010s. “Post”-school life work like A Place Further Than the Universe, O Maidens in Your Savage Season!, and even Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! It is distinguished from these far more grounded stylistic cousins by its apocalyptic setting. But if one views the slice of life genre as an organic, living thing, one can imagine Gakkou Gurashi as a sort of evolutionary defense mechanism. A warning: “Our daily lives are under threat, here are the stakes.” (If you wanted to, you could also probably draw a line backwards connecting it to other fare that combined a high school setting with supernatural elements and a broadly similar tone space. Say, Angel Beats!)
With all this in mind, Gakkou Gurashi is not without light. The School Life Club’s rare excursions outside their school, while dangerous, contain moments of joy and human connection they would never have if they stayed locked up. This is how they meet Miki in a flashback that spans most of episodes four and five. The original School Life Club trio is able to liberate Miki from her comparative isolation. Miki’s own history with her friend / maybe-more Kei–who struck out on her own out of frustration sometime before the events of those episodes–serves to frame all this. Both Miki and Kei eventually choose freedom over isolation, but because they don’t do so together, they lose each other. It’s a complicated tangle of cutting loss and the balm of simple contact, and it’s remarkable how well Gakkou Gurashi can walk that tightrope, and how well it continues to walk it as the series goes on. Nothing is without sacrifice, but at the same time, it tells us, no situation is truly hopeless, either. This is, I would in fact argue, Gakkou Gurashi‘s core thesis.
This is best expressed with Yuki. Yuki is, by any conventional definition, extremely mentally unwell. But while Gakkou Gurashi sometimes seems like it might play this for shock, it never really does aside from arguably that first episode swerve. Everyone who actually gets to know Yuki–including Miki, who is initially extremely offput by her mannerisms–finds her a necessary ball of joy in a world that sorely needs it. Her friends in the club indulge her tendencies where they’re harmless and curb them on the occasion they cause real trouble.
She is never treated as lesser than any of the other characters simply because she has specific needs, and when at the series’ end she becomes more lucid it feels less like some part of her is being erased and more that she has simply grown as a person. She confronts a truth she’s been hiding from; the fact that Megu sacrificed her life to save the School Life Club some time ago, and reconciles with the state of the world in general. A lesser “zombie apocalypse survivors” sort of story would frame her as a burden. But Gakkou Gurashi never even suggests it. The one and only time she ever voices the concern that she might be weighing the others down, she’s immediately corrected by all present. Yuki is a symbol of a hope placed not on some distant Other coming to the rescue, but in each other, a slice of life lead girl slipping that genre’s bounds to become, in her own way, a genuine hero.
In general, the girls’ relationships with each other feel as authentic as any friendship from a “normal” slice of life series. And that’s the thing, despite what it may be easy to assume, Gakkou Gurashi still is a slice of life series. Decent chunks of even very serious episodes are spent on fairly mundane activities. Some whole episodes are devoted to them, such as when the club gets the idea to send out letter balloons in episode seven. Or episode nine, where Gakkou Gurashi manages the impressively absurd feat of squeezing an egregious pool episode into its remaining runtime, complete, at least in the fansub I watched, with a random reference to the then-recent Kill la Kill. (It’s easily the least essential episode of the whole show, but even something that nakedly cliche is a welcome breather between what comes before and after.)
In its final stretch, the girls of the School Life Club are thrust into crisis. Zombies break through the school’s barriers. Kurumi gets bit. It’s bad. If Gakkou Gurashi were the shock schlock people (including my younger self) have mistaken it for at times, it would be very easy for the series to end on a down note to be “shocking.” Instead, we get a miracle. Yuki gets the idea to dismiss the zombie horde via the school PA. Improbably, it works.
The scene falls apart in the retelling, but in the moment, it’s magical. There are losses (poor Taroumaru really looks like he’s going to pull through, but he doesn’t), but the School Life Club carry on. Maybe all of this is helped somewhat by the fact that I binged the entire series in only two sittings. Maybe it is also helped by my new HRT regimen making me even more vulnerable to sappy bullshit than I already was. But I like to think I’d have bawled like a baby regardless. The show is as good at tugging your heartstrings as it is inspiring dread. Not many anime can claim that.
Gakkou Gurashi can get away with that heartstring-pulling because by the time it happens, we’ve already spent some five hours with these characters. We have seen them not just survive but thrive in a world that has well and truly gone to shit.
And that difference, the distinction between simply surviving and truly living, is what that line in the maddeningly catchy OP theme means. “We have dreams like we’re supposed to.” Different dreams, maybe, than the ones we had when we were younger, but dreams, nonetheless. Gakkou Gurashi‘s final shot is the School Life Club, having held for themselves a “graduation ceremony” now that hiding out in the school is no longer tenable, flying down the empty highway in Megu’s old car, seeking to link up with other possible survivors. The city they drive through is in ruins, but there’s barely a hint of melancholy. The future is theirs to seize.
Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live.If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directoryto browse by category.
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.
This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.
This review was commissioned. That means I was paid to watch and review the series in question. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by The Mugcord Discord Server. Thank you for your support.
Who are movies made for?
The pop media machine is, by all accounts, an absolutely insane thing to spend your life involved with. Across all media, all over the world, the roiling mass that is the entertainment industry stamps out new books, albums, television shows, and, of course, movies. This complex, if working in its most cynical mode, can produce truly horrible works of profound soullessness. At its best, though, it can allow work that is beautiful, brilliant, and life-affirming to reach a mass audience. Pompo: The Cinéphile, the first theatrical release from Studio CLAP, is neither of these things, but it’s closer to the latter than the former. Being a movie about movies, that’s a good thing.
Pompo is a complicated and sometimes frustrating film, not a rare thing for art about art. It clearly has its heart in the right place, but there are a few key issues that prevent it from really rising to the level it clearly aspires to.
But before we examine Pompo in detail to hash out why that’s so, it would perhaps be best to take the measure of our cast. Starting with Pompo herself.
The eponymous Joelle D. “Pompo” Pomponette (Konomi Kohara, probably best known to readers of this blog as either Cure Milky from Star Twinkle Precure or Chika Fujiwara from Kaguya-sama: Love is War!) is not actually the main character of Pompo: The Cinéphile, but she is important. A filmmaking prodigy superproducer, Pompo has, at the time our story begins, funded a string of extremely cheesy but highly profitable B-Movies after being bequeathed a fortune from her grandfather, who is also a (retired) film producer. Pompo is a mercurial little ball of fairy dust, and she’s quite endearing.
Her movies seem pretty great.
She also has an intern / sort-of apprentice, Gene Fini (Hiroya Shimizu, in his first major anime role), who serves as our real main character. Gene, who looks like the concept of sleep deprivation given human form, serves as an embodiment of all of Pompo‘s big ideas about the purpose and nature of human artistic achievement.
Rounding this out is our secondary lead, Natalie Woodward (Rinka Ootani, also in her first major VA role), an aspiring actress who Pompo sees some potential in, and who eventually becomes the subject of a script she writes. She gets probably the least screentime of all the major characters, which is a bit of a shame, because her can-do attitude is charming. Importantly, she’s also taken under the wing of Mystia, a veteran actress (Ai Kakuma, who, among a number of other roles, was Aki-sensei in last year’s Sonny Boy).
The script written for her is quite important. Pompo pens it with Natalie and a retired, world-famous actor, one Martin Braddock (industry legend Akio Ōtsuka) in mind. She doesn’t want to direct this film, though. That falls to Gene.
All of these characters are fun, including Gene, who avoids most of the pitfalls associated with being a slightly dull male lead. He falls backwards into directing a huge movie and initially he is left wondering why, exactly, he’s agreeing to all this. But subtle-unsubtle tricks like his pondering who–if he had to pick one person–he would shoot the move for, and the scene going out of focus except for Pompo in the background, better explain his feelings than he himself can.
But yes, this script of Pompo’s forms the film-within-a-film Meister, about a disaffected, jaded former musician regaining his love for music after he meets a young girl in Switzerland. The shooting of Meister, consequently, is the backbone of Pompo‘s plot. There isn’t much in the way of traditional conflict in this part of the film, as Gene’s struggle to form his own directorial vision takes up the bulk of the screentime. This treats us to engaging details that draw attention to the serendipitous side of the filmmaking process. Say, one of Meister‘s scenes changing mid-shoot because a fog bank rolls in, or the cast collectively coming up with an entire extra scene in order to take advantage of a chance rainstorm.
This is all visually lovely too, and Pompo deserves serious credit for its utterly gorgeous backgrounds, which really capture the serene majesty of the Swiss alps. Or, both earlier and later in the film, the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. (Sorry, “Nyallywood.”)
Indeed, speaking purely from the visual angle, Pompo is downright fantastic. It’s edited like a whirlwind and is just about allergic to regular scene transitions, subbing in unusual ones whenever it can. (It’s particularly fond of a three-part punch-in effect, which frames both the departing and arriving scene in interesting fashion.) Very little of Pompo is content to frame a shot simply. Not when there’s some unusual, stylish angle it can use instead.
There are also some cool scene tricks, my personal favorite being the way it sometimes frames a character reflecting on a conversation as said conversation playing out on a film screen while the character “watches” the memory. A motif of film reels, both literal and symbolic, also runs through movie, giving it an extra bit of visual continuity. Similarly, characters’ eyes literally glow when they’re displaying passion or raw talent.
Despite the film’s own focus on live action material, there is also the feel of a great anime film here, too. The animation is highly expressive, with Pompo herself getting a lot of the best cuts. She will literally bounce into a room, inflate like a balloon when complaining about how movies over 90 minutes are “bloated,” and her Play-Doh ball of a face gives us the movie’s best expressions.
Once we move away from production strengths though, things get more complicated. The characters and visual style are great, and it’s because of the film’s brisk pace none of that wears out its welcome. But we at some point need to discuss what Pompo: The Cinéphile is actually about, and it’s here that things get a little dicey.
You see, Gene’s movie eventually runs into production issues because of Gene himself. He spends weeks editing it but just can’t seem to make it his own. (This, as Pompo itself points out, is why directors rarely edit their own movies.) Eventually, he decides that he needs to shoot an additional scene. Pompo is not happy about this! An additional scene this far after shooting has wrapped is a huge undertaking. She rightly raises the objection that it requires a lot of expense, it requires getting the cast and crew back together, and so on. Gene is undeterred, and Pompo eventually caves, causing the movie to miss an initial premiere. In turn, this causes a number of important financial backers to withdraw their support.
This problem is eventually rectified by the intervention of minor character Alan Gardner (Ryuuichi Kijima, active in the industry since 2007, and for whom playing roles like this seems to be a recurring thing) who convinces the massive bank he works for to finance the movie. It’s a truly ridiculous sequence of events that involves, among other things, giving a financial presentation while secretly livestreaming said presentation, his own efforts to interview Meister‘s entire cast and crew, and also-secretly setting up a Kickstarter for all of this.
It’s ridiculous, and if it involved anything but a bunch of bankers, I’d probably like it a bit more for that very reason. I do still respect the sheer audacity of dropping this into your movie about why movies are important, but it does not fit at all.
When all this financing (complete with a documentary on the making of the film!) is still not enough, Gene ends up in the hospital from overwork, and it’s here where Pompo truly hits a wall. Overwork is an utterly massive problem in the entertainment industry, especially the anime industry. While I have no reason to believe that Studio CLAP is guilty of the same practices as some of its contemporaries simply because it’s an anime studio, the result of this whole development being Gene ripping out his IV and dragging himself back to the editing room with everyone’s only-slightly-reluctant support just scans as a little weird. And maybe more than a little tone-deaf. It’s even weirder when Gene starts ranting about the things he’s sacrificed to make his great film. In a scene that is supposed to be uplifting, it instead feels like the ravings of someone who desperately needs to be pulled away from his work for a while.
This is all even odder when considering Meister. In that film-within-a-film, that very same stepping away is what allows the main character, Dalbert, to regain his own love of music. Indeed, he rediscovers a love of life itself in the mountains of Switzerland when he meets Lily (Natalie’s character). Gene has no comparable experience, because he’s new to the industry, and by his own admission, his life has been rather uneventful.
Gene and Dalbert are not similar characters, despite the film’s heavy-handed attempts to conflate them. It’s a truly strange note for an otherwise good movie to stake its emotional climax on, and it doesn’t do much to convey the film’s intended thesis of art as a universal conduit for human empathy and resonance. Consequently, when the final scene hits and Meister sweeps the “Nyacademy Awards,” it comes across as masturbatory and unearned.
All of this leaves Pompo as, frankly, a mess, in thematic terms. Beginning with some weirdly cynical moralizing earlier in the film about how happy people are less creative and peaking with that fictional Oscar-sweep at its end. It almost makes Pompo seem like the victim of the very same conceptually fuzzy editing-room chop-jobbery that its final act depicts. Maybe it was! It’s hard to know.
Comparing the film with its source material, the still ongoing Pompo: The Cinéphilemanga, raises another possibility. One gets the sense that director Takayuki Hirao may have wanted to tell a more grandiose story than the one that the comparatively modest and more comedic manga presents. If so, this may be a simple case of a director being a poor match for the source material. It is possible to build a gripping story out of the rough struggle to make art that truly expresses oneself. But Pompo is not that story. Trying to force it to be such drags the film’s final act down quite a bit.
Does all this ruin the film? No, because it remains an engaging watch throughout on its production merits and because the characters are fun to keep up with. (Even at its very end, it pulls off the cute trick of itself sticking to Pompo’s 90 minute rule. Not counting credits, the film is exactly 90 minutes long.)
So, Pompo: The Cinéphile remains a perfectly enjoyable flick in spite of its issues. And I’m excited to see what Hirao will do in the future, if this is indicative of a visual style he intends to keep pursuing, especially if he’s given a more fitting story to work with. In general, this is a very promising start for CLAP, marking as it does their big international coming out party.
But all of this faffing about with the film’s message does kneecap Pompo as a coherent statement, firmly marking it as “just” a pretty good movie instead of a truly great one, which is a bit of a shame.
Still, there is a place for pretty good movies. As one, Pompo is certainly worthwhile. Don’t expect to add it to your classics shelf, but it’ll sit with the rest of your Blu-Ray collection just fine.
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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 owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.
Let’s Watch is a weekly recap column where I follow an anime for the course of its entire runtime. Expect spoilers!
I’m revealing my age here, but humor me for a moment. Are you, dear readers, familiar with classic party rock track “Centerfold” by The J. Geils Band? (If not, Stereogum’s Tom Breihan, a critic I admire very much, wrote a pretty great article about it as part of his pretty great-in-general column The Number Ones. You can consider this a recommendation.)
That song is a boiling soup of emotion. The song’s narrator finds out his high school crush poses in an adult magazine now and he’s hit by some admixture of guilt and desire. “Centerfold” doesn’t sound guilty, though, it sounds celebratory, from its production to the nagging “nah-nah nah nah nah nahs” in the chorus. Any actual negative feelings in the song are washed away by its presentation. It all sounds like a good time, and because pop media’s presentation informs its message, it is a good time.
I bring this up because, in a very roundabout way, that’s also, in a very broad sense, sort of what I think of My Dress-Up Darling. The situation presented in its second episode, “Wanna Hurry Up, and Do It?”, would be, in a series that were even slightly more connected to the real world, appalling. Marin completes her strong-arming of Gojo into becoming her cosplay outfitter. Along the way, she both rambles at him about eroge games and eventually shows up at his house unannounced to make him take her measurements. (That’s what the episode title is referring to. What did you think it meant?) But the presentation sells it as a good time, at least in a comedy anime sort of way. Dress-Up Darling‘s second episode is almost all comedic, and it leans heavily into the series’ ecchi side. (If I’m giving every episode an Egregiously Horny Score out of 5, we can call this a solid 4.) Which isn’t to say it’s devoid of more substantial character moments, as there are a few, but let’s just say this is an episode where I had to be judicious about what to take a screencap of.
But let’s talk about our actual characters for a moment here, because it’s Marin who launches this whole sequence of events to begin with. One of the things that makes Marin seem like a real character as opposed to a cardboard cut-out is that she’s extremely assertive. Honestly a little too assertive, to the point of obliviousness, which is where a lot of the comedy here comes from. The episode opens immediately after the closing scene of last week’s, and it’s in the very same room where the two have basically just met that Marin goes into a bit more detail about this character she’s trying to cosplay. For one, her name is Shizuku-tan. She’s the gothic type.
At one point Marin refers to the chest area of Shizuka’s outfit as a “boob bag,” which gives My Dress-Up Darling the dubious honor of being the first anime I’ve ever seen use the term in-fiction.
For two, she’s from an erotic dating sim. Called…this.
(The title is immediately drawn attention to, of course.)
Gojo takes all this in with a disbelief that is pretty common among those who have just had their head dunked into the far side of otakudom. (I’m actually kinda with him here, I’ve never really understood the appeal of eroge either. Not out of any moral objection, I just can’t fathom being horny while gaming. They are mutually exclusive activities in my mind.)
Marin also repeatedly calls the series “epic,” which I’d say is only a bad pick because someone her age nowadays would probably say it’s “based” instead.
There’s also a pretty funny style cut where Gojo brings up that stuff like this tends to be 18+ and Marin, we’ll say, selectively declines to hear him.
It sounds–and is–simple, but a huge part of what makes this come across as funny instead of just weird is Gojo’s reactions. Over the course of the episode, they slowly ramp up from “in vague disbelief as to what he’s hearing” to “looks like he’s just survived a war.” I will cop to finding his increasing distress amusing.
That second reaction doesn’t come until the latter half of the episode. While Gojo does agree to help Marin with her outfits, he reasonably proposes that they should wait to do measurements until Monday, since by the time this episode starts it’s already quite late on a Friday evening.
Naturally, Marin shows up unannounced at his house the next day while his grandfather happens to be off running an errand. (She notes that she googled his last name and “doll shop” to find the address. That’s honestly kind of creepy! But hey, comedy anime.)
Sidenote: the fit is insane.
She barges in and shows herself around. This alone makes Gojo nervous, but it is absolutely nothing compared to the fact that–as Marin correctly points out–measurements are generally taken while the measure-ee is undressed. Of course, Marin is very cognizant of the fact that she can’t well strip down to her underwear in the house of a boy she only met a few days ago. That would be nuts!
A bikini though. That’s fine. Obviously.
There is going to be a whole section here where there are very few pictures of Marin and a whole lot of pictures of Gojo’s absolutely devastated facial expressions. You may thank / curse me for my modesty in the comments.
Maybe I’m a simpleton for still finding stuff like this funny over a decade into being an anime fan. I think I actually appreciate naked stupidity like this a bit more than I did when I was actually in the target audience for this series. But can you blame me, here? Look at Gojo, guy’s about to die.
Na na na na na na.
This particular visual dynamic–Marin doing something teasing and sexy and then Gojo reacting like he’s been stabbed in the gut–makes up most of the rest of the episode. It’ll wear thin if this is what the whole rest of the show is going to be like (I want the cosplay dates alluded to in the OP sequence, damn it!), but as a single episode thing? It’s pretty fun.
In spite of his own raging hormones, Gojo does successfully take Marin’s measurements. Marin herself even gets flustered at one point, in an amusing but also genuine and human moment. This episode was fine–if one has a high tolerance for H comedy, that is–but those moments of real connection between our two leads are where I think Dress-Up Darling is at its strongest. I hope we get more of them as the series rolls on.
But if not, hey, the sight of Gojo studying Slippery Girls 2 like he’s prepping for exams so he can get outfit references is pretty goddamn funny.
Godspeed, Gojo.
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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.
This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.
Over the past decade, an artistic movement has emerged in anime that values perseverance and centers the stories of young women. If this movement has a name–or is even a cogent scene as opposed to a simple undercurrent–I am unaware of it. But one would have to be fairly oblivious to not at least feel it in the air. Artiswitch was not the most prominent example of this lineage to come out last year, but with the benefit of hindsight, it might be one of the best. And it’s certainly among the most inventive. My only regret with this series is that I didn’t cover it when it was new. (I actually didn’t plan to cover it at all, assuming I’d have nothing of note to say about it. Arguably I still don’t, but, hey, these things have a way of sneaking up on you.)
In terms of “literal plot,” there isn’t much to Artiswitch. Our protagonist, Nina (Utano Aoi, in what appears to be her first-ever anime role), is a witch who maintains a mysterious shop somewhere in Harajuku, Tokyo. Customers find their way to the shop, and when they leave, they take with them an item that changes their lives.
This premise is not a unique one, and in particular fans of forever-underrated CLAMP classic xxxHOLIC will find the general idea familiar, but Artiswitch’s format (a series of shorts, only totaling to about 45 minutes in all) prevents it from preoccupying itself with the sort of sprawling story that that series eventually develops. Instead, we get a lot of symbolism, compelling imagery, and sharp direction. Artiswitch is all mood and atmosphere. Which isn’t to say there are no points being made here, but anyone who requires their anime to have an easily decipherable linear Point A–>Point B plot should check out now.
The first two episodes establish the format. A customer (a tomboyish athlete in the first episode, and a shy, follow-the-leader sort of girl in episode 1 and 2 respectively) makes their way to Nina’s shop. They pick up an item, prompting the witch to deliver her catchphrase (“would you like to peer deeper?”), and from there things dissolve into full-on music video territory.
Quite literally, since these segments, which take up the middle third of each episode, are set to songs and feature little to no dialogue. Going into detail about each of these would be tantamount to spoiling the series, but the first episode’s already gorgeous conceit of the tomboy Haruka rediscovering her repressed feminine side by donning fire-red lipstick and dress is where things start. They ramp up exponentially from there, with the remaining episodes serving to twist the formula in various ways.
The most notable deviations here are the final two. But simply explaining what happens would feel like trying to strangle the life out of the series. It’s less a “what” and more a “how.” When Nina meets a maybe-nemesis in the form of a gothic lolita with ambiguous motives and a habit of, ahem, raining on other folks’ parades, things become less straightforward, and it’s around here where I feel like simply recapping the literal events of the series would be doing it a disservice.
Artiswitch clearly has a lot on its mind, and were I forced to come up with a single flaw I thought were present in the series, it might be a lack of clarity. But at the same time, that feels fundamentally misguided.
And it would require ignoring the final episode, where Nina’s wish-granting capabilities are turned back on themselves, and it is she who must dive into her own mind. We see why she entered this magical line of work to begin with, and the sight of her past self comforting her present with the affirmation that she is moving forward and is doing her best, despite her own doubts, is why I decided to write this short review in the first place.
Fundamentally, art resonates with its audience based on shared thoughts, experiences, and feelings. Those things change from person to person, but taking special note of when a series has successfully struck a chord with me is the entire reason I write at all. Leaving Artiswitch un-commented-upon just didn’t feel right. I have to confess, I am in fact worried about doing this series justice while simultaneously trying to avoid pinning it to a corkboard like a dead butterfly.
But I probably shouldn’t be so concerned. It flits and flies free. On a practical level, I am excited to see what director Kazuma Ikeda (who seems to have an extensive background in design, something that really shines through here) does next. But beyond that, this is the sort of thing people will keep discovering as the years roll by, and even now the comments sections below each episode are crowded with testimonials, in a plethora of languages, from those to whom the series already clearly means quite a lot. The shop stands waiting, all one needs to do is step inside.
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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 is a column where I detail my thoughts, however brief or long, about a currently-airing anime’s first episode or so.
A sickness called the Rust. Forbidden mushrooms that offer toxic euphoria. A desert with iron sand and the foggy streets of the sin city beyond it. Those streets crawl with the sick and dying, hucksters, hookers, butchers, and a doctor with a heart of gold. This is Sabikui Bisco, one of the season’s most singular offerings.
Bisco is absolutely suffused with atmosphere, and it’s tempting to spend the entire article talking about that instead of the actual story (which is only in its very early stages anyway.) But we should at least touch on that before we get into what this thing is actually about. Despite a fairly modest production from an animation point of view, the visuals on this thing are beyond engrossing. (The series comes to us from the brand-new studio OZ. This is, as far as I can tell, their first-ever production.) Almost everything in the city itself is lit with a neon undertone that really sells the whole “Las Vegas of post-apoc Japan” vibe. The character designs, similarly, really pop, and there’s a lot to love about them. Even minor characters get to look good.
But yes, about that “post-apoc Japan” bit. Bisco takes place in a world overrun with something called The Rusty Wind. It makes people sick, and eventually kills them. Also factoring in are a group of people who have some sort of supernatural control over those mushrooms I mentioned before, The Mushroomkeepers. I am quite sure that before watching this episode I had never heard the phrase “mushroom terrorist” in my entire life. Having now seen it, I’ve heard it several times. Most people don’t seem to like the Mushroomkeepers, and while it’s too early to draw clean good guy / bad guy lines (if that’s something this series ever wants to do at all), it’s not hard to get why. Most Mushroomkeeper activity seems to consist of causing huge colonies of tree-sized caps to sprout in places, which causes a lot of damage. One of our protagonists, the titular Bisco (that’s the wild-eyed redhead on the cover. Played here by Ryouta Suzuki, probably best known to readers here as Ishigami from Kaguya-sama: Love is War!) is a Mushroomkeeper. Apparently quite an infamous one. We’re made aware of his legend in this utterly brilliant exchange from the episode’s opening minutes.
Bisco himself doesn’t do a ton in this first episode. What he does do is quite impactful and sets the whole plot in motion, but we’ll circle back around to that. Let’s talk about our other protagonist first.
Milo “Panda” Nekoyanagi (Natsuki Hanae, easily best known as the lead, Tanjirou, in Demon Slayer) is a feminine-looking doctor with a heart of gold who appears to quite literally treat his patients out of a brothel. He seems like a genuinely very nice man, as demonstrated by his habit of giving away treatment (both for Rust and a number of other things) for free. He also collects illegal mushrooms, hoping to synthesize a permanent cure for the disease from them. There’s a personal investment here, as his sister Paw, the city’s guard captain (Reina Kondou, who given that she was also Nikaido in the Dorohedoro anime, seems to be building a niche for herself voicing dangerous women in weird science fantasy settings) is also ill with the disease.
Milo also has one other connection we should discuss. That with the prefectural governor, Kurokawa. (Kenjirou Tsuda, an industry veteran most famous as Seto Kaiba from Yu-Gi-Oh! Though I’d be remiss to not also mention his roles as The Giraffe from Revue Starlight and the talking dog Yamabiko from Sonny Boy.) Kurokawa does not seem to be a nice man, and in his first on-screen appearance tries to bully Milo into abandoning his sister so he can offer his services to the prefecture’s rich elite instead.
His attempt at a verbal beatdown is interrupted, though, by Bisco, who for reasons currently unknown to us, lets loose a mushroom colony in the middle of the city. Utter chaos ensues, with Paw dawning her guard uniform to go stop him despite Milo’s pleas. (And if I may, she looks amazing while doing it, too.)
I try to keep obvious thirsting over anime girls to a minimum on this site, but you’ll have to pardon me here, I have a type.
Paw actually knocks Milo out, but, unfazed, the good doctor simply slinks into his laboratory to continue his work. That, of course, is when Bisco inexplicably shows up behind him, and the episode ends there, with our two leads meeting face to face for the first time.
A lot about Sabikui Bisco reminds one of Dorohedoro, but beyond that I struggle for reference points. (And even in that context, Bisco is very much its own thing.) This is absolutely one to keep an eye on, we might be looking at the start of something big. Even if not, it promises to be intriguing.
Grade: A- The Takeaway: If you have the time, give the first episode of this a watch. It’s interesting.
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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.
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