Posted on April 1, 2022April 2, 2022 in anime, Misc. Anime, Reviews

(REVIEW) The Lost Legacy of FLOWER PRINCESS BLAZE!!: How a Forgotten Toei Series Shaped 15 Years of Magical Girl Anime [April Fools’]

This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

“This world was not made for us. But I understand now that it’s the only one we have.”

For most here in the west, the history of Toei‘s forays into the magical girl genre begins with Sailor Moon, a monstrously successful franchise that is widely beloved to this day. If they know a little more, it ends with Pretty Cure, another monstrously successful franchise that is widely beloved to this day. Those with a still more slightly expansive knowledge of the company’s history might also be aware of Ojomajo Doremi, a marginally less successful franchise that is still beloved enough that it spawned a sort of distant sequel film, Looking for Magical Doremi, as recently as 2020, a full fifteen years after its original conclusion. Those who particularly care about the genre might point out that they’ve made all sorts of magical girl anime over the years, including Himitsu no Akko-chan, one of the very first. Regardless, all of these anime get their flowers from those in the know, and none could rightly be called overlooked by anyone with a decent knowledge of the medium.

But the same is not true for every magical girl series they’ve made.

The year is 2006. Futari wa Pretty Cure has just ended its second and final proper season. Alongside Splash Star, a reboot of the Precure IP, Toei launches a second action-oriented magical girl offering; Flower Princess Blaze!!

Time and the language barrier have rendered this decision obscure and puzzling, but in the moment, it must’ve made sense. Splash Star was the “safe bet”, essentially a retuning of the original Pretty Cure concept. Blaze was the wildcard; stranger, more experimental, and airing a bit later in the day. (Perhaps aiming for a slightly older audience–the 10-14 demo, perhaps–than Pretty Cure and its predecessor Doremi did.)

Splash Star has proven divisive over the longview of history, but in the moment, it absolutely crushed its younger sibling in terms of popularity and sales. Flower Princess Blaze did not do badly; it pulled decent ratings and sold decent amounts of tie-in merchandise. But it was nowhere near as successful as Precure, and “decent” only goes so far. That is perhaps why, when its second “season” concluded in late 2008, the IP was shelved.

(Technically, when airing, the show was split into two “seasons” which aired back-to-back with only a short break between them, Flower Princess Blaze and Flower Princess Blaze!!–yes, the exclamation points are the only difference in title–but the distinction is minimal, and the few later releases of the series haven’t made it, applying the second title to the series on the whole and treating its combined 126 episodes as a single, sprawling saga. The only place I’m aware of that still draws a line between the two is Wikipedia.)

To this end, Toei evidently decided their grand experiment had failed, and cut back to just one girls’ anime. Pretty Cure soldiered on and continued to be insanely popular, but its shadowy younger sister disappeared like a thief in the night, never to be heard from again.

Despite this, Flower Princess Blaze has proven to be quietly influential, with a diverse array of artists and industry figures both within the anime medium and without citing it as an inspiration. Puella Magi Madoka Magica‘s soul gems were taken directly from this series in all but name. And not one but two Pretty Cure seasons–Heartcatch and Happiness Charge–would later make fairly obvious homages to some of its villains.

Even outside the specific lineage of Toei magical girl anime, there are nods in works separated by space, time, and even medium; Steven Universe‘s Gem Homeworld draws on the Midnight Kingdom for architectural inspiration, Wish Upon the Pleiades xeroxes its finale outright, Anime-Gataris features the show’s real-life director as an in-show character. Most recently, and perhaps most famously, My Dress-Up Darling licensed the name and worked actual footage from the series into its own plot, giving lead girl Marin a fixation on secondary villain (and fan favorite) Black Robelia, (rendered “Lobelia” in that show’s official subs) whom she cosplays in several episodes.

And yet, in spite of the shadow it casts over the past 15 years of the magical girl genre, the series remains fairly obscure, especially in the west. Well, I’m not naïve enough to think I can change that on my own, but perhaps this, combined with the renewed interest from MDUD’s cameos, can help a little bit. Today, we dive into one of the strangest magical girl sagas of all time. Wilted flowers and shattered crystals. A hundred worlds in peril and the six girls who’ll save them. Midnight cities and a battle at the end of the universe. This is Flower Princess Blaze.

It starts out so simply. We follow two girls; one of them, Mirai Tengeji / Princess Daisy (Sakura Tange), cast in the then-young but already-typical mold of the upbeat, peppy lead magical girl. She has her foibles (the most obvious of which being her comically rough manner of speaking), but she is certainly what we’d now recognize as the most “typical” of Blaze‘s characters. With a minimal amount of tweaking, she’d fit right in with any given Pretty Cure season.

But she’s not the real main character, not really. Much of the show instead centers on her rival–then friend, then rival, then friend again–Shion Nikaido / Princess Lily (Rumi Shishido). Some context: it’s established before too long that the Midnight Kingdom, the requisite baddies-of-the-week, both a group and the physical place they hail from, form when ordinary people fall into despair, that word that translated anime love to use as a catch-all for negative emotional states. That’s not a background detail; each and every episode features someone, whether it’s a minor one-off character or one far more important, joining the Midnight Kingdom. Sometimes they’re rescued by episode’s end, but it’s far from a sure thing. As such, even early on, Flower Princess Blaze operates with a level of intensity and tension very rare for children’s anime.

At the climax of the series’ first major arc, Shion, learns that her own sister (and former comrade) Neon, (Houko Kuwashima) joined the Kingdom’s ranks after abandoning her position as the Flower Princess Hydrangea.

The revelation that Neon and Black Robelia are the same person remains one of the show’s most iconic twists, eventually fully elucidated in flashback, as does the ensuing scene. Hints peppered throughout the show’s first cour that Shion and Neon are not blood related come to a head here, where Robelia lays out her motivations plainly. People look down on them for their familial situation, she feels like a burden on her parents, she basically flat-out says she wants to die. She’s sick of the world and wants to burn it to the ground. (Her heartbreak over teenage crush Soma probably didn’t help either. Although I think some reads of the character over-emphasize that point.) But this scene is illustrative for another reason; in most magical girl anime, at least those aimed at a young audience, this is not a point of view that would be given any serious credence. There’d be a rebuttal, Shion would assure Neon that people really do love her, something.

But earlier in the episode, Mirai tried that on Shion, and the two had a (comparatively rare for the genre) mahou-on-mahou scuffle. It’s perhaps for that reason that Black Robelia’s speech is so effective that Shion actually defects too. Her flower crystal goes black, and the Midnight Kingdom gains another soldier. This sets up a pattern that recurs three more times over the remainder of the anime, until Mirai is eventually the only Flower Princess still standing. (Not for nothing is Flower Princess Blaze one of the few magical girl anime I can name where the bad guys are also given henshin sequences.)

One of the reasons that the late-series development of all the Princesses eventually shaking off this evil influence feels so well-earned is that we know why they felt this way to begin with. It’s the old adage; no man is an island. Or, well, no little girl in this case.

There’s a lot of good in this show, and much I haven’t mentioned (the other three Flower Princesses; Anemone, Azalea, and Rose, all get solid character arcs as well.) But that’s not to say the series is flawless. Something that Dress-Up Darling lightly pokes fun at when discussing the show is that it’s 126 episodes long. By the standards of the day, that probably didn’t seem unreasonable. For many modern anime fans, however, it’s untenably long, not helped here by the fact that Blaze is a victim of the same spotty visual consistency as any anime of that length. (Plenty of episodes look great, but plenty of others look…well, less than great.) It’s also the only magical girl anime I’ve ever seen with a form of Dragonball Z‘s fight length problem. There are a few encounters in the series that take up entire episodes or even several episodes in a row, and while that certainly does make them feel suitably epic, it can make a few stretches of the show feel oddly empty, too.

Not helping matters is the fact that the show’s main big bad, The Wilt Princess Spiderlily (Minami Takayama), does not appear at all until episode 60. She does not appear in person until almost 20 episodes later, in episode 78. There is a fair amount of running around, here. Adding to this is that while the defection of one of the Flower Princesses to the Midnight Kingdom is shocking the first time, it does become a bit predictable by the time Rose, the last of them, falls to the darkness. Although Blaze doing the whole “adding magical girls to the team as the show goes on” bit in reverse is certainly not something I’ve seen before or since, and Mirai’s few episodes totally alone are suitably harrowing.

This all said, even in its less substantial stretches, there’s a lot to appreciate. The surreal atmosphere of the Midnight Kingdom itself, which our protagonists eventually visit–as well as the surrounding Land of Sadness–is just wonderful. In the second half of the series, Mirai and the remaining princesses leap across a good dozen different worlds when the Earth itself becomes too inundated with negative magic for them to stay.

At show’s end, The Princesses are eventually turned back to the side of good, in some of the show’s best episodes. There is of course a magical doodad, the Miracle Seed, which they assemble. Reunited, they’re faced with a choice. Spiderlily lays it out for them plain; they can destroy her with the artifact and end the threat of the Midnight Kingdom forever, but if they do, they’ll be sent back in time. From our perspective, just before the very first episode. Their memories will not stay, and they’ll forget all the times they’ve had together. A square-one reset, like the whole thing never happened.

Of course, none of them hesitate, and we are treated to a shockingly rough scene where Spiderlily dissolves into red smoke as the girls’ memories are literally ripped from their heads. Time rewinds, and for 5 of the last episode’s final 15 minutes it really does seem like we just watched the entire series be undone in an instant. We soon learn one person does remember, Mirai, whose companion is the only one who seems to have survived the time reset. The exchange that follows, as Mirai breaks into tears and her fairy tries to comfort her, is one of the most eerily prescient in animation history, given the series’ obscurity. Especially the mention to the now ex-magical girl that even if no one else remembers their adventures, they still happened. Forgetting does not undo the work they’ve done.

Of course, both within the show and without, it turns out that people do remember. There’s a brief timeskip to the following day, and Mirai’s interactions with Shion are cold until she lets slip a small detail from their now-past lives. At this, Shion’s demeanor changes in an instant, and the two break into happy tears. The montage that follows weaves some adorably fluffy nonsense about how the strength of one’s heart means that true friends never forget each other. It’s a sweet, and surprisingly simple, end to one of the wildest rides in mahou shoujo history.

After its conclusion, the Flower Princess Blaze IP, as mentioned, was shelved. Enigmatic director Ryusei Nakao (no relation to the voice actor of the same name) had an apparently acrimonious (sources differ) break with Toei over this fact and dropped out of the industry entirely. It’s unfortunate, since Nakao’s distinct style does lend an unreal air to the show, especially with regard to the surreal liminality of the Land of Sadness episodes. Most other staff on the project went on to other things, largely much more successful than FPB had been. (Some, including character designer Yoshihiko Umakoshi, already known for his work on Doremi, would even work on later Pretty Cure seasons. Heartcatch in his case) Even with regard to the director, if he was only going to make one project, this is a hell of a legacy to leave.

Flower Princess Blaze has had a particularly bizarre half-life, not just for its genre but anime in general. Comparable in some respects to other non-Sailor Moon, non-Precure magical girl anime of the time period and slightly before. The main difference of course, is that there aren’t any fingerprints from Cosmic Baton Girl Comet-san or such on Steven Universe and whatnot. FPB’s legacy is paradoxical; forgotten by most but embedded into the very DNA of many far more successful anime.

There is one famous example, in particular.

I have heard it claimed that Homura Akemi is directly patterned after Shion. (The show’s TVTropes page once called her an “expy,” site slang for a copycat character, until some roving Madoka fan removed the line, and to be fair, not without reason.) There are definitely parallels to be drawn between Shion’s quest to save her sister and Homura’s to save Madoka. There are important differences here, though (for one thing, Shion is only subjected to a time loop once, and it’s along with everyone else. Shion also fails pretty early on but unambiguously succeeds once she becomes the first Princess to return to the side of good. A very different structure than Homura’s story), and it’s important to not confuse influence with rote copying, but it’s hard not to see at least a faint resemblance. One can definitely see many traces of Flower Princess in Madoka in terms of mood and atmosphere as well, and the bizarre “Deep Wilt” creatures that the Princesses encounter later in their adventures are almost certainly one inspiration for the Witches. It’s an askew influence, and not purely 1 to 1, as some other anime bloggers with too much time on their hands have previously argued, but it is definitely there, and it continues to be a source of contention.

I would say that if Flower Princess Blaze really did inspire even some part of Madoka Magica (and it seems unlikely, all told, that it didn’t), that casts its shadow even wider, including to relatively recent fare like Wonder Egg Priority and Blue Reflection Ray.

But to an extent, the ongoing debate over its impact muddles a simpler truth. Even if FPB had inspired absolutely nothing, it would still be a damn good show. I said earlier that Flower Princess Blaze is obscure, and that’s true in the grand scheme of things, but it’s never really gone away either. In the late 2000s and very early ’10s, it made messageboard rounds as a stock “hidden gem you have to see” recommendation, alongside anime such as RahXephon and Read or Die. (It helped that it was given an excellent fansub treatment by one-off group Mid-Nite Subs in 2010.) It’s managed to stick around in some corners of the internet, both domestically and abroad.

It’s a decent fanart magnet to this very day, and if you stick your ears to the walls of those anime forums that are still around, it’s said you can still hear Shion / Neon shippers (hmm) fighting with Shion / Soma shippers (also hmm). This is to say nothing of the aforementioned cameos in Dress-Up Darling, which have reignited fan interest even further. (It’s worth noting that because of the MDUD dub, Mirai, Shion and Neon are the only three Princesses to have official English voice actresses; Luci Christian, Monica Rial and the ever-underrated Jamie Marchi respectively.)

Maybe, to cheesily echo Robelia’s famous quote moments before she returned to her true form, this world just wasn’t made for Flower Princess Blaze. But it’s become a part of it anyway, and its impact on anime–as a medium and an artform–is an inarguable good. That counts for a lot.

Until we meet again, Princesses burning bright with hope.

“Lustrous flowers bloom bright from dark soil. I believe that we, too, will live on in a way.”

Like what you’re reading? Unfortunately, the anime you just read about does not exist, and this post constitutes an April Fool’s prank of truly stupid proportions. Seriously, you have no idea how long it took to write all this and make it feel semi-believable, and that’s with me fudging a few details, like its alleged air-hour. Anyway, if you want to see me write in terms this grandiloquently pretentious about actual, real anime, (such as My Dress-Up Darling, where Flower Princess Blaze originated and which I covered week by week). 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 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. I don’t plan to do this again next year, but no promises. I figure, if you can’t laugh at yourself once in a while, what’s the point of even having a job this silly? PS: The joke is not that this anime doesn’t exist. It’s that I just made you read a fanfic formatted like a review.

Posted on March 29, 2022March 29, 2022 in anime, Seasonal Impression Roundups

Seasonal First Impressions: Get Away from It All with ESTAB-LIFE: GREAT ESCAPE

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 Directory to browse by category.

Posted on March 28, 2022March 28, 2022 in anime, Let's Watch

Let’s Watch SABIKUI BISCO Episode 12 – “Bow and Arrow Duo” (SEASON FINALE)

Let’s Watch is a weekly recap column where I follow an anime for the course of its entire runtime. Expect spoilers!

Well folks, here we are. I always meet the end of each season with a certain air of cleaning out the cobwebs. Maybe that just speaks to my impatience and love of novelty (after all, the many shows that will come out next season remain nothing but a sparkle of infinite possibility until they actually air.) Still, more than usual, I am glad to put this one in the books. I haven’t started watching episode twelve of Sabikui Bisco as I type this, but the show has not exactly wowed me over the last third or so of its run, and whatever I end up thinking of the finale, I can’t really change that. On the other hand, I don’t want to go into it with clouded eyes, either. Judging something before I watch it is bad form.

Without further ado then, let’s hop on the crab and find out; can Sabikui Bisco nail the landing, totally saving the show just in the nick of time?

Well, in short, no. But! It does make a pretty good show of trying, and that counts for something.

The actual plot here is dead simple. Bisco, in revived-mushroom-super-saiyan form (reborn “as a god” I believe is how Jabi puts it) has to take down Kurokawa. Who, we here find out, has not turned into the Tetsujin giant so much as he’s “piloting” it. And when Bisco can take down the Tetsujin’s armored form we’ve been following for the past few episodes in just a couple shots, surprise, it has a second form. Tirol helpfully explains that they can’t just kill it while it’s like this, because if they do it’ll self-destruct and take out nearby Imihama along with it. So the only solution? Taking out the pilot.

Our heroes’ plan to do this is also pretty straightforward. Step 1. Have Pawoo break the giant’s helmet with her pole. Step 2. Have Bisco snipe Kurokawa’s sort-of still alive body from the head of the giant. The show spices this up in a few ways; mostly by giving everyone some delightful banter. Pawoo in particular shows a lot of personality here. She also starts gunning pretty damn aggressively for Bisco! Which, me being me, you might assume I’d complain about. But honestly, “warrior woman who aggressively steals a kiss from the guy she’s into” is about the only way they’ve depicted Pawoo that actually makes the pairing make some sense. (And hey, he does offer her “anything she wants” if she comes back alive.) This is the most chemistry they’ve ever had. It only took, you know, 11 and a half episodes.

She even brags about it to Bisco’s surrogate dad afterwards! I would’ve liked to see more of this brash, charmingly arrogant side of Pawoo. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t get to.

The actual execution of the plan goes from A to B to C so quickly that it almost feels perfunctory. Pawoo bonks the giant, the giant’s mask breaks, revealing just how ugly the damn thing actually is.

^{It’s like if you tried to sculpt an ugly infant from cherry Jell-o.}

Kurokawa and Bisco get into it a little bit, and then Milo once again overtakes his sister in the “getting with Bisco” department as he helps Bisco line up the all-important pilot snipe. The power of homoeroticism saves the day, and Kurokawa goes down in one.

And that’s honestly kind of it! We do get some additional stuff throughout the remainder of the episode. Bisco and Milo get a nice moment where they just chill on the bed of giant mushrooms that’s sprung up in the wake of the battle, and the last 10-ish minutes of the episode are a montage showing everyone’s rust infections being cured. (Bisco is now 100% Rust-Eater Mushroom by volume. How does that work? How does anything in a shonen work! Who cares?) This includes Pawoo! Who looked beautiful with her rust scarring and looks just as beautiful without it.

There’s a timeskip, and sometime later we get a fun closing scene where Bisco has to once again pass through the government gate from episode one, this time with Milo in tow. I’m fond of this whole bit, especially Milo also getting a wanted poster where he’s branded the “Man-Eating Panda.” Oh, and the very last interesting worldbuilding tidbit is something we see via a TV. Imihama has a new, political firebrand of a governor who’s done radical things like condemn the persecution of the mushroom-keepers and even declared independence from whatever’s left of the Japanese government. That governor? Pawoo, who–and you’ll have to forgive me here–looks fine as hell in a suit.

And on that victory for WLW everywhere, Sabikui Bisco ends. I didn’t dislike this episode, but from basically every perspective it really felt to me like the show started running out of steam by its end. And as nice as some parts of this episode were, it didn’t really change that. I have rarely seen a series so thoroughly tie up its own premise by the end of its first season. Even many original anime leave a bit more to the imagination than this. One could call that a strength, I guess, but to me it mostly feels weird. Especially since there actually is a sequel to the manga.

We do get one hook here, aside from Imihama’s independence–and I imagine it’s what said manga follows up on–Bisco is now immortal because of his mushroom-fueled resurrection godhood whatever. He doesn’t really like that, and it’s on the note of trying to cure this particular condition that the story ends. So there clearly is some space for the story to continue, should Sabikui Bisco have done well enough to warrant that. Even so, we’re a far cry from where we were back in episode one, and while I always try to judge anime based on what they are, and not what they could’ve been, a part of me does miss the neon-streaked nocturnal urban ambience of the premiere. And on a different note entirely, the smaller-scale character-focused episodes that followed it.

There’s also the issue of this episode’s somewhat inconsistent art. There’s some stuff that looks really great, like when we see Bisco’s resurrection from his perspective in the episode’s opening minutes.

But a lot of the character art is spotty, and it brings down an otherwise solid finale somewhat. Even so, as a decent finish to a decent show, “Bow and Arrow Duo” does its job just fine. (And boy, am I conscious of the fact that I’m yo-yoing between positive and negative opinions a lot in this article.) The series’ final shot is a framed picture of Milo and Bisco, and I think that’s a nice image to end on.

And ordinarily, dear readers, this is where I’d tell you I’ll see you next season. That’s true as far as the Let’s Watch columns go. (I won’t even be announcing the winner of the Community Choice poll until this coming Saturday in the weekly Frontline Report column.) But the first show of what looks to be a very busy season actually premieres tomorrow. So, with that in mind, I’ll see you then, anime fans.

Posted on February 13, 2022February 13, 2022 in anime, Reviews

(REVIEW) The Last Flight of DRAGONAUT – THE RESONANCE

^{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 and give my honest thoughts on it. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by Rakhshi. Thank you for your support.}

The common wisdom is such; if you want to really take the measure of a period of time, don’t look at media from it that everyone remembers. Things that persist over the years tend to be your classics, your cult classics, and your so-bad-its-good’s. If you really want to get in the head of someone living in a period of time, look at the stuff no one remembers. Occasionally something will pick up a reputation as an “overlooked gem” and worm its way into that second category, but that’s rare. Things that are forgotten tend to stay forgotten and are often indicative of things that were popular at the time but not so much nowadays. So, the theory goes, they’re representative of an unfiltered look at a period.

If all this holds true, shows like Dragonaut – The Resonance may represent the true spirit of the late ’00s. A GONZO production from the period where basically all they were making was stuff like this, Dragonaut comes to us from 2007, one of an absurd even by modern standards nineteen projects GONZO produced that year. It aired that Fall to middling interest alongside similarly forgotten-today fare like Ayakashi and Night Wizard. As such, Dragonaut stands out not for any particularly exceptional quality but because, like many weird one-off projects from this era, it has ostentatious character designs and an absurd premise.

It is the near future, and poor Pluto, already stripped of the dignity of being a planet, has been obliterated by a massive asteroid called Thanatos. Some years later, a SpaceX-style civilian space plane launch goes awry when an alien dragon from said asteroid unexpectedly collides with the plane, killing everyone aboard sans a single survivor, the pilot’s son and our protagonist, Jin. (Voiced by the legendary Daisuke Ono.) The government promptly covers the whole business up, and a full two years pass as Jin has to endure the public at large blaming his father for the accident. He only uncovers the truth of things when by sheer chance, he meets a beautiful girl with supernatural abilities named Toa (Minori Chihara, best known as Yuki in The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya). Obviously, she is also an alien dragon.

To put it bluntly, this is an absurd start to an equally absurd anime. Dragonaut isn’t totally devoid of merits, but the sheer, overbearing goofiness of its very setting makes it a little hard to take seriously. It quickly comes to involve bonded pairs of artificial dragon-people who can change from human to dragon-alien-mech-things (“Communicators”) and back and their riders / pilots who compose the titular Dragonaut program in the service of an international organization called the ISDA. It’s pretty cool and extremely dumb in equal measure. Moreso because the dragons, in dragon form, are handled by GONZO’s CGI department, which means we get huge, chunky CG rigs that are not quite articulated and lit enough to look fully convincing but do look like they’d make sick toys. (Their color palettes are also not the best, sadly. Which can make some of them hard to distinguish mid-fight.)

The corny tone is not really a bad thing. One of my favorite anime from this period is Witchblade, which has a similar issue. If anything, Dragonaut could stand to have been cornier. If there’s a real flaw here, it’s that Dragonaut starts out fairly self-serious and never really lets up. One might say it’s “very anime,” but it’s not camp. This contrasts in an ugly way with its sillier aspects.

Such as, for example, its character designs. With only a few exceptions each; the men are either emotionally sensitive feminine boys with period-appropriate emo haircuts, unreasonably diesel Chad-Gods who shake the Earth with each footstep, or grizzled, uniformed commanders who scowl as they make Tough Decisions. The women are warmhearted maidens who bring joy wherever they go, goofy brats, or gene lottery winners with chests so big that they have their own gravitational pull. I’m not one to moralize about this kind of thing, so to me the excessive fanservice mostly comes across as unintentional hilarity. If someone were less inclined to that point of view, I could absolutely understand it making the entire series unwatchable just on its own. Especially in the case of recurring antagonist Garnet MacLaine (played here by Haruhi herself, Aya Hirano), whose outfit looks like three other, unrelated, gratuitous sexy outfits crashed into each other at a hundred miles per hour, and also has the misfortune of being one of just two named POC characters in the series.

The plot is a sprawling kudzu vine of romance, political and military intrigue, and science-fantasy hokum. You might note that this is also true of a lot of great anime from around that time, but Dragonaut‘s handling of much of this material is pretty leaden. Enough so that details like, say, Toa’s name being derived from a bracelet Jin gave to his late sister Ai (“From Jin to Ai”, you see.) come across as comedic rather than stirring.

On one level, all this means that you could freely regard Dragonaut as the shlock that it is. By 2007, the hunt for the next Neon Genesis Evangelion, and the wave of “world story” anime it spawned had largely petered out. Eva had spawned numerous imitators and responses, and even shows outside its genre entirely were affected. By the late 2000’s, that influence had turned into background noise. The gulf between Dragonaut and something like, say, Eureka Seven, one of the very best anime in this vein and from just two years prior, is vast. If we wanted to draw an admittedly imperfect analogy, we could turn toward the history of pop music. If Evangelion was Nevermind–another 90s touchstone–Dragonaut is Daughtry. Everything challenging and artistically interesting about the movement has been squeezed out, and what you are left with is the sad backwash of an artistic point in time that was already firmly in the rearview. It’s not at all unfair to say that Dragonaut is a series of very limited ambition, at least.

On the other hand, that very inconsequentiality makes any judgement of Dragonaut that leans this harsh feel, frankly, a bit silly. (In much the same way that it’s hard to get too mad about the strained bluster of “It’s Not Over.”) No, it’s not some grand, generation-defining artistic statement. I doubt anyone–including anyone who worked on it–thought it was. That doesn’t make it criticism-proof and I certainly have quite a few qualms with it, but we should remind ourselves that we’re talking about a goofy-ass anime about goofy-ass space dragons, here. Condemning it in that manner is perhaps a bridge too far.

Because all this said and meant, the show does have its strong suits. Some of the character relationships are pulled off surprisingly well. Mostly these are various Dragon / Rider pairs. Jin and Toa will not win any originality-in-writing awards, but they’re cute together, and when they’re apart you do genuinely feel their longing for each other. Turning their couple into a trio is Gio (Junichi Suwabe, probably best known as Archer from Fate/), who seems to get on quite well with both of them. My favorite pair, though, is that of rider Akira (Miyuki Sawashiro, voice of Fujiko Mine since 2015) and her dragon Machina (Yuuko Gotou, VA of Mikuru Asahina, making Dragonaut something of a Haruhi Suzumiya cast reunion), whose affection for each other is warm and uncomplicated throughout the first half of the series series, as Akira grows to question the role that the ISDA has forced her into. The two are also very gay for each other; Akira here had a dragon wife long before Miss Kobayashi. (Sadly, the two are the victim of a pretty nasty instance of the “bury your gays” cliche, and they’re killed off around halfway through the show. I will leave the question of their sort-of resurrection as ghosts attuned to Thanatos making that better or worse as an exercise to the reader.)

Rounding out the most interesting characters are the rich girl / butler pair of Sieglinde (Nana Mizuki, who probably needs no introduction, but who you might variously know as Cure Blossom, Fate Testarossa, or Symphogear‘s Tsubasa Kazanari) and Amaedeus (Eiji Maruyama, active as both an anime VA and toku actor from the early ’70s until his death in 2015. Most of his anime roles were kindly and/or badass old guy parts like this, and if Amadeus is any indication, he was damn good at them) who have a cute surrogate daughter / father relationship, and lastly Kazuki (Tetsuya Kakihara and Sawahiro again, depending on where you get your credits from. I’m unsure of what the story was there. Perhaps it was a split role), who fosters an incredibly toxic yandere-leaning jealous streak over both Jin and Gio, and his dragon Widow, (Saeko Chiba, who has a string of supporting roles under her belt, although most of them were behind her at this point. You may know her as Nina Einstein from Code Geass) with whom he bonds over their mutual feeling of being spurned, until his jealousy inevitably mutates into an abusive streak.

^{Seen here in mid-distance, because getting an image of all of these characters together was quite difficult for some reason.}

Production-wise, Dragonaut avoids the pitfalls of some of its uglier GONZO brethren. While the airborne fights are janky because of the CGI’s general inflexibility, the on-foot fight choreography is pretty excellent throughout, accounting for almost all of the show’s visual highlights. On a less technical level it’s also competently directed (by Manabu Ono, who directed a bunch of things for GONZO and has since gone on to helm some later Sword Art Online material) and the color choices are solid. (Outside of the dragons themselves, that is.) There’s generally at least a few cool shots per episode, etc. These are modest strengths, but Dragonaut makes the most of them.

Story wise, things are dicier. The plot aims for profundity and complexity but only occasionally gets farther than simply being complicated. Some of the arcs the show sets up have decent payoffs and others very much do not. In its best moments, like the mid-series episodes 13 and 14, where the ISDA save the world from being blown up by a magic nuke (!), Jin, Gio, Akira, and Machina depart to rescue Toa, who is trapped on Mars (!!), only to be intercepted by a characteristically jealous Kazuki, who they must then fight and seemingly kill (!!!), it is at least quite entertaining. Plot threads roll into each other like tumbleweeds across the desert. Or, indeed, run-on sentences. Occasionally, it’ll make an emotional moment hit just so, and Dragonaut achieves its greatest feat; the ability to perform a half-decent imitation of shows like Eureka Seven, or Eva, or even RahXephon (which I haven’t seen, but a friend who I was watching the series with has). It’s hard to tell if Dragonaut wants to be counted among that number or if it’s content just cribbing notes from those shows. Either way, it’s very much an imitation, not the genuine article.

Things go back and forth like this up and down the whole length of the series. Sometimes these various subplots and diversions end in a way that’s satisfying or at least entertainingly silly, other times they’re straight-up bad. Coming down to an almost even split across the show’s 25-episode runtime, I’d say. The fairly strong character writing contrasted with the relatively weak plotting does make it sometimes feel like a gaggle of good characters searching for a good show to be in and never quite finding one. There is a solid theme wound through here about how different sorts of love mean more to different people, but it’s subsumed by world story tropes riffing on Eva‘s Instrumentality plot in the finale–tropes that had become cliches by this point–and the series ends with a whimper rather than a bang.

Watching it, I was acutely aware of how tired of the pseudogenre everyone must have been at this point. Dragonaut‘s final few episodes seem to default to the Eva mode less out of any real commitment to the themes it explores and more because it lacks any better or more original ideas. It is a decidedly fine ending. Not offensively bad. Not particularly great either.

But being fine was enough, at least, for Dragonaut to be decently popular while it was airing. Hard numbers are difficult to come by, but it seems to have done well enough financially, though not enough to warrant sequels or spinoffs aside from a manga adaption that apparently takes a somewhat different spin on things. It did get a bonus OVA included on its DVD box set, a supremely ridiculous thing where the cast have their characters switched around via a wacky science machine. It is mostly an excuse to parade screwball situations out and have the camera zoom in on the girls’ busts some more; every sense of the word “fanservice” rolled into one. Perhaps unavoidably, given the general thrust of the female character designs, it was a popular fanart magnet for a little while. The few English-language reviews it got predictably nailed the show somewhere in the C-grade range, a trend I am all too aware I’m contributing to here.

All of this constitutes a minor legacy for a decidedly minor show. It still is a legacy, and that is worth something, but there is a reason that people still talk about even other Eva-indebted mecha anime from this time–say, Gurren Lagann, which I’m not a personally huge fan of but which is inarguably a better and more striking an interpretation of some of these same influences–but not Dragonaut. It has largely been left in the dustbin of history. Pierce the heavens, this does not.

Rather than any of its contemporaries, Dragonaut‘s status as an Extremely 2007 Anime reminds me of another, much more recent show, with which it has almost nothing else in common, The Detective is Already Dead. Like that anime (and a few others I’ve covered here over the years), it was a fossil from the day it began airing. Ultimately, Dragonaut represents a small side branch of a larger artistic tradition. That branch has largely come and gone, but the larger Evangelion and Eureka Seven-indebted school it represents survives to this day. Even in terms of fairly specific setups, one of the very few times Dragonaut is brought up in modern anime discussions at all is to compare it with Darling in the FranXX, another extremely-of-its-moment child of Eureka with which it shares a broadly similar premise and some thematic points. There are worse fates for an anime to have, even if DarliFra itself is extremely polarizing.

Most people who worked on Dragonaut went on to bigger things. (“Better” is subjective.) So, while it is always tempting to view the story of any largely forgotten series as a sad one, that really isn’t the case here. While GONZO themselves are gone, as far as I can tell, most of the staff from this project have continued to work in the field. Those who don’t seem to have either later found success elsewhere or had already established a legacy by the time they worked on Dragonaut. I feel comfortable in saying that for almost every single person who worked on it, Dragonaut was a minor step along their paths. I could easily spin this into a condemnation, but I’d be condemning plenty of other shows too. It is the fate of the vast majority of anime that air every year, even now. Hard to hate, equally hard to love, Dragonaut simply is what it is.

Anime is an art form, but it’s also a craft and a field of the entertainment business. In entertainment, works arise to fulfill a desire from their audience. In 2007, people wanted hopelessly romantic stories where high-flying science-fantasy heroes saved the world with the power of love. Dragonaut, for whatever faults it has, is one of those, and it is if nothing else, a competently made one. It was not the most notable, most successful, and certainly not the best of that sort of story, but it gave the people what they wanted. Perhaps sometimes that is enough.

Posted on February 8, 2022 in anime, Let's Watch

Let’s Watch SABIKUI BISCO Episode 5 – Children’s Fortress

Let’s Watch is a weekly recap column where I follow an anime for the course of its entire runtime. Expect spoilers!

Another day, another episode of Sabikui Bisco that is certainly not the best thing airing right now but is pretty damn entertaining. That’s about what I signed up for with Bisco, so I’m pretty satisfied with it.

“Children’s Fortress” splits its time between two stories. Which is an expedient way to keep track of multiple groups of characters at once and also keep the pacing up, but it does make it a tad annoying to summarize. Let’s start with the “B-plot” first, since it’s shorter and simpler.

Pawoo–Sabikui Bisco‘s coolest character and also my future wife–has been pursuing Bisco and Milo since they left Imihama. We don’t get a particularly precise idea of how far off their trail she is so far, but it’s evidently far enough that they don’t interact at all during the course of this episode. Instead, the B-Plot kicks off when Pawoo’s bike pops its tires in the midst of an abandoned town. Evidently from a trap left by some bandits who have themselves long since vacated the area. While trying to sort out what to do about all this, she sees a kindly old couple being menaced by an overgrown mutant spider. This being a shonen anime, she of course casually kills it with her giant iron pole thing and finishes it with a kick. (What is that thing, anyway? No one ever calls it anything but a “pole.”)

^{You really have no idea how hard it is for me to not just caption every single picture of Pawoo with “SHE’S SO COOL!!!!” written exactly like that.}

Grateful, the couple allow her to stay with them while she fixes her bike. They also take the time to explain that an eeeeeeeeevil mushroom keeper is the cause of a Rust outbreak that whittled the town’s population down to just the two of them. Whether or not this is true, we don’t learn here and may never directly learn, but there is reason to doubt the couple’s story.

^{There are many great things about Pawoo, but I would not say that her calm demeanor and even temper are among them.}

Pawoo isn’t with these people for terribly long before she discovers that something is off. By “discovers something is off,” I mean she comes across a bunch of rotting corpses propped up like they’re watching TV in one of the couple’s rooms.

They drop the act pretty much immediately and go all blatantly evil knife-sharpening on her, also threatening to “turn her into a statue of a female oni.”

It’s all rather silly, and of course Pawoo escapes the entire mess unscathed (although I wouldn’t be surprised if the fucking zombie she encounters in the couple’s hideout breathing some kind of toxic fumes on her comes back in some way or another). She doesn’t even actually kill the couple herself. They plea for mercy, but before she can make any meaningful response, retreat back into their hideout, which promptly explodes. Which they seem to have done intentionally? This whole half of the episode is, frankly, kind of absurd. But I do like the idea that whenever Pawoo isn’t directly on-screen she’s off having some kind of bizarre Samurai Jack-ian adventure.

Then there’s the A-plot, which is a tad more involved. In last week’s post-credits teaser, we saw Bisco and Milo come upon a building / small city inhabited solely by children, two of whom were sniping at them from the rooftops. Bisco and Milo end up willingly letting themselves be captured by these kids. Why? Well, mostly because they think they might have food. There’s also perhaps the unspoken implication that even the antiheroic Bisco would prefer to avoid hurting kids if he can.

Mostly this serves as a vehicle for us to learn this town’s woes. All the kids have Rust and all the adults have left town to try to raise money to buy treatments for it. We’re not directly told how long they’ve been gone, but it seems to be a few years minimum, based on the other major threat the town faces; annual giant flying blowfish attacks.

Yes, you read that correctly. Sabikui Bisco really loves its funky bio-engineered deadly wildlife. Here, they even have the audacity to appear out of season due to “unusual weather.” (We are helpfully told that this is normally a winter problem, and it’s currently summer in-show.) Unlike some of the other dangers our heroes have faced, which have been either cool or genuinely grotesque, the blowfish land more on the doofily cute side of the spectrum. But they are dangerous; one of them almost eats support character Kousuke, who spends most of the episode as Bisco’s “jailor.”

It also turns out that, surprise; the infection the kids have is not Rust, but some far more benign and easily treatable disease called shellskin. Milo treats them (and in the process, teaches one of the kids, Plum, enough about medicine that she can become a doctor herself.)

^{Plum also has a precocious crush, which adds her to the long list of women in this show that mistakenly think Milo is available.}

But the facts are simple; their parents have been misled. And by who else but Imihama’s governor? I hadn’t considered this while actually watching the episode, but comparing the two, it makes me wonder if he–or someone working for him–wasn’t the mysterious “mushroom keeper” the couple from the B-Plot were referring to. The man seems to have a vested interest in making sure Imihama is the only habitable place around.

On the other hand; maybe not. Sabikui Bisco is good for what it is, but this is very much an episodic episode. The biggest change here being that Bisco exits town with a new weapon (a harpoon), and some directions pointing him toward an abandoned subway line. It does all feel a touch filler-y, which is a little strange given how short this series is planned to be. Perhaps they’re already banking on a second season, or maybe what’s gone on here will have more significance than I’ve given it credit for.

Still, it’s a minor complaint. Sabikui Bisco‘s goals seem to be fairly modest ones of entertainment and telling a story that’s base-level compelling. There’s nothing wrong with that at all, and it’s succeeded at it admirably so far. Will next week bring us more of the same or are things going to start getting a little more ambitious? There’s only one way to find out.

Until then, anime fans.

Posted on January 31, 2022 in anime, Let's Watch

Let’s Watch SABIKUI BISCO Episode 4 – “Ride the Crab”

Let’s Watch is a weekly recap column where I follow an anime for the course of its entire runtime. Expect spoilers!

Folks, I’m gonna level with you. It’s 10am local, and I, your illustrious blog-owner / writer, have not slept. This happens to me sometimes. I have insomnia. Pretty bad insomnia! I could just have slept in today and decided to cover Sabikui Bisco later tonight or possibly tomorrow. But let me ask you this; do people who work real jobs get to decide to just not go in for their morning shift because they’re tired? No, they do not. They probably should! But they don’t. So why should I get that luxury? I say fuck it. I’m here to deliver to you, loyal readers, however many paragraphs of grade-A Insightful Anime Criticism (TM, TM, TM), and by god, I am going to get it to you even if I have to shotgun six Red Bulls to get there.

So here’s where I’m at, alright? I have the episode queued up on my laptop (not CUE!’d up, I dropped coverage of that show). I have my breakfast; a delicious slice of Edwards’ Chocolate Creme pie ($2.50 for 2 pieces at the local dollar store) and what I will refer to only as a Caffeine Drink. As I type this, I have not yet started watching the episode. Why draw it out any further? I’m Jack Kerouackin’ it. You do not get the polished Jane The Anime Critic today, you get the rambly one. Let’s rock ‘n roll.

An observation right off the bat; I have not appreciated this OP enough. The song kicks ass. It makes me want to traverse the Rust-infested desert searching for a wanted man. Or maybe lost love. Or maybe I just really wish I was Pawoo. God, Pawoo is great.

You may recall last week’s post-credits scene ended on a cliffhanger. Our episode does not open addressing this–which is a thing I kinda hate?–but we get Milo and Bisco bickering like a married couple to make up for it, so it’s fine.

Some important business is established here. Point 1. Pawoo has only three months to live. Given that she’s the most attractive, coolest, most dashing, and just generally best character in the show, and is in fact absent from this episode, this is tragic. Point 2. Bisco’s mentor, Jabi, has only about one month to live. This is also pretty awful. Point 3. There is no way to get to where Milo and Bisco need to be in time without attracting a huge amount of attention the twosome can’t afford to attract.

Except of course, because this is an adventure anime. There is a plan. (There’s always a plan.) Bisco knows of an underground mine complex whose railcarts run the length of the area they need to traverse. This complex is part of the kickassedly-named Bonecoal Mountains. Which of course, because this is an adventure anime, is an absurdly dangerous route that will present them with all kinds of challenges and tests of both physical and intellectual might. (One of the dangers namechecked here? “Iron mice” which can skeletonize a man in seconds. Piranhas, watch your backs!) After overcoming them, of course, they will grow both individually as people and closer together as friends. All of this is fine, though. Bisco has an ace up his sleeve.

The ace is a giant crab.

Yes, the pair link back up with Actagawa here. Actagawa, a giant “steelcrab,” has a shell tough as iron and can amble over any terrain with ease. He is, as Bisco explains, the ideal mount for their journey. (He may be a bit biased, given that he calls the giant friendly crab his “brother.”) Giant crabs objectively improve any work of art in which they appear, so I have to say I am quite satisfied with the ratio of giant crabs to things that aren’t giant crabs in Sabikui Bisco so far.

But much like a horse or, really, any tamable animal, Actagawa has to be eased into putting up with Milo. Progress is…slow, over the course of this episode. And eventually one of Milo’s attempts to ride the crab (a phrase that really sounds like a euphemism but somehow isn’t), literally tosses him headlong into meeting up with another character we’ve seen before.

Yes, Chiroru unexpectedly returns here. She’s chased off after trying to steal Actagawa, but it’s not long before our heroes meet her again at a small rural rest station. There, things promptly get weird.

The two approach her from behind as she appears to be sitting idly by a fire. Initially it seems like she’s simply giving them the cold shoulder, but a well-executed sudden jumpscare proves that, no, she’s got some kind of horrible infection in her mouth. It’s pretty goddamn nasty!

Worse, Milo somehow deduces that it’s something in her stomach. That “something?” A parasitic creature called a balloonworm that inflates and kills from the inside out; used as a tool of control by particularly bad dudes who force those they make use of to eat the creatures’ eggs and then keep them in line by drip-feeding them a drug that prevents the eggs from hatching. It’s a favored tactic of Imihama’s governor, Chiroru’s former employer. Did I mention that Milo is able to get this thing out of her by locking lips with her and pulling it out with his mouth? I reiterate; goddamn nasty.

Chiroru is grateful to Milo in her own way. But, assuming ulterior motives, tries to, ahem, pay with her body.

^{I think her main mistake here is assuming Milo is straight.}

This starts off Bisco on another annoying, sexist spiel. The only thing that prevents that from being as much of a black mark on this episode as on last week’s is that Chiroru can hit back about as good as she gets. (Milo, bless him, prevents a fight from breaking out. And buried within that exchange, there’s actually a telling little character moment where Chiroru seems genuinely surprised Milo doesn’t expect to be able to sleep with her for doing her a favor.) Everyone hits the hay, and Chiroru–a travelling merchant when she’s not working as a bounty hunter, apparently–tosses out a few old wares she can’t reasonably sell, including a can of “liquid bonecoal.” (Gas by another name or some sort of futuristic fossil fuel? You decide!)

This turns out to be a mistake.

Recall that cliffhanger I mentioned earlier. The unnamed area our heroes stopped at here and the War Memorial from last week’s post-credits scene turn out to be the same place. And it’s here, at about the episode’s 2/3rd’s mark, that the story loops back around to where it left off last week. Not time wasted! I enjoyed the whole ride; but it’s good to know what the heck was going on.

So how does this all end? Well, the “living temple” decked out with cannons and whatnot is, as we learn, actually a colossal, fuel-eating shrimp. Milo is able to use his newfound bond with Actagawa to have the crab land a fatal blow on the shrimp’s noggin, which Bisco finalizes by splitting it open with an arrow. All’s well that ends well…

Except that a stray shot from one of the shrimp’s mounted cannons ignites the mine entrance they were hoping to use and just happened to be near. Bisco’s plan, it seems, did not account for that. The two, seeing no other immediate option, settle down for the night. They awake to find Chiroru’s run off again (and taken a good chunk of their money with her, although she’s left a bunch of food and such in return.)

Our postscript here sees Bisco and Milo wandering a salty-looking desert some days or weeks later, hard up on food. Bisco spots a watermelon–yes, a watermelon. Just lying on the ground–and things quickly escalate into a standoff.

But that’s something we’ll see play out next week, what about this episode?

Honestly, perhaps it’s just the lack of sleep, but I’m dry on sweeping, grandiose statements for this’n. It’s a good episode and I like that Milo can ride Actagawa now. It was cute to see them bond and the critter has a surprising amount of personality given that he’s a huge crustacean animated via a slightly stiff CGI rig. Milo and Bisco’s bickery bromance continues to be incredibly entertaining, and I was thrilled to see Chiroru again in a slightly more prominent role this episode. (Less thrilled to see her hock up a giant worm. Seriously, that shit was disgusting.)

So, anime fans, I leave you with those as my thoughts for this week. Those and one more; yes, if you’re wondering, the pie I mentioned in the opening paragraph was delicious. Thank you as always to my supporters, who allow me to indulge in such luxuries as occasional $2 pie.

Until next time.

Posted on January 24, 2022 in anime, Let's Watch

Let’s Watch SABIKUI BISCO Episode 3 – “Tag Team”

If you’re looking for the ingredients of a classic adventure story, they are there in Sabikui Bisco. That’s more evident in the third and most recent episode (“Tag Team”) than it has been. This is probably the weakest episode of the series so far, but it’s good enough that the very term “weakest” feels a bit too harsh. There’s a lot of promise, here, but also some notable room for improvement.

So Bisco fails to take the hat trick. Still, it’s a solid episode. We’re introduced to a couple key points here. The main one is that the mushrooms that we’ve so far been led to believe spread the Rusting sickness actually feed off of it and can thus cure it. This has interesting implications for Bisco’s wider world. Almost everyone thinks the mushrooms cause Rust. The episode opens with a loudspeaker announcement warning the residents of Imihama City to avoid inhaling spores, and elsewhere another character calls the fact that mushrooms create Rust “common sense.”

This is framed as a simple misunderstanding; people assume that mushrooms cause Rust because they grow where it’s found. But I would not be surprised if it later turned out that someone was lying about something for some ulterior motive. It would slot in well with Sabikui Bisco‘s more ambitious storytelling aims.

About the less ambitious ones, though. As foreshadowed at the end of last week’s episode, Bisco and Pawoo* get into it here, and while their actual fight is pretty good, this is where some cracks start showing.

Sabikui Bisco is, at the end of the day, a shonen series. And while it’s not universal, that does tend to imply certain things. One of them is what I will call a, I don’t know, casual sexism tax? Bisco remarks on Pawoo’s looks some three or four times during their fight, and while his internal monologue and later actions imply he doesn’t “really” believe any of the things he says, they’re still kind of shitty. This is the guy we’re supposed to be rooting for, mind you, so comments like this coming out of his mouth unchallenged reflects pretty poorly on the series at large.

Worse, at the end of the fight (which Pawoo only loses because Bisco snipes her with an arrow tipped with some kind of knock-out poison), she’s left behind in the City Watch’s care while Bisco and Milo set off on their journey. (Which, we’ll get back to that momentarily.) Effectively, this writes her out of the series for the time being. I don’t really want to add Sabikui Bisco to the long, long list of otherwise solid action anime that treat their female characters like trash, but this is not a terrific start. A kinda-goofy “sexy” outfit is one thing. This is quite another.

At the very least, the fight itself is pretty good. One can’t say that Bisco wins too easily. Pawoo is the uber-serious shoot-first-ask-questions-later type, so she doesn’t buy any of Bisco’s talk about mushrooms healing the Rust. She does nearly beat the hell out of him, though, which is pretty great. There’s also some truly weird set dressing going on here. Why does their fight at one point pivot to being on top of a huge bowling pin inexplicably in the middle of Imihama? Who knows! It definitely rules, though. Moreso when Pawoo shatters the thing and there’s an audible “bowling strike” sound effect.

^{You might say Pawoo has no time for games.}

There’s also some brief but fun color commentary from recurring secondary character Chiroru Oochagama. (Miyu Tomita, probably best known as the lead character, Riko, in Made in Abyss.) Her cowardly put-upon minion vibe makes her great for this sort of thing, and I hope she never stops doing it.

Intercut with all of this is Milo healing up Bisco’s mentor, Jabi. He eventually recovers enough that, when the time comes for Milo and Bisco to split at episode’s end, it’s he who stays behind to provide a distraction. (At least Pawoo will have some company in Good Characters Temporarily Absent From The Show Jail.)

As for where Bisco and Milo are actually going, it turns out that the “Rust-Eater” alluded to in the series’ alternate English title is, in fact, a mushroom. One that can heal just about anything, including Jabi’s (and presumably Pawoo’s) particularly bad Rust infection, which will eventually claim both of their lives if it’s not treated.

It’s worth noting in the latter case that Milo does give her some of the same injection that fixed up Jabi, but that the mushroom is still being sought out at all implies that this is only a temporary solution. Also, there is a bit where Milo gives a very long, heartfelt, tearful goodbye to his unconscious sister while saccharine music swells. The entire time, Bisco impatiently taps his foot in the background and then tells him off when he’s done. It’s pretty funny.

So, there you have it, Bisco and Milo exiting Imihama and setting out on an epic quest to get a special mushroom. Complete with all the fightbro homoeroticism so common to this sort of anime.

It’s classic stuff, and despite my criticisms of the episode’s handling of Pawoo I did enjoy it overall. (Time will tell if that continues to be the case, but here’s hoping.) There’s a post-credits scene here where Milo and Bisco come across a “war memorial,” a temple made out of and absolutely covered in ancient, rusting war machines. It promptly comes to life when they attempt to stop there for the evening. Thus, cliffhangers beget cliffhangers, and the adventure continues.

Until next week, anime fans.

^{*Official sources seem to disagree on whether her name should be romanized as Pawoo or just Paw. Because of how these things work, neither is exactly wrong, and they’re pronounced the same way. But the official subtitles use “Pawoo”, so it’s what I’ll be using from here on out.}

Posted on January 21, 2022January 21, 2022 in anime, Reviews

(REVIEW) A Blood-Red Sun Hangs High Over SCHOOL-LIVE!

^{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.

Posted on January 18, 2022 in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: From Reel to Real in POMPO: THE CINÉPHILE

^{This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.}

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 Cinéphile manga, 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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Posted on January 15, 2022 in anime, Let's Watch

Let’s Watch MY DRESS-UP DARLING Episode 2 – “Wanna Hurry Up, and Do It?”

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.}

The Magic Planet

Tag: Review

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