Hi folks. A bit low on energy as I write this, so I’ll just cut right to the chase for you. That’s the important part anyway, right?

Seasonal Anime

Birdie Wing

The news felt tragic when it was handed down. “Birdie Wing will have only 13 episodes.” These days, single cour anime are by far the norm, so it wasn’t too surprising to learn that Birdie Wing would have only a single episode more than the standard twelve. Still, for a show that seemed to be pivoting into ever-more absurd iterations on its central sport, it cannot help but be the tiniest bit disappointing. Part of me wanted Birdie Wing to run for dozens and dozens of episodes just to see how out there it could get.

On the other hand, this is the proverbial fire under Birdie Wing‘s ass. This week’s episode was the eleventh, putting the series just two away from completion. Every minute counts in a single cour anime, and never more so than in its final few episodes.

The question, then, that Birdie Wing asks you as it enters its finale, is how much can you care about golf? Not how much you do care about golf, mind you. I care about the actual sport very little and I’m sure the same is true of a fair number of people who are watching it. But like anything, Birdie Wing‘s first major obstacle to overcome as a story and a piece of entertainment is to make you care about it. It has a lot of tricks up its sleeve in that regard; Eve’s rainbow bullets, its plethora of absurd courses, the ludicrously high stakes involved in many of these matches, its once-present class commentary that seems to have largely just faded into the ether, etc. But at the end of the day, a key part of forcing your suspension of disbelief is to make you care about this thing you might otherwise not give a damn about. Birdie Wing, in what I think is probably its greatest overall strength, is really good at that. This time it uses a more conventional, though no less effective approach; a compelling but brief arc for a side character.

Part of this episode stars Kinue Jinguuji (Mai Nakahara). Jinguuji is the president of Eve’s adopted high school’s golf club, and over the course of the episode she puts Eve through some pretty intense training. (Yes, this episode is a Golf Training Arc. No one should be surprised by that at this point.)

One would correctly guess, then, that she’s a strong golfer herself. Over the course of this episode, Coach Amuro sets upon her the task of “polishing” Eve, who he describes as a diamond in the rough.

But, Birdie Wing makes a key distinction here. Jinguuji is a very good golfer; she has technique and intuitive course knowledge and all the sorts of things that make one actually good at the sport both within Birdie Wing and in real life. If this were Sorairo Utility, 2022’s other anime about girls golfing, she’d be the strongest player on the course by a mile.

But this is not that particular short, and it is also not real life. Jinguuji being a very good golfer is not enough to elevate her to main character status, something she is keenly aware of.

Instead, Jinguuji falls into the old archetype of someone who is deeply passionate about something, and is even quite skilled at it, but cannot compete with natural talent. This is a character type that has recurred many times throughout the course of the medium, usually in contexts far more “obviously” dramatic than this one. But Birdie Wing playing the trope completely straight, and managing to actually do so fairly successfully, is amazing. If it winked for even a moment, the illusion would collapse in a heap.

There is a real case to be made for Birdie Wing as a truly effective piece of camp theater, and arcs like Jinguuji’s (or earlier in the show; Rose Aleone’s) are great supporting arguments. Is it actually all that funny that Kinue literally breaks down and cries during her flashback because she can’t play golf anymore?

As a non-golfer, sure, it can seem silly. But in her own mind—and that of a sufficiently attuned viewer—it’s genuinely tragic that her dreams are forever beyond her reach. The episode’s very title is “No Matter How Tall a Weed Grows, It Will Never Reach the Sun”, a hard-truth proverb that some people are simply better than others at things for reasons well beyond anyone’s control. Wanting to do something is not the same as being good at it. It’s a tough lesson, and it’s not one everyone handles with terribly much grace.

Kinue at least, has found her answer. Unable to compete in the tournament (or by the sounds of it, much of any golf, at least for now), she passes her dream on to Eve and Aoi. I will fully admit that it’s strange to say this, but, as someone for whom criticism was perhaps a third or fourth-chosen life path, I actually related to this super hard, and I think Kinue might be my favorite member of Birdie Wing‘s secondary cast. In my mind, there is validity in seeking to uplift others’ dreams if you can’t truly attain your own.

Eve and Aoi have no such problems, of course, and inevitably, it’s them who are chosen to represent their high school in the doubles tournament. This, presumably, will form the show’s final arc.

Birdie Wing will not appear in this column again. I intend to review the series, and at this point I should focus as much on the big picture as I do individual episodes. But single cour though it is relegated to, Birdie Wing has been, and continues to be, an incredible ride, and I am happy to have gone on it with all of you.

Summer Time Rendering

There are a lot of things that are surprising about Summer Time Rendering. One is simply how popular it’s been despite the fact that a certain streaming service is still holding its English release in proverbial prison. Unofficial releases float around anyway, of course, and via a heavily-dialectical fansub (based on the manga’s translation), many people have found one of their Spring favorites regardless.

For me, Summer Time Rendering—unusually spelled name and all, it’s a pun—is a peculiar beast. Another, at least to me, is just how well-made it is. Maybe I’m just out of touch with the genre, but I feel like there aren’t many supernatural thrillers getting made anymore. Summer Time Render does not redefine the genre, but it’s a great take on it thusfar, leaning into the genre’s strong points and mostly (though not entirely) avoiding its pitfalls.

Since a fair chunk of people are waiting for the official release, I’m loathe to spoil too much about the series, even though certain aspects of it practically beg discussion (for example, walking “wow, that’s gender” tweet Ryuunosuke). The core point is that over the course of its run so far, Summer Time Render has managed to be both hair-stands-on-end spooky and one of the best action anime airing right now. That’s pretty impressive, although OLM rarely deliver anything but top-notch productions, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.

The Executioner & Her Way of Life

I have to admit, I fell behind on The Executioner & Her Way of Life for a while, which is why it’s been a bit since it showed up here. I’m glad I caught up this week in time for the finale, though. (Which will have already aired by the time you read this, although I won’t be covering it, if I do, until next week. Lead times and all.)

Since we last spoke, Executioner has turned into a full-on horror film. That’s not to say that its isekai (and more generally, fantasy) trappings have gone anywhere, but it’s rapidly become clear that the world Executioner takes place in is, if anything, even more fucked up than we thought. For its tenth episode, Executioner gave a sensible motive to arc villain Manon Libelle (Manaka Iwami, just in case I forgot to credit her before). There, we learned that Flare killed her mother before telling her that she was not worth killing. Why? Well, despite her mother being a Lost One, Manon herself is just an ordinary girl, and there’s nothing taboo or forbidden about ordinary girls, no matter who their parents are. Quite rightly, this fucked Manon up—something she actually acknowledges, in what is either the show being a bit too clever or the character herself gussying up her own backstory—and her whole plot over the show’s second half has been driven by a desire to attract Menou’s attention so the executioner will kill her as well.

We’re not actually really here to talk about Manon, though. She dies in the second half of episode 10, and the mysterious mute girl we’ve been seeing occasionally for a while now (Anzu Haruno) formally takes over as the show’s main baddie. Her name is Pandaemonium, and she is fucking scary.

Not just because of the full-on gnarly body horror the show starts deploying as soon as she shows up, although that certainly helps. There’s some arcanobabble in here about how she can’t die because she uses herself as a sacrifice to resurrect herself, a sort of Magic The Gathering infinite loop combo as applied to some truly grisly storytelling. The real reason she’s frightening—at least to me—is her cavalier attitude toward all this. She cheerily introduces herself to Menou and starts announcing her summoning a horde of demons like she’s hosting a B-Movie marathon (a term she actually uses, which raises questions of its own). All the while twisting her own head off in a way that is, sincerely, super fucking grotesque.

But of course being introduced to this total horror villain who spouts blood and cheeky metatext in equal measure is just step one. Menou has to actually fight her, too. Episode 11 only deals in part, though, with that particular fateful encounter, because there are quite a few other things going on as well. As Menou—and eventually, Princess Ashuna, as well—fight off Pandaemonium, Akari encounters her, too. There is a lot of exposition, here. The key point is the revelation that, at least if Pandaemonium is to be believed, Akari cannot actually meaningfully change her fate. Even when Akari declares that she has no desire to return to Japan, Pandaemonium taunts that she’s failed to have Menou kill her every time so far for a reason. Someone, possibly Flare herself, is interfering.

Other things Pandaemonium says about her are similarly upsetting. Perhaps the most so is the notion that Akari’s lack of desire to return to Japan stems firstly from the fact that she can barely remember it anymore—using one’s Pure Concept powers erodes their soul, including their memories—and secondly from the fact that she wasn’t treated well there. (We see only a brief flash of her being bullied, but that’s really all the context we need.)

In a way, this is both a literal advancement of the plot, but also a step backward for Executioner. As a social outcast using the other world as a way to escape the life she once lead in her own, this recontextualizes Akari as very much a typical isekai protagonist, even if the specifics are different. I’m unwilling to call this a letdown, because it’s likely that this is on purpose on Executioner‘s part. And indeed, part of the point Pandaemonium makes—and she isn’t wrong, exactly, even if she’s only saying it to get under Akari’s skin—is that Akari’s actions are inherently selfish. No world, after all, exists for one person alone. But all this is a bit of a curveball as the show heads into its finale. I do wonder if it might end up with a pretty common fate for anime that adapt still-ongoing works; ending without resolving much of anything at all.

Still, there is only one way to find out. The finale awaits.

Elsewhere on MPA

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