Tag: Uchi no Shishou wa Shippo ga Nai

Posted on in anime, Anime Orbit Weekly, Misc. Anime

Ranking Every 2022 Anime I Actually Finished from Worst to Best – Part 3

“Ranking Every Anime” is a yearly, multi-part column where I rank every single anime I finished from a given year, from the very worst to the absolute best. Expect spoilers for all anime covered.

In some ways, this is the hardest part of the list to write. The stuff I liked pretty much without reservation, but which I still felt didn’t quite make the very top. But honestly, what else is there to say? At this point, you all know what you’re in for. Let’s get to the “solidly good to great” part of the list.

#17. The Case Study of Vanitas: Part 2

Remember 2022 as a banner year for the anime vampire. Two of the three shows on this list that involve them come primarily from the same hand, Tomoyuki Itamura, yet, they couldn’t be more different. 

The Case Study of Vanitas, which entered its second season back in January, is fundamentally a dark fantasy series. It’s tinged with romance, drama, and sly humor, but everything is filtered through the church glass that composes its specific brand of vampiric fantasia. 

Of course, the actual reason, so far as I can gather, that most people like Vanitas, is its shameless sensuality. Yes, this is probably the only thing on the list I’m going to outright praise for being horny, even as it ranks higher on the Problematic-o-Meter than most things I watch. Do you like men? Women? Both? Vanitas has a character or six for you to mercilessly simp for, and I do consider that something of a positive, if done in a way that makes emotional sense, as it does here. The vast reservoirs of easily-flustered bisexuals in the world are an untapped resource, some might say.

But on top of that, Vanitas’ second season also has a pretty compelling actual plot, featuring closed-off secluded worlds of snow, haunted by a twisted take on the already-spooky tale of the Beast of Gevaudan. The series’ gothic sensibility serves it well, here, as the sweetness that lightened up much of the first season turns decidedly sickly. (And even so, there’s still quite a lot of steaminess in the second season. Seriously, if you’re into that kind of thing you owe it to yourself to watch this.)

#16. ESTAB LIFE: Great Escape

If there’s a unifying thread for the anime of 2022, it might just be that a lot of them were really fucking weird. Novelty of premise is pretty easy to come by in anime, a medium that, moreso than many others, is pretty unashamed of its inherently pulp nature and will often race to the bottom to come up with the most bizarre thing possible to get more eyeballs on a project. Even so, Estab Life stands out for strangeness not just of premise but of execution. How many anime this year were both all-CG affairs and had an episode about the Penguin Stasi? As far as I know, Estab Life is the only one.

Sporting some strange mix of the traveler story genre, a droll-as-hell sense of humor, and decent action anime fundamentals, Estab Life surely stands out as one of the year’s most singular offerings, revolving as it does around a group of “extractors” whose job is to spirit away those unhappy with their lot in a bizarro future dystopia to one of the many other future dystopias—a collection of them now makes up what was once Japan. Even the stylistics and actual narrative aside, there simply aren’t too many anime with transgender yakuza magical girls and giant Facebook Like thumbs in them. But maybe you’re the sort who prioritizes character writing, in which case, I would point you to the fact that resident slime girl Martese is a curiously-compelling lesbian slime girl tomboy, team lead Equa is a quietly commanding presence, and even many of the show’s one-off characters are pretty interesting.

Estab Life is certainly not perfect (I am not huge on how Feres, my favorite of the main trio, is the one with by a fair shake the least amount of character development), but it’s compellingly weird and worth a watch. Incredibly, this strange little train hasn’t stopped rolling. We’re allegedly waiting on a mobile game, as well as a film with the tentative title Revenger’s Road. See you again soon, extractors?

#15. Do It Yourself!!

If the adage holds true that to build a city, one must start with a brick, surely the same is true for homes and the furniture that decorates them.

Thus, very broadly, is the premise of Do It Yourself!!, a gentle iyashikei—one of a few this year—about do-it-yourself crafts, mostly woodworking. The series is packed with enough goofy-pun character names that it might give you the impression that this is a slapstick of some sort. (The lead is named Yua Serufu, and her okay-they-don’t-say-they’re-in-love-but-they-pretty-obviously-are-at-least-crushing-on-each-other crush is a girl named Suride “Purin”, who attends a techy academy where she learns how to….3D print things. Goodness.) 

There is an element of that; Serufu herself is pretty dang clumsy, and her pratfalls are treated as amusing slipups more often than not, but DIY!!’s real core is about how making things for yourself is irreplaceable, not just as a skill but as a passion. It’d be easy for the show to swerve from there into a rote “technology bad” message, but it never really even approaches doing so, and there are even a few scenes that showcase synthesis of cutting-edge technology and traditional crafts.

Indeed, the focus is on that spirit of craftsmanship itself, apropos from another visual treat from the studio Pine Jam, whose strong central staff seem to have developed a habit of putting out a show that simply looks amazing about once a year. (Whether that show is any good otherwise is another question, see Gleipnir near the bottom of the 2020 list.) This is apropos too for the year that brought machine art to the public sphere of discourse. It’s a topic that is probably not going away any time soon, but DIY neatly sidesteps any similar question with its own answer; isn’t there plenty of joy to be found in the process of creation itself?

#14. My Master Has No Tail

Is Rakugo having a bit of a moment? Probably not, but My Master Has No Tail airing in the same year that brought us the unexpected Jump hit Akane-banashi made me think. The two aren’t really terribly similar, but they share a key piece of subject matter in the traditional Japanese comedic storytelling art.

Our protagonist, Mameda, is a tanuki infatuated with the art form, since inspiring strong emotions via telling tales is a form of “tricking” people. But what begins as a fairly straightforward comedy / niche interest manga reveals itself to have a beating heart focused on Mameda’s own place in the world, and that of other beings like herself. (Her master Bunko is a kitsune, for example.) In the process, it places not just specifically these stories but, in a broader way, all popular stories, in a specific cultural context. Specific episodes deal with the process of passing artistic traditions on from master to pupil, and with Japan’s transitional Taisho period as a time when old things—both old ways and creatures like Bunko and Mameda themselves—are being lost to the tide of modernism. In this sense, there’s a surprising edge of slight melancholy to My Master Has No Tail.

Even so, this is primarily a comedy, and it’s a pretty good one. Both the rakugo itself and Mameda’s own antics are a light brand of amusing that never feels like it’s overstaying its welcome, even with the series’ absolute dumbest jokes. (One of the character’s nicknames being “Butt”, anyone?)

#13. Princess Connect! Re:Dive Season 2

It often comes across as a backhanded compliment to say that an anime’s best trait is that it just looks really good. It feels like you’re implying a deficiency in some other area. But if that’s ever the case, it certainly isn’t so for the second season of Princess Connect! Re:Dive, which thundered back after a year’s absence way back in Winter to blow basically every other isekai anime that aired this year out of the water. (It’s the last example of the genre you’ll find on this list, in fact.)

That said; this doesn’t mean that the story isn’t also worthwhile—it’s actually quite interesting, a novel take on the genre that manages to make it feel meaningful and substantive again in a year that was absolutely swamped with mediocre isekai. But, of course, the visuals and the writing go hand in hand. Princess Connect’s sideways spin on the genre means nothing without its phenomenal visuals; in particular, the fight scenes give a real weight to its fantasy heroics in the series’ latter half. What you have with Princess Connect is the Proper Noun Machine Gun on full autofire; the series builds on so many classic tropes, both from isekai and from fantasy adventure in general, that it risks drowning in them. But that never happens, it just builds and builds and builds, until its final stretch lights up into a blazing, spectacular show of fireworks. More than anything, this one is a treat for the chuunis out there. All spectacle, but pure killer, a whirling show of pyrotechnics that is never less than a total blast.

#12. Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club Season 2

The dream lives on! While its younger sister Superstar floundered in the season that followed, Nijigasaki High School Idol Club made a strong return this year. Its second season wasn’t the blow-the-doors-open affair that its first was back in 2020, but the anime’s personable sense of purehearted sincerity remained even as it dipped into ever so slightly more dramatic territory. Old characters paired up into duos while new ones took the spotlight as solo stars, in a turn that somehow managed to do what Superstar failed to despite the higher character count overall. Most notably, two equally-fun polar opposites; the queen diva / secret idol otaku Lanzhu, and the introverted Shioriko, who has to be convinced to not prematurely give up on her fledgling dream of being an idol. Smaller character arcs like “Nana” finally giving up the facade and revealing to the whole school that yes, she is Setsuna, provide a nice cherry on the sundae, tinged with a slight bitterness not rooted in the series itself, but in the news that her voice actor won’t be returning to the role. If she had to leave, this was a good note to end on.

Nijigasaki’s remains a world where anyone can be an idol. There’s a kind of beauty in that, and the show’s strength comes from playing it very well. Even still, 2022 was home to more than one legitimately great idol anime, and I hope you do like idols and other girls who make music, because these aren’t the last ones on the list by a long shot. But first, something a little more….violent.

#11. Akiba Maid War

Is it a yakuza series? A deeply ridiculous comedy? Why not both? In a year of anime making the most out of completely absurd premises, Akiba Maid War might’ve gotten the most blood from its particular stone. On the surface there’s not anything terribly special about something deciding to subvert the old moe’ tropes by making the girls that embody them engage in mob war violence, and if that’s all AMW were doing it would be way farther back on the list. 

On top of that, this is also another entry that feels unstuck in time. People don’t really remember this whole trend anymore, but there was a wave of these anti-moe comedies around the turn of the new millennium, where much of the joke was simply that the characters enacting the absurd hyper-violence were cute girls. Most of them weren’t really particularly funny and have accordingly lost their charge now that the thing they were parodying is simply the norm. Fortunately, because Maid War clearly loves all of its influences, it manages to paradoxically pull off being that kind of slapstick-with-firearms comedy, a fairly played-straight yakuza series, and even sometimes genuinely cute, all without really even breaking a sweat. 

The sheer amount of small touches in this thing helps, too. My favorite example being the fact that most of the one-off maid characters who (spoiler alert, here) tend to get killed at the end of their episode are voiced by famous seiyuu. The crowning example being Aya motherfucking Hirano in the show’s penultimate arc. You don’t get anime that are this singularly their own thing super often. Despite its fairly obvious influences, and the several other interestingly retro anime that aired this year, Akiba Maid War stood in 2022 as an army of one, and accordingly, and this might just be the most underrated anime on the whole list.

#10. Waccha Primagi

The language barrier does strange things to relative popularity between Japan and the anglosphere. For the most part, the anime that are popular over there are popular over here, and vice versa. But there are exceptions, and kids’ shows are a wealth of them. Pretty Cure is the most obvious example, but one of that series’ main competitors, the Pretty Series—no relation—is up there, too. Waccha Primagi, like the other anime in the series before it, is ostensibly a promotional tool for an arcade game. Does this matter at all when evaluating the series? I’d say not really. I’ve never even seen the game in action, but despite that, I love this anime to pieces.

It’s fair to ask why. The fact of the matter is that Waccha Primagi is not the most polished anime on this list by any means, and its nature as a promotional tool means that it can at times feel repetitive. But there is really just something about it. The strange magic-filled world it conjures, where humanity and the animal “magic users” live in parallel to each other but come together to put on magical “waccha” idol concerts? That’s step one. Step two is the sheer amount of heart this thing has; its characters are candy-colored archetypes, but most pop with a rare amount of personality, be they the smug Miyuki, the anxiety-riddled gamer / idol otaku (yes, another one!) Lemon, the sporty Hina, or the princely Amane. Even Matsuri, the comparatively ‘generic’ lead, has an important role to play both as the audience proxy and as the lead for her partner, Myamu, yet another of the show’s most endearing characters.

But a broader picture than all that is Primagi’s actual plot. Waccha Primagi goes to some truly buck-wild places over its four cour runtime. Individual episodes contain straight-up gay confessions, simmering tensions between the human and magic-user worlds that threaten to erupt into full-on war at any moment, light satire of reality TV, a big bad who’s an entertainment and social media mogul, and carefully studied pastiches of the ancient “Class-S” genre of yuri, something with which its young target audience is wholly unlikely to be familiar. By its final stretch, one hardly bats an eye when Jennifer, the local Beyonce analogue, ascends to vengeful Sun God-hood to try to free her girlfriend from a magic diamond prison. And yet, the last two episodes strip all of that back away in an instant, and are hearteningly sincere instead. Waccha Primagi truly can do it all.

There were better anime in 2022, perhaps, but none hit higher above its weight class.

Well, alright, that’s a lie. One did. But we’ll get to that.

In the meantime, in spite of all of its strengths—and more than one kickass OP—Waccha Primagi was still not quite the best idol anime of 2022 either, as we’ll get to. Like I said, it’s been a hell of a year for the genre.

#9. Kaguya-sama Love is War! -Ultra Romantic-

Shot through the heart, and who else could be to blame? Love is War! makes a swing for personal notability by being the only anime to rank in the top ten both of this year’s list and of the one I did back in 2020. Why? Because it’s never stopped being just really fucking good. 

The mind games that gave the series its title finally die down here in the last act of the first half of the series (the second, which goes in some pretty out-there directions, has already gotten off the ground via a theatrical film that we probably won’t get over here in the US for a while). But the show itself doesn’t really slow down for even a second. If anything, the third season is defined even more strongly by fun, stylish visual work, with all of its old tricks acquiring a heart motif that serves as the central symbol of the school festival arc. (In terms of filtering a fairly conventional story through delightfully out-there visual work, it really only had one competitor this year. We’ll get to that.)

And of course, capping it all off, is that scene. Spoiler alert, but not really, right? A first kiss raised to such ridiculous, whirlwind heights of idealized romance that it could get just about anybody’s heart pounding. In Kaguya‘s case, it was enough that it called for a really fucking funny Gundam homage. (Mute that video, just as a heads’ up.) Truly, the character there—Karen, a minor character in Kaguya-sama proper but the lead of one of its spinoffs—is all of us. The real question is what Kaguya and Shirogane are going to do now, with the entire direction of their lives solidly changed?

We’ll find out before too long, I’m sure. The first kiss never ends, you know.

#8. Call of The Night

If The Case Study of Vanitas was a little too gothic for you, and My Dress-Up Darling’s particular brand of steaminess didn’t really get you going, maybe this particular ode to nocturnality, originally from the pen of Dagashi Kashi author Kotoyama, would be up your alley, as an interesting and unexpected midpoint between the two.

In Call of The Night, we have a romance that doubles as an apply-as-you-please metaphor for the outsiders of society. Normal people do not walk around their city in the middle of the night and get entangled with vampires. This is your first clue that CoTN protagonist Kou Yamori is not, in fact, a normal person. What kind of “not normal” is a sort of grand, moving-target metaphor that resists any single easy interpretation; I’ve seen him described as neurodivergent, as a closeted queer person, and as several other things beside. The fact of the matter is that, as a living symbol, he’s all of these and none of these. His relationship with Nana is certainly charged, but charged how is kind of an open question until the series’ final act, where it turns on its head and reveals that, more than anything else, this is a simple “you and me against the world” sort of tale. The kind I’m a sucker for. The fact that it all takes place almost entirely at night—daylight is a rare intrusion reserved for flashbacks and a tiny handful of other moments—makes it look amazing. This is certainly the most visually impressive series LIDEN FILMS have ever made, and wouldn’t you know it, much of that is on director Tomoyuki Itamura, who not only also did The Case Study of Vanitas a number of spots back, but in years past has done an absolute ton of work on the storied Monogatari series. The guy loves his horny vampires; I can only respect the hustle.

And hey, Call of The Night is probably also the year’s only anime to make compelling use of Japanese hip-hop for its soundtrack, Teppen’s OP theme notwithstanding.

#7. Birdie Wing -Golf Girls Story-

SolidQuentin was a prophet, because Birdie Wing -Golf Girls Story- is some hitherto-unknown kind of genius. 2022 was stuffed with anime that leaned heavily on sheer WTF factor; Estab Life, Akiba Maid War, etc. None could swing as much iron as Birdie Wing. More than anything, the golf girls’ story just doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, which in a lesser anime could be a weakness, but here, it makes the show’s many disparate elements—illegal underground golf tournaments with morphing golf courses, characters who want to be good at golf with an enthusiasm that would put the average shonen protagonist to shame, a huge amount of rich girl/working class girl yuri subtext between its two leads, an incongruous fixation on referencing Gundam—feel whole. Birdie Wing feels like a dimension-hopper from a timeline where “irony” as a concept was just never invented. Every single thing it does is completely sincere; it knows it’s funny, but it’s not a joke. It’s camp, in its purest form.

And truly, the only real point of reference for things that feel like this is stuff like Symphogear. The main difference is that by downsizing that genre’s enormously campy energy to be about something as deeply trivial as golf, Birdie Wing makes the argument that maybe everything is this trivial, and maybe we deserve to have huge feelings about it anyway! Maybe our world isn’t so different from one where people play ludicrously high-stakes golf games with lives and pride alike on the line!

Every time I’ve written about Birdie Birdie, I’ve brought up “Nightjar“, its utterly insane choice for an ED, which carries a full-throated, big-hearted sincerity that, juxtaposed with a show that were even the tiniest smidgen more self-aware, would scan as a deliberate joke. But no, that is the beauty of Birdie Wing; this shit is as serious as your life, do not make any mistake. The only reason Birdie Wing isn’t even higher on the list is that it’s not finished yet. Season 2 airs in Spring, are you ready to tee off again? I, personally, cannot fucking wait. If it hits as many holes-in-one as the first season did, there is a very real chance that it will top the list next year. That’s not a threat; it’s a promise.

#6. BOCCHI THE ROCK!

Here it is, the hardest cut from the Top 5. I did not labor over a single decision on this list more than whether to include this in the Top 5 or put it down here as the “highest honorable mention.” Fun fact; by the time you read this, I have swapped it with the show at #5, by my own count, four times. This was a hard decision. Not the last of those on the list, but probably the one I’ve thought about the most.

In general, there were a solid handful of really fucking good music anime in 2022, let’s just lay that on the table. We’ve already seen a couple, and this isn’t the last one we’ll see on this list, but BOCCHI THE ROCK! might be the most unexpectedly successful. Not in purely commercial terms—although it did well in that regard, too—but in terms of setting up an artistic vision and then following through expertly. Few anime this year not only had this much style but used it to such compelling ends; it might actually beat out the third season of Love is War! on that front. No mean feat, considering how easily that anime turns its own medium into putty in its hands, too.

I will be honest, BOCCHI placing this high on the list is something of an act of course-correction, as well. I liked BOCCHI throughout more or less its entire run, but I really only started appreciating what it was trying to do—and thus, really loving it—pretty late, episode 9 or 10 or so. By that point, the Fall 2022 season was on its way out and I felt that I hadn’t even remotely given the show its well-earned due. But if Kessoku Band are a fill-in act, they’re a pretty damn amazing one, so don’t make the mistake of assuming I don’t love them or that this is a pity award, nothing could be farther from the truth.

BOCCHI THE ROCK!’s main point is to watch the title character, Hitori, alias Bocchi, herself grow as a person. She begins as an anxious wreck in the vague shape of an internet-famous guitarist and, by the end of the season, she’s still that, but she has not just a band but friends now. The thing is, if BOCCHI had simply adapted its manga straight, we would not be talking about it very much at all. Instead, BOCCHI THE ROCK’s real strength comes from the utterly absurd stylistic tricks it pulls out to pave the road along Hitori’s emotional journey.

Essentially, BOCCHI THE ROCK is unafraid to treat its characters as props. It’ll stick them on popsicle sticks and wave them around like this is His & Her Circumstances. It’ll render Hitori in chunky 3D and hurl her at a wall of gray blocks. It’ll turn her into a slug because sometimes when you’re this wracked by anxiety you really do just feel like a slug. It’ll have her slip out the bounds of her character outline like Jimmy from Ed Edd N Eddy just so she can look how a panic attack feels. Incredibly, at no point does it feel like BOCCHI is mocking Hitori herself. This is a relatable, we’ve-all-been-there sort of humor, one for the true otaku. This emotional power chord resonated with so many people that BOCCHI eventually overtook even long-anticipated shonen manga adaptation Chainsaw Man on MyAnimeList, in a come-from-behind victory for the socially anxious everywhere. (It doesn’t beat that series out on this list. But what is my blog compared to the will of the people, really?)

At the end of it all, you realize that Hitori is nothing more than an ordinary teenage girl; nerdy, talented but incredibly anxious, in serious need of a shoulder to lean on. And the series’ biggest trick is the ability to roll all that wild craziness into a gentle push on her back; before you know it, she’s shredding onstage. They grow up so fast.

I stressed a lot over that BOCCHI cut in particular. Hopefully the cult of the box of oranges won’t be too upset.

Tomorrow; the best of the best, the top 5 proper.

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

Posted on in anime, Anime Orbit Weekly, Misc. Anime

Anime Orbit Seasonal Check-in: Long Names and Short Stories in MY MASTER HAS NO TAIL

Anime Orbit is an irregular column where I summarize a stop along my journey through anime, manga, and the related spheres of popular culture over the past week. Expect spoilers for covered material, where relevant.

Of the anime I wrote first impressions on at the top of the season, My Master Has No Tail was and remains the most obscure over here in the USA. Its charming but unflashy production values and art direction as well as its somewhat niche subject matter have meant that it was basically destined to fly under the radar since day one. I loathe this phrasing, so I tend to avoid it, but it really is hard to conceive of something more quintessentially Japanese than a show about a tanuki learning rakugo.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t good. In fact, I’d actually put My Master Has No Tail ahead of several other “slice of life” anime this year. Partly, it’s simply that I’m a sucker for a good piece of art about the process of creating art itself. 2022 has felt light on those; anime that enshrine the creative and performative process itself as something worth valuing and holding on to. My Master Has No Tail is good enough that it’d stand out even in a year with more of them, but being the proverbial droplet in the desert has definitely made it mean more to me personally. (It’s not totally alone in this venture, mind. Earlier this year there was Healer Girls. This very season we have BOCCHI THE ROCK! Still, Master simply hasn’t picked up the fanbase that matches Bocchi, or even the more muted reception to Healer Girl.)

The anime’s tenth episode zeroes in on this to an even greater extent than the series previously has, as it heads into its final stretch. This episode focuses heavily on names, both in a general sense and several specific examples; that of the routine that features here, that of the previously-nameless Mameda herself, and on the tradition of name inheritance in rakugo as a field. In this way, it illuminates the importance of passing these artistic traditions on; from teacher to pupil, down through the generations. (The core conflict set up here is, in fact, about someone who doesn’t want that to happen.)

Mameda has, by this point in the series, been living with, and been the apprentice of, her master Bunko for some time. Except; the heads of Japan’s other major rakugo lineages aren’t having it. Mameda has to pass a test from all of them; the first was last week, and this week’s episode centers around the second. Her examiner, as it were, is Enshi Kirino, a cat-like rakugoka from a rich family who speaks in a dragging, laboriously slow monotone unless a metronome happens to be running nearby. (In which case, she can talk at normal speed. Though her tone is still informed by a sense of smug mischief.)

Perhaps not coincidentally, this is where the show finally makes use of “Jugemu”, probably the most well-known rakugo routine of all time, and certainly the only one that most western otaku are likely to be familiar with, if only because it’s referenced in anime, manga, and basically every other field of Japanese pop culture pretty often. The test put to Mameda is very simple; she merely has to memorize “Jugemu” from Enshi’s example (she has two opportunities to observe Enshi, in fact), and perform it perfectly. No mistakes allowed; not a single syllable out of place.

Enshi’s instructive performance is fairly interesting on its own; she puts a tightly-wound and almost mechanical spin on it, possibly in a deliberate attempt to psyche Mameda out, something her voice actress Ayana Taketatsu leans into quite well. Initially, Mameda just can’t commit the bit to memory. A problem when the entire premise of the routine is the title character thereof having a ludicrously long name.

Nothing helps until she thinks to meditate in the woods. There, for the first time, Mameda faces her fears in an honest way; she’s scared of failing the test, because failing would mean being kicked out. And she doesn’t want that because being under Bunko’s tutelage is the only place where she’s ever felt like she’s truly belonged. That realization is what makes the routine eventually click for her, and she recites it to Enshi, who in turn, is enraptured enough by Mameda’s performance—despite Mameda being totally exhausted at this point—to fall into reminiscence about her own master; the previous Daikokutei. Bunko‘s own master.

“Jugemu Jugemu Gokō-no Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyōmatsu Unraimatsu Fūraimatsu Kūnerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakōji-no Burakōji” – Mameda.

The episode ends with Enshi presenting Mameda with a paper fan on which she’s written her own name. I do not actually know for certain if this is some sort of traditional gesture of esteem in rakugoka circles, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn so. In small moments like this, My Master Has No Tail is as compelling an argument for the arts as any other that’s aired this year.

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.

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.

Posted on in anime, Seasonal Impression Roundups

Seasonal First Impressions: The Tricky Art of Telling Tales in MY MASTER HAS NO TAIL

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.

To hear some tell it, there’s a lack of wonder in the world these days. Yes, if you put your ear to the ground or gaze out your nighttime window you might understand; once again, the world is changing.

Of course, we’re hardly the first generation to deal with this sort of thing. And My Master Has No Tail, an ostensibly straightforward gimmick comedy based on a 4koma that’s been running since 2019, might seem like an odd vessel to even briefly touch on that idea. But it belongs to a growing body of available-in-English Japanese pop media set in the Taisho Era, so it has more reason to think about the subject than one might assume.

But we’re starting in the deep end of the pool here; let’s back up a moment. On a premise level, My Master Has No Tail is pretty straightforward. Enough so, in fact, that instead of wasting time and effort, why don’t I just drop the relatively succinct official English summary right here, verbatim? (With VA credits added by yours truly, of course.)

Throughout time, supernatural, shapeshifting tanuki loved playing tricks on humankind. One plucky tanuki, Mameda (Mao Ichimichi), is no different. But there’s one big problem. She wasn’t born in the days of yore — she was born in modern, more cynical times! How can she fulfill her mischievous tanuki destiny when supernatural hijinks are a thing of the past? She finds an angle when she meets Bunko (Hibiku Yamamura), a master of the Japanese art of rakugo, which uses storytelling to beguile its audience. Mameda is determined to use rakugo to cast a spell on humanity, but first this tanuki trickster must convince the no-nonsense Bunko to take her on as an apprentice.

My Master Has No Tail – HIDIVE Official Summary

So yes, it’s about a tanuki—the supernatural kind—getting interested in the art of rakugo and trying to get a successful rakugoka to take her on as an apprentice. This simple premise belies two things; one, a genuine appreciation for the artform the series is centered around, and two, some interesting musings on the Taisho Era itself, and its nature as a transitionary period in human history. Of course, that must coexist with the fact that it is, at the end of the day, a comedy. The primary goal here is to charm you and make you laugh. If it can get you to think, that’s more of a nice bonus. (But an important one!)

Indeed, the first half of the opening episode is about Mameda’s attempts to trick people in the city of Osaka. But her pranks—trying to pass off leaves as money, attempting to spook policeman by appearing to have no face, etc.—go awry, and end up making the townsfolk cross with her instead. Disheartened, she eventually finds her way into an entertainment hall, where Bunko, her to-be mentor, is performing. She finds herself unexpectedly enraptured by the story that Bunko tells, and she likens it to her own quest to deceive humans. (By the end of the performance, she’s had such a good time being “tricked” that she actually looks rather drunk, which is pretty funny.)

Bunko’s story is done well, too. It is (apparently) a well-known stock rakugo routine, but she tells it well, and the world of the show is supplanted by sketched, pastel drawings to enhance her tale.

The rakugo bit itself elicits more sensible chuckles than full-on belly laughs, probably owing to both the age of the bit and the simple fact that an Anglophone audience isn’t necessarily going to pick up on all the subtler details. (Certainly, I’m including myself there.)

After the performance, Mameda finds herself surrounded by angry townspeople, who recognize her from her earlier pranks and attempt to chase her out of the city. She’s cornered on a rooftop and nearly falls to her death because she forgot that, as a female tanuki, she lacks the comically large balloon-scrotums that are traditionally ascribed to the creatures. (Yes, that’s a real thing. Folklore is wonderful.) Luckily, she’s rescued.

By Bunko.

Who is piloting a flying boat.

Bunko’s musings; on the nature of human development, on the fact that both she and Mameda, as creatures of myth (Bunko herself is a kitsune) will soon no longer have a place in their world, and on the nature of storytelling, put an intriguing spin on the series’ solid but otherwise fairly simple first episode. This sequence exposes My Master Has No Tail as having a thoughtful emotional core in addition to its simpler concerns of comedy and charm. Bunko herself serving as the wise—if reluctant—mentor figure rounds this out nicely.

The episode concludes with Mameda deciding to stay and committing to studying under Bunko. Whether or not the fox spirit is interested is an entirely different question, and I suspect that much of the comedy of the weeks to come will involve the inherent push-and-pull baked into their dynamic. But capping things with a nice bout of quiet introspection is a nice trick, and while something like this is never going to find a massive Anglosphere audience, I do hope it finds one that appreciates it for what it is. It’s a subtle sort of magical; like all good stories are.

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