On Monday, shortly after watching four lackluster premieres in a row, I shot out a grumpy tweet hoping that the spring season had gotten all the boring anime out of the way in one go. The anime gods heard my prayer, cackled madly, and then proceeded to drop nine shows in my lap, eight of which were, at the very least, pretty good, even if they weren’t all my thing.
Some of the stuff in my “on the fence” pile is there simply because I had to draw a line somewhere or the season was going to crush me under titles. Granted, it could all fall apart pretty quickly, but staring at a potential watch list of 12+ shows for the first time since last summer is–well, daunting, but pretty exciting, too. Maybe this anime thing ain’t so bad after all.
Guaranthreed
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Tanaka-kun is Always Listless (Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge)
In a sentence: High schooler Ohta and his perpetually languid best friend Tanaka navigate the day-to-day absurdities of life in this deadpan comedy.
This might have been my favorite premiere of the season, and yet I completely understand why a lot of people were lukewarm about it. Tanaka-kun is as sleepy as its titular character and as relaxed in its pacing as it is its jokes. The series never hurries through its mini-stories or makes any real attempt to push its gags onto the audience–instead, bits of silliness build almost unremarked upon one another in slow increments, until suddenly I realized how ridiculous the whole premise was and found myself with an almost nonstop case of the giggles.
The art is soft-edged and minimalist, focusing on expressions and the occasional bit of clever sight gaggery, and Tanaka and Ohta have a comfy back-and-forth that’s all too easy to ‘ship (though I’ll happily take a bromance, particularly given how rare it is to see a slice-of-life anime comedy that centers around an easygoing friendship between two guys). All in all, this is the anime equivalent to sitting outside on a sunny day joking around with your closest friends, and it left me with a big smile on my face. Bring on the next one.
Attack on Trains Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
In a sentence: Attack on Titan but on a train with steampunk and also zombies!?!?
From the studio (Wit) and director (Araki Tetsuro) that brought you Attack on Titan comes Kabaneri, astory so similar it’s practically AoT AU fanfiction. Walled cities, hordes of human-munching monsters (“Kabane”), steampunk technology, corrupt governments more concerned with saving themselves than their people, lots of loud admonitions about not giving in to fear… so, yeah. Attack on Trains, indeed.
This first episode is bloody, brutal, lightning-paced, unsubtle, cinematic, and… really damn fun, actually. And while the world and premise feel mighty familiar, the main characters–a tech geek action hero and chipper bell-wearing badass–very much have their own flavor, and I already like them better than their AoT counterparts. If you can get past (or fully embrace) the similarities to a certain smash hit, Kabaneri could turn out to be an entertainingly dumb, wild ride.
Kiznaiver
In a sentence: Seven students are kidnapped and forced to take part in an experiment that enables them to experience and share one another’s pain.
Kiznaiver‘s premiere is mostly table-setting both in terms of plot and theme, full of pop-philosophical musings, big speeches, and self-aware nods (we’re told our seven students represent the “modern” seven deadly sins, which basically equate to common anime archetypes); but it balances this by calling out its own characters’ pretension (“yo, your big speech about sin was really just a way for you to trash-talk people you don’t like”) and filling the frame with bright, distinctive Trigger animation.
Lengthy expositional speeches aside, there’s a worthwhile conversation in here about empathy and peeling back the “trope mask” to unravel the real person underneath it, and I very much hope we get to have it. I love the foundation on this one; here’s hoping it can build a good structure atop it.
On the Fence
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Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto (Sakamoto desu ga?)
Sakamoto is cool. How cool is he? So cool that his classmates resent him for being so cool, and try to expose his uncoolness, and then are so impressed by his continued coolness that they’re all won over by him. Sakamoto is gleefully absurd and I laughed a whole lot during this premiere, but it’s definitely more a gag- than character-driven comedy, and the animation is low-budget to the point where I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off just picking up the manga (although having Midorikawa Hikaru voice the protagonist is a pretty big draw). I’m definitely coming back for one more, but I’m not quite ready to commit to more than that.
Shonen Maid!
This one sounds creepy on paper (boy moves in with his bachelor uncle and starts working as his maid), but it looks to be a pretty sweet family-oriented story about the problems of pride, loneliness, and what makes up a “home.” There’s potential here for an emotionally honest character-driven dramedy, and maybe even some gender role commentary along the way…assuming the series can keep its “shotacon” impulses in check, at least. Chihiro is never sexualized, thank goodness, but there is an element of “let’s shove this kid into cute costumes against his will” that doesn’t always sit right. Still, I feel like this is the kind of series that could prove to be sneakily charming and affecting, so I’ll cross some fingers and stick with it for another episode at least.
flying witch
Flying witch is a calm little fantastical slice-of-life about a witch who goes to live in a small town with her cousins while she attends high school (because a career as a witch isn’t so stable these days, y’know). It’s down-to-earth and understated, driven with a steady, confident hand that’s more interested in building its cast into fleshed-out individuals than playing to common character types. It’s good, but I’m not sure a series this low on plot can get away with such a low level of energy, too…or at least, I didn’t think it could until that magnificently weird ending scene. Flying witch may prove too relaxed even for the gal who adored Tanaka-kun, but after that finish, it’s fully earned a Round 2.
Hai Furi
Cute girls–ON A BOAT! Well, actually a battleship. I was expecting exactly nothing out of this one and it surprised me by jumping into an action-driven story line and potential conspiracy plot right out the gate, building its world with fast-paced, organic ease. I spent the entire episode struggling with the inherent absurdity of putting a bunch of unsupervised teenagers in charge of a battleship, and the characters are so far a pretty stock collection of cute-girl tropes–but dammit, I really wanna know what the heck is going on with their teacher and the mutiny accusation! I dunno how long I’ll stick around, but it looks like I’ll be back next week.
And the Rest
Netoge: And you thought there is never a girl online? (Netoge no yome wa onnanoko ja Nai to Omotta?): A not-bad premise about navigating online and offline identities is made bad via the magic of excessive fanservice and stock characters. Par for the course when it comes to most light novel adaptations, basically.
Three Leaves, Three Colors (Sansha Sanyou): Fairly cute and full of Studio Dogakobo’s trademark Silly Faces, but it doesn’t have much of a hook beyond “three cute girls with different personalities and backgrounds hang out at school together.” Feels a bit like a second-rate Love Lab. Not bad, just not for me.
Image may be NSFW. Clik here to view.We have a tendency to go into a bit of a mid-season slump with AoS in terms of story fluidity and general writing, a trend that began last episode and continues into this one. I wouldn’t call it bad so much as uneven, as there’s some last-minute backstory insertion and lazy character writing happening in Hydra, but then some really good (and much-needed) character work going on around Team SHIELD. Throw in the promise of a Secret Warrior mission, and while I might not be terribly high on this one, I’m already bouncing in my seat for next week.
While Yeerk!Ward hosts a cult meet ‘n’ greet so he can reveal his true form to the faithful (tentacle-dreads!), Malick takes a trip down memory lane to that one time he chickened out of a pact with his brother and kinda-sorta got him sent to the Desert Otherworld. Yeerk!Ward (I guess I can just call him Hive at this point) is taking a similar stroll, seeing as how he briefly possessed Malick’s brother and retains all his angry, festering memories. I’ve been viewing Hive as a frighteningly cold, level-headed antagonist, but all those swirling memories and personalities suggest he might be a lot more volatile than expected. Watch yourself, Phil. Ward’s still in there and he can’t be happy with you.
Malick spends the entire episode convinced Hive is out for revenge, and he’s right, but–surprise! turns out exposing his cowardice in front of his only child, then killing her, and then insisting they’re gonna be BFFs from now on is waaaay more vengeful than just killing him. I’ll give AoS credit for the unexpected twist, but it also marks our second fridging of the season, and this one’s pretty sloppily managed (we saw Stephanie for all of 60 seconds a couple weeks ago, meaning they introduced her specifically so they could murder her and shake up Malick’s relationship with Hive–and via a gross Kiss of Death, no less!), so I’m docking them some major points for that one. And thus April 2016’s proud tradition of killing off female characters continues.
Speaking of festering memories and vengeance, Coulson now gets to deal with all those repressed feelings about murdering Ward, throwing himself and his team into intelligence-gathering missions so he can avoid the emotional ramifications of knowing he crossed his own moral line. Fitz frames it as a “big picture” issue and argues that Coulson did the right thing, but for Coulson it’s about his personal motivations–about why he did it. The ends have always been his justification for all the morally gray means, but he doesn’t feel he has that this time, and it leaves him shaken.
Aaaand speaking of shaking (I am the master of the segue!), Ol’ Shake ‘n’ Bake get sent on a mission to gather some possible intel from an exiled potential Inhuman, James, an abrasive Australian who didn’t take kindly to all the secrets Jiaying was keeping from them. He’s got a Kree Dragonball on hand, which (according to the archives) was taken from the Kree by “Alveus,” an Inhuman originally designed to command the Kree’s Inhuman army who then turned on the Kree and led the Inhuman Rebellion. Hive, you just get more interesting every day, doncha?
Along the way James drops all kinds of tidbits about the “mess” Lincoln was in the past, which eventually leads to him coming clean with Daisy about the fact that he almost killed his last girlfriend in a drunk driving accident. It’s a good scene that not only calls out that Lincoln is intentionally trying to be “Mr. Perfect” (i.e., Boring) around Daisy, but also makes him sympathetic and…interesting?…this week? I know, I was confused too. But pleased! Hopefully AoS can keep that trend going.
Nothing clever to add. I just think this is a really good shot.
The two have a serious conversation about the importance of honesty (one of this week’s ongoing themes, right alongside vengeance, fear, and the inability to hide from one’s past), and Daisy in turn tells Lincoln about her second, bloody vision of the dead team member in space.
Which brings us back to our other SHIELD mission: Recon at an agro-chemical facility tied to the Transia company (the one Hydra took over last week). While Simmons pieces together a theory about their enemy’s true form (a bunch of swarming, hive-minded parasites, in essence), Coulson and May go after Giyera to figure out what Hive is trying to steal–or possibly hide–from this agro-chem company. Given that they were studying ways to make plants and animal resistant to “invasive species,” it’s highly likely Hive’s got a major weakness he’s trying to cover. More on that in the future, no doubt.
Confession: I kinda like Giyera, and that’s 100% Mark Dacascos’s fault for giving him dry little gestures like this.
May takes out Giyera in a neatly staged fight sequence in an empty white room, but SHIELD security just ain’t what it…no, actually, it’s about exactly where it used to be. Giyera escapes, takes out the team (poor Phil and his RoboHand…), and somehow manages to remotely land their plane as he’s doing it. This seems like cheating.
So, uh… pretty much our entire team just got captured. But not to worry! We’ve got two Inhumans on the way, and while they may have cleared up the secrets between them, they’ve got a few others that might just save the day. The episode had its definite weak points, but I am super hype for the next one.
Afterthoughts
I’m in transit and short on time, so I’ll leave the post-episode chatter and analysis to you lovely readers in the comments. I expect a 500-word essay on the thematic significance of Paradise Lost and no less than three bad puns. Pokemon references are, as always, worth extra credit.
Now I’ll leave you with this screenshot of two besties bein’ cute together:
Simmons was adorably morbid about how scary birds can be.
So I guess Giyera’s “non-biological object” limitation also extends to dead plants and animals, since he can’t seem to manipulate clothing. In other words, yeah, he’s basically Magneto.
SHIELD continues to make Hydra an oh-so-charming embodiment of white privileged conservative culture. In the span of 30 minutes, they managed to write Stephanie Malick as this…how do I describe it? The Conservative Ideal of the “Powerful” Woman, I guess? Complete with internalized sexism (“man up!”) and subservience (“let me get you that Scotch”). A part of me thinks that could’ve been worth exploring in more depth, but another part of me is a little relieved she’s out of the picture so I don’t have to watch her fawn all over Hive for weeks.
According to my super-fancy Interweb search, alveus has a few different meanings in Latin. The most important is “beehive,” but it can also mean “hollow/cavity,” which also strikes me as fairly apt. The more you know~☆
“Great. So instead of shooting us, he’ll just bludgeon us to death.” I missed you last week, Mack.
I mentioned on Twitter on Friday that the final Sailor Moon recap was delayed, and while I’d hoped to have that out to you before the weekend was over, that’s very much not going to be the case now. A bit of a perfect storm of real-world priorities and surprise sicknesses took precedent, and I want to make sure I get all this finale stuff right, so I’m taking my time finishing the post(s).
At this point I’m not entirely sure when I’ll have it out to you. In a perfect world, it’ll be Monday or Tuesday. In a not-perfect world, it’ll be Friday. I promise you I’m working on it when I can and doing my best. Thanks for your patience, and stay tuned!
After a few weeks of table-setting, Agents of SHIELD promptly flips that table, leaving silverware and glasses scattered all over the floor as we head into our final season arc. In the process it gives us one of its tensest and most entertaining episodes to date, packed with intrigue, false leads, and enough twists to fill a 1960s dance hall.
Secret Warriors, assemble! Daisy and Lincoln call on Joey and Elena (using Super Subtle Watches that definitely don’tbrightly flash the SHIELD logo, I mean we’re spies for heaven’s sake, that would be a ridiculous tool to give our undercover superhuman team!), forcing Elena to miss her bus and Joey to ditch his date. This had better be worth it, you two!
The human SHIELD teammates regroup as well, leading to a fast-paced rescue mission that takes surprisingly little of the episode’s time. They even manage to kill Mr. Freeze and capture Malick in the process. And Ward Hive is…completely chill about this?
Then we get to spend the rest of the episode trying to figure out which of the Secret Warriors has joined the HiveMind! After a conversation with Malick, who warns that all the Inhumans will come to “worship” Hive, the human SHIELD agents are soon quickly flipping out, locking down the base and frantically searching for some way to figure out who Hive might have turned.
FitzSimmons figure out that Hive’s “sway” works like an infection–in essence, one of Hive’s bug-bits (gross!) digs into the Inhumans’ brains (gross!) and influences them (gross!)–but they have no way of knowing who it is or how to cure it. And as Mack points out, once you start looking for suspicious behavior, everyone seems suspicious: Joey is fidgety and withdrawn after his first kill, difficult for the others to find; Elena is aggressive and understandably wary of government agents, eager to leave the base; Lincoln keeps playing with the Inhuman technology, keeping secrets from Daisy, and trying to pump May full of pain killers; and Daisy is…pretty normal, actually? The most suspicious behavior of all!
Did everyone at home spend most of this episode playing “I Spy” right along with our SHIELD team? I know I did, and I was about 90% sure it was Lincoln, since he’d locked eyes with Hive a couple episodes ago and has been rather dodgy ever since. Pretty much I followed the same line of logic Coulson eventually does, and had myself a little “I CALLED IT” dance party when they find the DragonKreeball in Lincoln’s backpack. (I also laughed hysterically, just as I promised I would if Daisy’s new love interest ended up going Dark Side, too.) Granted, both Coulson and I end up being wrong, but hey, at least we’ll be wrong together!
Before that can happen, though, the lights have to go off in the base, Malick has to get dead, and the tentative trust built between the humans and Inhumans has to collapse. Eventually Daisy works secretly with Coulson to lead her team into a containment chamber, where Coulson exposes Lincoln and puts all the Inhumans under quarantine. The episode even has the gall to give Coulson one of his classic Wrap-Up Monologues and FitzSimmons a cute post-mission romantic beat, leading us to think the mystery is resolved and the episode is over. Except…
Agent SHOCK! Turns out Daisy was part of the HiveMind all along! Since Coulson’s convinced she’s unaffected, he never considers the fact that she designed the containment chamber security and could easily hack into it–which she totally does, breaking out and offering Lincoln a chance to come with her and have Hive fill his own “emptiness” as well.
But Lincoln isn’t into betrayal, especially the kind where Daisy uses his poor reputation to frame him for her own crimes, and refuses. So Daisy takes the Kreeball and the terrigen crystals and peaces out, burying the SHIELD hangar in her wake. Joey is never gonna get that second date at this rate!
But first, a moment to appreciate how much fun Elena has being a superhero.
I have a lot of scattered thoughts about this one, the first being that it zipped right by and I had a great time watching it. AoS does “inside man” episodes pretty regularly, so I suppose I could criticize it for redundancy, but it generally does them well so I have a hard time complaining about it. During Season One, what really made me like this series was the way its creators understood story tropes and audience expectations and did their best to play with them. Skye and Ward hook up? Nah, he’s a bad guy! Skye loves him anyway? Nah, she thinks he’s an asshole! Not to say the writing is perfect (look no further than their handling of Rosalind’s and Stephanie’s deaths for proof that it isn’t) but there’s often an attempt to swerve away from the obvious answer that I find rather refreshing.
AoS has, at different times, gone with both the expected and unexpected answer, which helps maintain tension during episodes like these. In the back of my head I kept thinking how much more interesting it would be if Daisy was the one who got turned by Hive, but then deciding the creators would never actually go that route because Protagonist!, so it would likely be Lincoln based on previous information. That they went with Daisy (and had her use that previous information to throw Team SHIELD off the scent as well) gives this season a lot of new potential, and I’m both nervous and excited to see how that develops.
There’s a question here, I think, of how much is Hive directly controlling the Inhumans he draws to him and how much is him choosing Inhumans who are already drawn to his ideals. Some commenters here have suggested Daisy might go “the Magneto route,” and while I don’t see it going quite that far, I do think she’s shown herself to have some of the same flashes of protectiveness towards other Inhumans, arrogance about the advantages her powers give her, and a willingness to use extreme measures to achieve her goals.
Add to that her lifelong search for a home and the sense of “otherness” that being an Inhuman has brought to her relationship with the rest of her SHIELD family, and it’s not hard to see how Hive’s message of Inhuman pride and unity could be appealing to her, making it all the easier for the infection to take hold. Based on the episode previews it looks like Daisy will be struggling between her personal loyalties and Hive’s control/influence, and I’m curious to see how that battle plays out.
On the creepier side of the equation, Hive has all of Ward’s memories and even referred to Daisy as “Skye” at the end there. We’ve seen how the people he’s possessed have affected his own personality and decisions in the past. I very badly need AoS to stay away from any “romantic” (read: rape) subplots here, as the infection/mind control element leads to all kinds of issues with consent that I have no interest in seeing play out, particularly given AoS‘s poor track record with mind control seduction story lines.
Outside of Daisy’s story line, this episode is largely about faith, whether that’s on the cosmic or personal scale. Malick likens Hive to both a god and a devil who “lets you destroy your own world.” Coulson doesn’t put much trust in higher powers, but he does have faith in his team, a faith that’s tested and arguably broken this week thanks to the rift between the Inhumans and the humans and the secrets that build up because of it. Both sides feel like they’re under attack for different reasons, and the withheld information (even if it’s withheld for the “right reasons,” as May suggests) only increases that feeling. SHIELD is desperately low on field agents right now, and this week may have lost them some much-needed extra help.
The other tidbit that stuck with me has to do with fridging and vengeance. I mentioned at the end of last half-season that, between Ward, Hunter, Coulson, and Fitz, I wondered if AoS was trying to explore White Knight Syndrome in some fashion–and maybe critique it, given how poorly all their plans tended to turn out. That comes up again this week when Coulson gets Malick to work with him by drawing direct parallels between Rosalind and Stephanie, encouraging Malick to channel his anger and focus on revenge.
Nice work on the half-light, half-shadow composition during these Coulson/Malick scenes, by the way.
But then, at the end of the episode, when he’s talking to Daisy about Lincoln’s supposed infection, he tells her the opposite:
I know you want to destroy Hive for what he’s done to you. We all do, and we will. I know you want revenge. But we have to be better. We have to do what’s best for the team.
Is this unintentional hypocrisy? Or is it just Coulson being pragmatic and saying what needs to be said to the right people? Or does it speak to a deeper double standard, either a gap between humans and Inhumans, or SHIELD’s and Hydra’s ethical codes, or even one between men and women? That, to Coulson, men are allowed (or even expected) to “make it personal” and seek revenge for their troubled or fallen ladies, but that women are expected to be “better than that” and remain detached when a man they care about is the victim?
Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m not sure what this contradiction is intended to imply, or even if it’s intentional at all. But intentional or not, it sure does seem to come up pretty often (you can throw May and Andrew into the mix while we’re at it, actually), so it’s something I wanted to point out and keep an eye on to see how (or if) the season continues to address it.
This, That, and the Other
“I’ve met gods. Gods bleed.”
I confess that I’ve been rather stubbornly keeping the FitzMack ‘ship afloat ever since Fitz admitted that he found Mack attractive…but Mack and Elena are really cute together, so I am A-okay with that, too.
Speaking of ‘ships, FitzSimmons hooked up this week, which means we’ve got maybe half an episode before something tears them apart again. Enjoy your happiness while it lasts, team!
Simmons wishes they’d find something magnificent in space, as if she’d never met Lady Sif or seen Thor’s biceps on TV.
And so we come at last to the end of things. As is tradition, I’ve got a Stars retrospective after the recap, with general commentary on the season as a whole. As for any overarching thoughts about the entire series and my two-year trip through the Mooniverse, I’ve decided to save those for another post tentatively scheduled to go up on May 1.
I thought it’d be fun to make the final post a conversation as well as an essay, so if there’s anything in particular you’d like me to address (from Big Ideas to Favorite Episodes), leave it in the comments, shoot me an email (joseinextdoor@gmail.com), send me a tweet, or drop it in my Tumblr Ask box. I may not be able to get to all of them but I promise to do my best.
For now, though, we’ve got a finale to tackle!
The Recap
Episode 200 – To The Sailor Stars Through Difficulties
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Fulfilling her season-long purpose, Chibi-Chibi (a.k.a. C.C.) (a.k.a. Galaxia’s star seed) (a.k.a. The Light of Hope) (a.k.a. Sailor ex Machina) turns into a muthafuggin sword so Sailor Moon can use her to seal away Galaxia. Basically Galaxia released her own star seed, complete with Sealing Sword, as a fail safe in case she was possessed by the Chaos. This fits with our knowledge up till now and (kind of) (I guess) justifies C.C.’s lack of personality since she’s more vessel than human, so I can roll with it.
Galaxia’s worried enough about this new development to break her own bracelets, going Super Senshi Level Three and switching her alignment from Lawful to Chaotic Evil. But Usagi’s a lover, not a fighter, so she uses the sword purely for defense, still insisting Galaxia can be saved. Along the way she accidentally stabs her, to which Galaxia responds by shattering the sword, Hope, and C.C. all in one go.
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I can’t decide if this is a good thing or an annoying thing, because while it does at least put the resolution of the story back into the hands of actual characters instead of convenient plot devices, it also makes C.C. functionally pointless. There is nothing she does that couldn’t have been done by someone else, so why is she even here at all? I mean, I know “why”–because she’s in the manga–but they’ve cut manga characters before when it didn’t fit with the anime’s story, so that’s not really an excuse. Sailor Moon has usually done a good job of balancing its anime-original content with the source material’s content, but C.C. is a pretty glaring failure, I’d say.
At any rate, Usagi both refuses to give up and to fight Galaxia, rejecting Galaxia’s definition of what it means to have the “courage and pride of a guardian” in favor of her own Super Friendship Powers. She believes there’s still a “fragment of hope” left in Galaxia’s heart, some piece of her who still loves this world the way she once did. And so Usagi strips herself down to her barest self (metaphorically and literally!), pushes through the Chaos and grief, and reaches out to what remains of Galaxia herself.
And, of course, Galaxia reaches back.
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Hulu had to rate this episode “M for Mature,” because NUDITY?! GASP. Think of THE CHILDREN!
The two purge the Chaos from Galaxia’s body, dispersing it out into the galaxy to live in everyone’s hearts side-by-side with Hope. Galaxia points out this means new conflicts will arise, but Usagi encourages her to believe that people will listen to their better halves and not give in to Chaos. Wishing to right her own wrongs, Galaxia shoots off into the Milky Way with the many star seeds at her side, planning to restore them (and their physical forms) to their proper worlds. Granted, all those worlds are dead and full of phages, but if it means Siren and Crow are reunited, I’ll still tag that as a happy ending.
This means the star seeds that belong to our world can be restored as well, and so Usagi’s friends, boyfriend, and plot device return to her in sparkly shoujo glory. Princess Kakyu’s back, too, so our battered Star Lights are having themselves a pretty good day as well. I think we all know what reaction gif I have to use now:
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With the galaxy saved, C.C. disappears as arbitrarily as she arrived, Kakyu and the Lights return to their home planet, and Usagi and her friends go back to their dual lives as students and guardians. She and Mamoru make out beneath an alarmingly large moon as we bookend the series by having Usagi echo her early introductory monologue and the ORIGINAL OPENING THEME, YAAAAS, plays us through the end credits.
And that’s, um… it, I guess. The end!
The Sailor Stars and Gripes Forever: A Retrospective
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Okay. So. I think if you’ve been following along with me then you’ll know I was pretty lukewarm about Stars, and while I mostly enjoyed this finale, my overall feeling is one of disappointment rather than satisfaction. As I’ve said before, I don’t like writing negative reviews–I don’t think they accomplish much beyond provoking conflict and raining on other people’s parades–but I’ve been recapping this show for two solid years now and I can’t just skip this retrospective or lie to you and pretend I thought it was all great.
That said, I have no real, like, “moral” problems with Stars. There are some things I wish it had done better in terms of Big Ideas or Social Commentary, but I don’t think it’s promoting anything actively harmful, either. I know it’s a pretty popular season among Sailor Moon fans and I don’t begrudge anyone their enjoyment of it. I’m glad you liked it! I wish I’d liked it as much as you did, in fact! And I have absolutely no interest in spoiling that for you.
So if you love Stars and don’t want to read about someone who didn’t love it, then this is your chance to close the tab and go read something else. We can part ways for now and geek out together like a pair of proper Mooninites when my series retrospective goes up in a week-ish. No hard feelings, I promise.
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Still here? Then buckle in. If I have to explain why a story didn’t work for me, then I’m going to take the time (and word count) to explain it as clearly as I can.
Let’s start with what I did really like, which was a handful of standout episodes and character beats–Iron Mouse’s absurd farewell episode, Siren and Crew’s frenemyship, HaruMi’s death scene, Minako’s little story arc–as well as the Big Bad and the central idea/argument she helped represent. I think Stars’s heart was in the right place in terms of the story it wanted to tell, and I think that it, like SuperS, did a nice job of using the antagonist as a foil to show why Usagi, for all her flaws, is still worthy of being The Hero.
I finished Star Driver (an Igarashi original project that I kiiiind of adored) a day before finishing Stars, so I can’t help but draw comparisons and parallels, but I think Igarashi is personally very interested in challenging traditionally masculine ideals of strength, and that he uses Galaxia and Usagi to help explore that. Galaxia is the Traditional Masculine Hero, the lone ranger who’s so physically strong she saves everyone on her own…which then leads to isolation, despair, and eventually the dehumanization of others. There’s a fine line between “to protect” and “to own,” between helping someone and trying to control them, and it’s a lot easier to cross that line when you’ve never been someone who’s been on the receiving end of that protection.
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Contrasted with Galaxia, Usagi freely admits that she’s “not that strong” and often needs or just plain wants help from others. Even when she saves the day, she does so in part because of the faith others have put into her, and uses that as her strength. I think Stars, like much of Sailor Moon, very neatly reverses the Classic Hero Ideal, showing how acknowledging one’s own weaknesses and relying on others is its own kind of strength, because it keeps you empathetic and respectful, seeing others as people instead of objects to be acted upon.
Sailor Moon has always been a pretty smart story in terms of how it takes traditional feminine ideals like communication and cooperation and “weaponizes” them, showing how they can be used to defeat “evil” just as well–and sometimes more effectively–than traditional masculine ideals. I love that about it, and I’m glad Stars continued that tradition in its own way.
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Unfortunately, Stars fumbles a whole lot in the execution. You’ve already heard me grumble about Chibi-Chibi the Plot Device, how Seiya was the only Star Light who received a distinct personality despite a ton of “character building” episodes, all the wasted thematic potential, forced drama, and repeated story beats, so I won’t go into detail about that here. Instead, I want to talk about how Stars undercuts its own central message about the importance of others by kind of…ignoring all those others.
With the exception of Minako and maybe Haruka and Michiru, none of the guardians get much in the way of character-focused episodes or anything resembling their own story arcs this season. The Inners’ interactions center almost exclusively around the Star Lights and Usagi, and outside of a few cute touches here and there, they tend to act as a sort of Hive Mind, to the point where many of their lines seem interchangeable. But hey, at least they had lines–Pluto and Hotaru were brought back so they could do almost nothing, and poor Mamoru and Chibiusa were written out altogether. Sailor Moon‘s greatest strength is its ensemble cast, and dropping that in favor of focusing exclusively on a few new characters caused the season to lose a lot of its variety and energy.
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That’s not even taking into account the larger Mooniverse, which the series had built up over the course of four seasons only to ditch here completely. Naru, Umino, Motoki, Unazuki, Chibiusa’s friends, Rei’s grandpa, MY SWEET DOPEY TEDDY…heck, did anyone in Usagi’s family other than her mother even make an appearance? I get that the Moonies’ dual lives would naturally cause them to become somewhat insular, but to have it happen so totally and swiftly feels more like poor writing than a gradual, organic development.
This lack of a supporting cast coupled with the season’s halfhearted star target stories also gives Juuban (and the world at large) a generic quality, robbing the alien threat of a lot of its tension and stakes. I know others have criticized S and SuperS for spending so much time on one-off characters, but I actually think this is one of Sailor Moon‘s greatest strengths: That unlike so many other superhero shows, it treats those being attacked like real, layered humans instead of just random, faceless victims.
In a show that so strongly promotes empathy and redemption, it’s vital that it focus on the people the Moonies save as much as it focuses on the Moonies themselves. In past seasons, we knew who Usagi was fighting for, and had real, specific reasons why we wanted the city and its people to be saved. This season, though? Seeing Juuban covered in darkness with generic citizens getting starvested? There’s no human connection there, no sense of the subjects Usagi protects as opposed to the objects Galaxia controls, and that’s a disservice to the very message Sailor Moon and Stars itself were trying to convey.
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The thing is, for all that, I really don’t think Stars is a bad standalone Sailor Moon season. It doesn’t have a lot of high points but it doesn’t have a lot of low points, either. It’s consistently decent, mostly fun, sometimes annoying, occasionally moving, and flirts with some worthwhile ideas even if it doesn’t always follow through on them. Overall I probably enjoyed it a little more than parts of SuperS and Season One, and maybe more than R as a whole. As a standalone season, I’d be feeling mostly positive about it and ready to see what Igarashi could do with the next arc, now that he’d had some time to get his feet under him.
But there’s the rub, because Stars isn’t a standalone season–it’s the final season, and Episode 200 is supposed to be the series finale. That, more than anything, is why Stars has left me feeling so discontent. It’s like the anime staff didn’t get the memo, because outside of the size of the threat (Stars definitely upped the ante with a galaxy-destroyer, I can’t deny that), nothing about this season feels like The Last One at all.
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Instead of focusing on its central (and supporting) cast, providing them with satisfying story lines to grant them significant growth and wrap up their individual arcs, it ignores and homogenizes them in favor of a bunch of newcomers. Even our “miracle romance” gets shafted so we can cram in a way-too-late-in-the-game love triangle. There’s no tying these events into the founding of Neo Tokyo, no setting us up for the future we know will eventually arrive.
I get that the scouts are still in high school with long (long!) lives ahead of them, and so there’s only so much in the way of a “conclusion” that you can do here, but this season should have, at the very least, led to a significant paradigm shift. We just found out the galaxy is full of Sailors, and it has absolutely no effect on our characters or their lives. Everyone just goes home and the status quo is completely restored. So what changed, really? What makes this an appropriate moment to turn the final page on our story?
I have no idea. And that’s what’s got me so bummed by Stars. I wanted to leave the last episode of Sailor Moon thoughtful and satisfied and Full O’ Feels the way I did at the end of S and SuperS, and I didn’t get that, and that stinks. I don’t want this two-year adventure to end with a grouchy post. That, more than anything, is why I decided to wrap this project up in a week(ish) with a flourish instead of leaving us here with a thud. Hopefully this long-winded critique hasn’t driven you all away, and you’ll be back to enjoy a far more positive stroll down Newbie memory lane. Punny titles are, of course, guaranteed.
This, That, and the Other
Our final episode title is the obscurest of Stars references yet: Ad Astra Per Aspera is my home state’s (totally awesome) motto, meaning “To the Stars Through Difficulties.” How could I resist?
Watching the Star Driver and Sailor Stars finales right next to each other led to an unexpected realization: Igarashi sure does like him some naked ladies. He’s actually pretty good about not sexualizing them in either episode, but the back-to-back nudity-riddled finales struck me as kind of hilarious.
Even HaruMi, Queens of Coolness, thought the Star Lights’s sunset transformation was A+ 100% Awesome.
…Wait, did Usagi seriously never realize that Seiya had romantic feelings for her? HOW?! Just HOW?!
Hark! A finale point! Lackluster finales aside, these recaps have been a blast, and reading all your reactions (new and nostalgic) has been a ton of fun, too. Feel free to chime in with your own thoughts, and let’s chat about it again in a week or so, okay?
Hive’s endgame is revealed, his army grows, and the gang find themselves with a major victory totally eclipsed by their more recent failures. Oh, and a ‘ship long in the building sails with a flourish out of SHIELD harbor. Why does that make me even more nervous?
Mack and May catch us up on HQ events with a nice long take (I love long takes), then our ragtag team is off to chase leads and rescue Daisy! According to our R&D Duo (R&Duo?) Hive’s infection attacks the pleasure center of the brain, flooding his targets with so much dopamine that they can even shake off the effects of some toxins, making Icers useless against them. This…may complicate things a bit.
Fitz, Simmons, and Mack go after a former Transia scientist and current transhumanist, Holden Radcliffe (John Hannah), who survived Hive’s purge because he’d already been let go for…er, let’s just call it a conflict of interests. Coulson thinks he may be the key to curing Daisy. So Fitz and Simmons crash the transhumanist club peddling Deathlok eye implants in hopes of meeting Radcliffe. In between mission briefings and android ladies, they find time for couple talk, too.
Meanwhile a hobbled Coulson (he broke his leg during last week’s Quake) takes May and Lincoln to track down our old multiplier pal, Alisha, thinking Hive may use Daisy’s knowledge and skills to go after her himself. He also equips Lincoln with a stylish Murder Vest (in case of Hive infection, break glass) and puts his May’s thumb on the trigger. May is so very not cool with this, especially when Coulson essentially tells her that Daisy’s life is more important than Lincoln’s. It’s like he’s channeling a large portion of the viewers, and May is telling us we’re all jerks. Touché, May. Touché.
Alas, Team Coulson spends the entire episode two steps behind Hive: Not only has he already gotten to Alisha, he’s also on his way to James. Seeking out the other half of the Kree artifact (“The only thing that can destroy me,” he said foreshadowingly), he turns James into an Inhuman so he can hook him into the HiveMind, too. By the time Coulson and May arrive (with Lincoln wisely off the mission, thanks in large part to the ferocious power of Mama May’s Disapproving Face), Hive has already booby-trapped the joint.
We circle back around to FitzSimmons for our final act. After weighing a questionably ethical surgery (hey, that guy might have signed a waver! you don’t know!) on the SHIELD Ends vs. Means Scale, Simmons eye-jabs her way into a meeting with Dr. Radcliffe, a fanatical transhumanist with his own particular code of ethics (he’ll test you by having you operate on a “live human specimen”–but work with Hydra?! How dare you, sir!). Fitz bludgeons his way into a sales pitch that nearly sways Radcliffe, but it all goes to hell when Daisy busts onto the scene, scooping up Radcliffe and leaving Fitz quaking in her wake.
Out in the hallway, Hive meets Simmons and channels his inner Will (from my oh-so-professional notes: “WHAT AN ASS”) to give her basically the same speech Daisy gives Fitz (“stay away, we don’t want to hurt you,” etc.). Simmons responds appropriately: by busting out Checkhov’s gun and plugging Hive in his stupid creepy stomach.
Fitz and Simmons escape mostly because Hive and Daisy allow them to, and then commemorate their keen awareness of their own fragile mortality (at the hands of people they used to crush on, no less) by sleeping together. Given AoS‘s track record with couples, they are almost certainly doomed now.
Elsewhere, Coulson and May watch as Talbot’s team at last eliminates Hydra, courtesy of the intel provided by Malick. It’s a magnificent moment of anticlimax; we’ve spent two seasons chasing Hydra as the Main Threat, and now that we’ve finally taken them out it barely matters because they’ve been eclipsed by something more dangerous and less comprehensible. “This should have been a good day” indeed, Phil.
Another strong episode of AoS, this one elevated by a combination of tight plotting, excellent tension (particularly during the FitzSimmons scenes, where shots and silences lingered just that extra half-second longer to create real uncertainty), and brief but important (and sometimes quite funny) beats between characters. AoS is at its best when it devotes attention to both intimate moments and action ones, and credit both director and writer this week for striking a great balance between the two.
This is especially fitting given how much of this episode is about the strain between the personal and the professional. FitzSimmons wonder how best to navigate their working relationship with their past friendship/current romance; Daisy tearfully begs/threatens her working family to stay out of her new Inhuman family’s business; and Coulson values Daisy’s life more highly than he does Lincoln’s because, as he admits to May, “she’s the closest thing I have to a daughter.” The Pheels, team. They’re back and they are ferocious.
Credit to Coulson for admitting to his own mistakes and personal weaknesses, and credit to FitzSimmons for acknowledging that sleeping together will irrevocably change their relationship in ways they can’t predict–it’s one part of that “singularity” in the title–and deciding it’s worth it anyway. As for Daisy…well, that’s where the other of the “singularity” in that title comes into play, I think.
Hive has snuck up on me this season as a quietly horrifying antagonist. There’s an element to his power that’s reminiscent of Jessica Jones’s Kilgrave in that he can override individual will (for my money easily the scariest of superpowers); but where Kilgrave was a very human monster built out of the darkest, most self-centered parts of human instinct and desire, there’s an alien quality to Hive that makes him eerie in a different but equally sinister way, and less predictable to boot.
On a scale of 1 to Kilgrave, how would you rank the creepiness of this snuggle?
Because Hive is a collection of consciousnesses rather than a single one, his thought process is more akin to what you might imagine from a sentient bee or ant. He speaks of ridding the world of war and pain by ensuring that “everyone shares a common goal”–by turning everyone Inhuman and adding them to the HiveMind, it turns out. And as far as we can tell, he isn’t after this for any typically human reason like he’s power-hungry and wants to control others for his own gains, but because he thinks this collective mind is the ideal state of existence.
Most of our AoS antagonists have believed they were doing wrong things for right reasons, which made them compelling figures, but Hive doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong at all. He’s past the singularity, beyond the point of traditional human morality and understanding. He’s a real spooky dude, is what I’m saying.
UGH I wish Jemma really did have a TARDIS so she could go back in time and shoot him all over again.
While Daisy, Alisha, and James speak in fanatical tones about their current euphoria, the uninfected Lincoln is seriously freaked. He sees Daisy turn on the people she was most loyal to, and he sees Alisha kill her own double, and to him it’s two people betraying core pieces of who they are as individuals. Given his own past issues with control, I imagine this speaks to Lincoln’s deepest fears. He becomes a little more interesting each week, and there’s a particular psychological terror here–of seeing people you care about dramatically changed and knowing the same thing could happen to you and there’s nothing you could doto stop it–that’s hard not to sympathize with.
We won’t know for certain how deep Hive’s influence goes until we’re able to talk to one of his HiveMind post-infection. Certainly he speaks to feelings Daisy already had within herself about Inhuman pride and the desire for a proper family. Her line about how Fitz “doesn’t have to pity her anymore” reveals a lot about the way she’s felt about her place on the SHIELD team maybe since the beginning, but certainly since her Inhuman transformation.
Still, there’s a moment between Fitz and Daisy–her eyes full of tears, her hand shaking–where it seems like she’s actively struggling against words and actions being forced into her by someone else. (Alisha has a similar moment after her doubles’ deaths, too.) That Daisy’s and Hive’s speeches overlap suggests a psychic connection bordering on direct mind control. Whether he does it all the time or just at key moments has yet to be seen, but I suspect there’s more to this than just dousing Daisy in dopamine, offering her the one thing she’s wanted most, and everything else being her own actions. (Choice vs. control is a big question this week, as you probably noticed.)
And hell, even if there isn’t more to it, Hive is still drugging her and manipulating her. He’s proven himself adept at manipulation in a way that’s so natural he never actually seems to realize he’s being manipulative, which just adds to that sense of cold, clear cruelty at his core. And can you even call it cruelty if there’s no malice behind it? Or is there malice behind it, built out of the memories and personalities of the people he’s possessed? Is this Ward’s revenge–against Daisy, against Coulson–as much as it is Hive’s impartial scheme?)
Whatever the case, Team SHIELD had better find a cure for this infection, and fast.
This, That, and the Other
Quick, someone with a better memory than me: Of the original SHIELD team, who hasn’t shot Ward (or at least Brett Dalton) yet? I know Daisy, Coulson, and Simmons have…and technically May got him with a nail gun in Season 1… Has Fitz? Or should we wait in gleeful anticipation these next few episodes for that to happen?
There’s a brief nod to the Inhuman comics this week when James considers calling himself “Inferno,” but he hasn’t settled on that nickname, so I’ve decided to call him “Sparky Sparky Boom Man.”
I’m sure that line about “cold hands” was more about Simmons still being rattled than some dark foreshadowing, but I’m still freaking out about it for no good reason.
In between all the tension and character development, there was also some fun banter this week. Here, have a few of my favorites:
“Coulson has another way. But it’s risky. And irresponsible.” “Then why are you smiling?”
“Do you think scientists only wear lab coats? Are we wearing lab coats right now?” “Yeah, we walk around all day with goggles and gloves on, do we?”
“What are your muscles made of?” “…Me?”
“Okay, the leg hurts a little.” “Maybe you should get a cybernetic one.” “Too soon.”
Don’t mind me, I just fell over under the weight of my watch list.
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I hemmed and hawed about exactly when I should post this sucker. Due to a combination of already offset premiere dates and delays caused by the Kumamoto Earthquake (a list of ways you can help here, if you’re interested), some of these shows are into their fourth episode while a couple have only aired two. So consider this more a rule of three-ish review, I s’pose.
The number of shows that made it this far is, uh… not insignificant, with a good mix of comedy and drama (or at least loud glorious trashy action) to offer a little something for everyone. Even the stuff on the bubble is really pretty solid, and would have been a lock during last season’s sparser schedule. I’m going to try to be brief here so as not to overload you on word count, but let’s see if I can’t praise some favorites and maybe point you towards your next favorite along the way.
Slice-of-Silliness
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Tanaka-kun is Always Listless (Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge)
This blurb is largely about why Tanaka-kun reminds me of Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun; but first, let me explain how they’re different. Tanaka-kun is more of a straight high school comedy than a self-aware genre parody. It’s less wacky and gag-focused, more relaxed and story-focused. Matching those changes, the characters are more laid-back and generally nicer, too. Tanaka-kun also seems to be a bit more inclusive, featuring what sure looks to be a canonical lesbian couple early in its run.
So, if their tones are so wildly different, why does Tanaka-kun remind me of Nozaki-kun (other than that “kun” in the title, of course)? Because both are good-natured comedies intent on laughing with their characters rather than at them. Because at heart they’re both about accepting others and supporting them in their goals, even if those goals defy expectations or don’t align with your own preferences. Because they’re both focused on celebrating a variety of interpersonal relationships that don’t necessarily fit into neat boxes. Because they understand the central tension in high school between the person you are, the person you want to be, and the person the world wants you to be, and explore that with equal parts humor and affection.
And, of course, because they’re both expertly directed for maximum comedic effect, with a good ear for silences, a good feel for repetition, and a great eye for facial expressions. Even the eye-catches sing with cleverness. Tanaka-kun makes me giggle more consistently and more giddily than anything has since Nozaki-kun. I love its silly cast, I love its sleepy sense of humor, and I love its simple, subtle themes. This is the happiest I’ve been about an anime comedy in ages. I sure hope it lasts.
flying witch
I was on the fence about this one a few weeks ago, but it’s thoroughly won me over with its understated comedy and realistically quirky cast. There’s a down-to-earth quality about flying witch that you don’t often see in anime, integrating rural realism with magical realism in a natural way that makes the oddity of the magic seem as normal (or maybe as bizarre) as weeding a garden or trying to catch a wild pheasant. I have a weakness for quiet, “realistic” fantasies, and flying witch fits squarely into that category.
It’s even more laid-back than Tanaka-kun and more slice-of-life than a pure comedy, so it likely won’t work for everyone. But if you want an upbeat, amusing, and soothing way to end your day, I can’t think of many shows better than this.
Action League…Now!
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Attack on Trains Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
I hate how much I love this show. It’s an enthusiastically stupid series about superpowered steampunk nerds battling prejudice and hordes of the mindless undead. It shoots forward like the train its characters are riding, pausing for the occasional familiar-but-well-staged emotional beat before careening off again with slapstick (not good), angry redshirts being angry (repetitive), or wild, giddy plot twists (glorious!). Kabaneri often feels like the stitched-together, reanimated body of a line of action titles that came before it, but whoever reanimated that body sure put a lot of juice in it, because damn can that corpse dance! Production values are high and I’m having a ton of fun. Let’s see where this runaway locomotive takes us.
My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia)
I really like MHA, although it’s such a “what you see is what you get” kind of series that I never have much to say about it. The series has the same buoyant energy and earnest love of the superhero genre that you’ll find in some of the more optimistic, YA-focused comics on the market in the U.S. (like Squirrel Girl) that I adore. The action scenes are exactly what you’d expect from BONES–bright and bouncy with just the right amount of sketch and stretch for effect–and it balances a cheerful sense of humor with a ridiculous amount of heart. I’ve both laughed and had misty eyes through all four of its opening episodes.
It’s still too early to say exactly where Deku’s story is going, but I’m enjoying the cast and the show’s sincere, simple message about the value of helping others. Check your cynicism at the door and then buckle in for a fun, heartfelt ride.
Bungo Stray Dogs
Igarashi’s latest project is kind of a mess. It’s visually busy to the point of overload at times, galloping forward at a one-part wacky, one-part dramatic pace that leaves little room for character development and often drops reveals and exposition loudly into the audience’s laps. I’m not even entirely certain it’s coherent.
But boy, it sure is a lot of fun. With the exception of one male character who keeps getting “comically” sexually harassed, I’m pretty much unreservedly enjoying this one. Brightly and expressively animated, frequently funny, and never dull, it blazes forward confidently, dragging hapless protagonist Atsushi and the viewers along on a disorienting but exciting trip. I’m conflicted about its overall quality in terms of both what it’s trying to say and how well it’s saying it, but I can’t deny it’s one of the shows I most look forward to each week. Watching Japanese writers duke it out with supernatural powers is just my kind of goofy action series, I s’pose.
Two shows written by Okada Mari. Two shows about less-than-likable people having bad things happen to them. Two shows that fall somewhere between a guilty pleasure and a hatewatch…I’m just not sure where yet.
The Lost Village (Mayoiga)
See above tweet. That pretty much covers it. The Lost Village feels like intentionally trashy suspense/horror, with a cast of characters that are more like over-the-top online personas than actual humans, a meandering plot, and a total lack of concern or affection for any of its cast or plot points. It’s a mesmerizing, expertly crafted pile of mystery trash, and I can’t stop watching the damn thing. Mizushima and Okada win, those jerks. I’m likely stuck with this one till the end.
Kiznaiver
I truly believe Kiznaiver has good ends in mind, but man, am I not okay with its means. The second episode is a “wacky” torture session to force the kids to reveal their deepest secrets to each other and therefore tighten their bonds with each other. It’s a pretty sickening breach of privacy, a forced confession that viciously undercuts the show’s (apparent) message about the importance of personal bonds, the inevitable effect each person (no matter how isolated) has on others, and understanding someone else in order to better understand oneself.
Human connection can be forged out of overcoming difficulties, sure, but real emotional bonds are created through choice–out of freely choosing to trust someone with parts of yourself, whether vulnerabilities or flaws or ideals or hopes. And no one should be forced to do that against their will. This staged, manufactured “connection” built on physical pain and coercion is unhealthy and superficial, and no amount of colorful Trigger art or stretchy animation can gloss over the troubling methods on display here.
So why am I still watching? Because the conversation is an interesting one, no matter how clumsily (and unethically) Kiznaiver is expressing it, and it is evoking a strong reaction, even if it is a negative one. Mostly, though, a part of me hopes the show knows this set-up is as fucked up as I do, and is heading towards a twist that will express that. I can’t guarantee I’ll be here till the end, but for now I want to see where Kiznaiver intends to go with its bright, goofy, disturbing little story.
Fencesitters
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While I haven’t officially dropped any of these yet, don’t be too surprised if they aren’t a part of the midseason review:
Joker Game: I’m interested in this one from a very clinical, “ah, so this is how a writer from another culture depicts and discusses World War II” perspective. I’m completely uninterested from an emotional perspective, given that this isn’t a show about people so much as one about riddles and political plots, nor is the art/animation (while perfectly competent) much of a draw, either. Also, intelligent shows that think their audiences are dumb and have to lay everything out through copious flashbacks and exposition are one of my biggest pet peeves. There’s a decent chance I’ll keep watching out of intellectual curiosity, but I doubt Joker Game will ever be a show I wait for excitedly each week.
Shonen Maid!: It’s hard to judge a show after just two episodes. So far Shonen Maid is cute and feel-good, but not nearly as cute and feel-good as Tanaka-kun or flying witch. Plus there’s still that whiff of “cuteness” fetishization with Chihiro not dissimilar to the cute-girl genre that just doesn’t sit right with me, even if it isn’t sexualized. I appreciate that the story’s trying to do something different with gender roles, but I’m not sure that’s enough to keep me around for the whole season.
Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto (Sakamoto desu ga?): Like Shonen Maid, we only have two episodes to go by. It’s funny but more mean-spirited than I generally want out of my anime comedies, and the second episode tackled both bullying and relationships between girls in rather unsympathetic ways. I laughed, but I was irked in retrospect, and don’t have any burning desire to watch the next one.
Returning Guests
I’m only watching two sequels this season: Concrete Revolutio (still good!) and, surprisingly, Sailor Moon Crystal. I never finished the Black Moon Arc, but there was enough buzz around Season Three that I figured I’d give the premiere a try. And it’s actually pretty…fun? Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t have near the level of style, depth, and silliness that the S anime did (so far anyway), but it has energy and personality, as if the people working on it actually give a damn now. As long as that keeps happening, there’s a high probability I’ll keep watching.
Shorts
You know what’s becoming a fun and occasionally even insightful story about (hetero) female teen adolescence? Space Patrol Luluco!You know what’s a cute kids’ show about an adorable seal? Shonen Ashibe: Go! Go! Goma-chan. Because this watch list didn’t have enough shows on it already, doncha know.
There’s a possibly game-changing MCU film on the horizon, but our SHIELD team doesn’t have time to press pause and set the stage for that. No, they’ve got their own set of small-screen problems that increasingly feel like they’d fit right at home on a big one: Alien invaders, super-powered battles, strained loyalties, and two sides moving ever closer to an explosive confrontation. Bring along your camping gear, team. This one’s intense.
After a brief flashback to Hive’s traumatic origins (I sympathize with Past Him even if I’m mega-creeped by Present Him), we grab the episode’s many plot threads in earnest: FitzSimmons are working on an antitoxin to remove the Hive infection, the rest of SHIELD is planning a targeted strike to kill Hive, and the HiveMind’s new mad scientist is working on a way to recreate the experiments done on the original Inhumans—using live, Hydra test subjects! But Hive’s diluted blood isn’t the same as Kree blood, and the remaining members of Hydra go the way of their Nazi kindred before them.
While Daisy struggles to find a balance between her old SHIELD team and her new HiveMind by simultaneously hoping to turn them Inhuman so she can “make them” understand and promising Hive that she’l tear out their hearts if that doesn’t work, both of her groups move forward with their own plan. May and Mack infiltrate Hive’s ghost town, using resident BlowhardSparky Sparky Boom Man James to gather intel on where Hive has been spending all his down time. Mack and his squad of likable, doomed redshirts go in…only to find the Kreeball calling down the gorramed Reapers who’ve been orbiting Earth in stasis all these centuries.
Hive sends Daisy on an important mission to get live Kree blood while he faces his own greatest fear. Both whoop a lot of “Papa Smurf” ass and it’s way more fun to watch than it should be given that they’re technically the antagonists or whatever, but y’know what? GET ‘EM DAISY! THROW OFF THOSE SHACKLES, HIVE! GO, TEAM INHUMAN!
May’s squad uses the after-fight lull to riddle our Big Bad with so many holes he’ll have to change his name to Beehive (…yeah, sorry, that one hurt me, too). They even try the ol’ Buffy Rocket Launcher trick, just to be safe. It doesn’t work because Hive has ridiculous regenerative powers…but Brett Dalton did just get shot, so…
On the other, far more heart-stomping side of the story, Mack goes off-mission to find Daisy (and Dr. Radcliffe, who is having a very weird day) in the middle of extracting Kree blood from her dying specimen. Convinced she purposely showed up on SHIELD cameras because a part of her wanted them to rescue her, he tries talking to her. But, since both want to “save” the other and neither feels like they actually need saving (more on this later), the conversation turns nasty, with Daisy taking some (not entirely unfair) shots at the way SHIELD changes its own members into the agents it wants them to be. She accuses Coulson of taking advantage of her, denies that Mack ever had a friendship with either her or Bobbi (not cool, Daisy), and even calls Mack a failure of a big brother (SO not cool, Daisy).
Eventually Mack gives up on talking. He tells her he doesn’t want the world she wants and sabotages her Kree experiment, but he still refuses to fight her. This leads to a very painful (in every sense of the word) fight sequence where Daisy beats the crap out of him and he only makes the barest of efforts to defend himself. AoS knows damn well this is the best relationship on the show, and they are BRUTAL in tearing it to pieces here. It looks like it might even end in Daisy crushing his chest Coulson-to-Ward style (my notes here just say “MAAAAAAAACK” for most of a line), but May arrives in time to get him and their team of somehow-still-living redshirts back to base. And through it all Mack’s eyes are again the eyes of sadness and I… I just… I need to talk about something happier, okay?!
But alas, the Downer Episode continues back at base, where a frustrated, increasingly frantic Lincoln becomes a willing test subject, injects himself with FitzSimmons’s antitoxin, and breaks half the lab’s equipment in the process.
LINCOLN used THUNDERSHOCK! LINCOLN is confused! He hurt himself in his confusion!
The antitoxin temporarily shuts down his immune system, so Simmons locks him up in a containment chamber to keep him safe. Oh, and to put the bitter cherry on the depressing sundae, the antitoxin didn’t even work! So, basically, FitzSimmons spent an episode inventing short-term AIDS, and Lincoln pumped himself full of Hive germs and got his brain drilled for nothing. Man, if the poor guy was feeling useless before, this is not gonna help things.
Oh yeah, and Daisy’s offered to let Hive drain her blood to forward his forced evolution project. Today has been just peachy, hasn’t it?
Man, if Civil War is half as riveting as the past couple episodes of AoS have been, it’s going to be a grand old time. The fight sequences were excellently staged (I seriously threw a fist into the air when Daisy owned that Kree Reaper) and the show continued to create excellent tension through uncertainty, particularly where Daisy’s allegiances were concerned. But what really made this episode shine were its character interactions. We’re seeing a lot of season-long arcs bearing emotional fruit now, and it’s made the battles more worrisome and the conversations weightier (and, at times, downright heartbreaking).
I wonder if AoS isn’t setting us up for a pattern here where various (male?) team members take turns trying to get through to Daisy. Last week it was Fitz; this week it was Mack; next week it looks like it might be Lincoln. Are we heading towards a final, Pheels-inducing confrontation between her and Coulson? Or will Mama May, she of the exasperated “okay seriously guys this isn’t about you” have a chance to meet her one-on-one as well, and from a very different perspective?
I’m still halfway convinced AoS is playing with season-long ideas about White Knights and Damsels, especially after Daisy sums up the past two seasons as stories of Coulson’s “Team of Misfit Toys” having to “save” her from other, harmful communities. It’s not an entirely accurate summary—Daisy was rarely (if ever) a passive damsel, and she’s certainly done her fair share of rescuing along the way—but that’s not really the point. The point is that she feels that way, meaning that Hive has given her something else: A sense of control and agency, and the feeling that this time she can save others.
Of course, what she’s really trying to do is foist her own ideals (and arguably they aren’t entirely hers) onto others. There’s genuine appeal to Hive’s talk of “equality” and “peace,” and he makes some valid points this week about how the “greed of a few destroys the needs of the many,” and how (super)power is being consolidated into the hands of the wealthy (Tony Stark) and/or the government (Steve Rogers), leaving the majority of the populace feeling like perpetual helpless victims. But there’s a big difference between offering someone power and forcing it upon them, and Hive’s plan feels a whole lot more like a eugenics movement than a people’s revolution.
Daisy’s repeated desire to “make [her SHIELD friends] understand” is also indicative of this lack of acknowledgment of another person’s free will, as is the use of the word “save” from both our groups. “Saving” suggests passivity, or at least an inability to make good choices for oneself. There’s a lack of trust implied that can come across as insulting to the other person, particularly if they’re not actually asking for help. Ultimately Daisy and Mack can’t reach each other because they’re denying the validity of the other’s agency—their desires, feelings, needs, what have you. Mack may very well be right about how Hive is controlling Daisy. And she may have some good points about SHIELD’s own ability to change people, too. But neither is going to get through to the other if they dismiss their feelings as false right off the bat.
And speaking of Hive’s control of Daisy, credit to the writers for doing some very nice work with the dialogue to show how subtly the HiveMind works. Whenever Hive offers an opinion, by the next scene Daisy is echoing it. He says SHIELD is no better than Hydra and that they “made” Daisy the same way they Kree made him, and suddenly she’s posing those same arguments to Mack.
It reads less like direct mind control and more like quiet emotional manipulation, or even outright gaslighting. (I think it sort of depends on how aware you think Hive is of what he’s doing—like did he really not see Ward’s memory about Daisy’s Kree blood, or did he pretend not to see it so she’d feel like she was volunteering instead of being signed up? I’m not sure myself.) Daisy admires Hive and wants to please him, so she internalizes his opinions, losing a little bit of her initial beliefs along the way. It’s chilling to watch.
Interestingly, though, there’s also some suggestion that the HiveMind might be a two-way street, as Hive echoes her line about “the greatest miracles happening by accident,” tries to have his own “you should be proud of us instead of trying to destroy us” argument with the Kree, and follows through on her promise to “tear out the hearts” of their enemies quite literally. Granted, it’s possible these ideas were already in his head and he had Daisy vocalize them, but I’m personally fond of the idea that she’s having an influence on him as well, if only because it makes their relationship a much more interesting symbiotic one rather than one-sided control and abuse.
It’s hard to imagine that Daisy will go Full HiveMind forever—but what are our options at this point? Given that AoS has called out the “save Daisy” recurring story lines issue, the show is likely trying to find a way to subvert or avoid it this time around. Is there a line she’ll refuse to cross even if Hive asks it of her? A way for her to break free that doesn’t involve others rescuing her? I suspect that’ll be the main question during our last few episodes, and I am not at all sure how it’s going to be answered. But hey—that’s what makes stories so darn fun.
This, That, and the Other
“The frickin’ aliens just landed, we’re not—we’re not gonna take a moment to let that soak in?” I seriously loved our doomed SHIELD newbies this week.
FitzSimmons ‘Ship Update: Still afloat. Still adorbs.
My notes over the past few episodes have slowly devolved into caps lock and exclamation points. By the finale I’ll be communicating in nothing but emojis.
Really hoping Mack getting badly injured this week means he’s out of the line of fire and safe from that promised “death” at the end of the season…
“Were you like this before you got your powers?” “What—101% Awesome? You bet!”
A two-year-long journey through a twenty-year-old classic.
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A couple springs ago, when I was just getting into the planning stages of launching this blog, Viz hit us with some big news: They had licensed the original Sailor Moon, and they were going to re-release the entire series with a brand new uncut(!) translation. And just like that I had my first ever blogging project: A 200-episode series of Newbie Reviews. (So, you know. A nice, easy commitment.)
I loved Sailor Moon‘s directors’ later works (especially Ikuhara of Utena fame), and I knew a little about the series itself, but I really had no idea what to expect–whether I’d like it, or find it too childish, or get trapped in Filler Episode Hell. What followed were 24 months and 100 posts of quips, critiques, praises, giggles, feels, and flails, as I slowly fell in love with the cast, the stories, and the silliness. It was easy to see why the franchise had so many long-time fans. And, as the final credits rolled, I counted myself among them.
It’s been a fun journey, but now that I’m sitting at the destination, I wanted take a moment to look back, talk about the series as a whole, and maybe reminisce about the characters and moments that stuck with me the most. I, er… got a little carried away, and the post ballooned like a Dead Moon Circus tent. I’ve done my best to break it up with my favorite Sailor Moon gifs. Hit the jump to take a leisurely stroll down Memo(on)ry Lane.
Fly Me to the Sailor Moon
(And let me dance among the Sailor Stars)
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Because I’ve already spent so many words talking about individual episodes and seasons, I’ve opted to keep this little series review mostly spoiler-free and to the point, focusing on the main highlights both good and not-so-much. (I am, by the way, putting together a page that will compile all the SM Newbie Reviews in a way that makes them easier to access, so if you’re looking to read those posts I should have something other than the blog category in the near future.)
I think what impressed me most about Sailor Moon is how well the series holds up despite being 20 years old. The animation is limited but bright, using smart direction and expressive faces to make up for the relative lack of motion, so that it generally feels like the camera is active even if the frames often aren’t. Add to this some great voice work and a distinctive soundtrack that improves over time, and while Sailor Moon‘s production values rarely blew me away (although it still did on occasion), it was clear that the people making the show approached it with affection and energy. It still looks pretty darn good even after all these years.
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None of which would matter if the show’s subject material was horribly dated, but Sailor Moon is also cheerfully feminist and remarkably progressive, which allows (most of) its stories to resonate with a modern audience as well. The series presents a wide variety of of flawed, sympathetic, capable female characters (none of whom entirely fit traditional ideas of femininity) and celebrates them for their unique strengths and interests.
Better still, it lets those girls fight with both traditionally masculine and feminine “weapons,” sometimes defeating enemies by punching them in the face, other times saving them through communication and empathy. It also does some nice things with gender and sexuality, featuring canonical queer and gender-fluid characters in a by-and-large positive light (and giving them happy endings, too!). It’s not always perfect (the show has a poor track record with body issues, for example), and sometimes it’s a little on-the-nose, but overall Sailor Moon‘s messages of acceptance and respect translate very well to the modern era–and outshine many newer series, in fact.
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While the series does a great job with its friendships and queer romances, it stumbles more often with its straight ones, focusing too much on tired cliches and bad shojo “romance” tropes. Characters fight over boys, rage with jealousy, refuse to communicate, and ignore consent (kissing the accidentally drunk girl, boooo).
To be fair, most of this happens early and drops off by about halfway through Sailor Moon R (Season 2). The Sato-directed episodes (Season 1 + The Makai Arc) also at times seem to be aware of and directly address these issues, slowly moving the characters away from these unhealthy behaviors and towards a greater understanding and respect for their loved ones’ needs rather than just their own. It’s still there, though, especially the overused jealousy subplots, and serves as one of the major pain points throughout the series.
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Sailor Moon‘s other pain point has nothing to do with story beats and everything to do with structure. Simply put, it’s too long, and this creates a number of small but progressively more noticeable problems.
The first is the most obvious: a lot of “monster of the week” battles and episodes that have little to do with the overall plot. A lot of these episodes are valuable, developing characters and relationships through heartwarming or hilarious one-off stories so that the dramatic moments hit harder, and I will defend this “filler” to the death as one of the things that makes Sailor Moon so darn charming in the first place. But some of that “filler” does cause the story to drag or repeat itself, too. I can’t imagine trying to binge-watch Sailor Moon. Two episodes a week was about perfect for me, I think.
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The more detrimental issue with the length, though, is the lack of continuity. I think a lot of this comes from the shifting staff–Sailor Moon goes through three series directors along with multiple different writers, which can lead to repeated character or thematic beats and individuals backsliding in terms of growth (some of which is realistic; some of which just seems like a new director/writer not knowing what to do with the story).
This also means that, whenever the director changes, a lot of the little elements built into the story–like the supporting cast–all but disappear. So that building romance between one of the guardians and a recurring character? Gone, never to be mentioned again! It only really causes issues twice (during R and Stars), but it means there’s always that uncertainty when beginning a new season, as if you never know when the creators might hit the “reset” button and all those subplots you enjoyed will disappear forever. Image may be NSFW. Clik here to view.
But despite the disjointedness of the entire series, and despite the finale being something of an anticlimax (due in large part to those continuity issues), Sailor Moon is still, I think, a really excellent long-running magical girl series, well deserving of its title as a “classic.” At its best, it’s a warm, silly, and deceptively smart coming-of-age story, touching on all the major issues of adolescence–personal identity, responsibility, friendship, romance, empathy, the expansion of one’s world and role within it–with humor and heart.
It’s packed with lovable protagonists, sympathetic villains, and magnificently goofy comedy (Sato and Ikuhara really lean into the inherent absurdity of the monster fights, much to the show’s benefit). The story arcs take a while to build but usually lead to tense, resonant finales, and the series even occasionally flirts with outright artistic or thematic brilliance (particularly during portions of S and SuperS).
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While I’d be hard-pressed to recommend it to an adult who’s not already an anime fan (it’s very much a YA project, and very much embedded in its magical girl/shojo genres), I think it’s still a great show for kids and young teens, full of positive messages about balancing compassion with confidence and coming into your own as a young adult.
And, if you’re a grown-up anime fan like me, there’s a lot to take out of this series from a historical angle, particularly in terms of (1) the impact Sailor Moon has left on the magical girl and shojo genres, and (2) getting a chance to see the early work of some of anime’s signature directors. It’s a fun series and in many ways an important one, the kind of show that has left a distinctive mark on its genre, its creators, and its many viewers from all around the world. I’m very happy to say I’m now one of them.
The Next Cycle?
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I’ve had a few people ask about what (if any) other Sailor Moon projects I’m planning to blog about here, so I figured we should talk about that before we get to the final goodies. I actually did go back to Sailor Moon Crystal for Season 3 and it’s much better–the creative team has clearly listened to people’s criticisms and worked to resolve a lot of the show’s problems–so I plan to keep watching that for now. I’ve also been reading the manga off and on thanks to a friend’s collection. (It’s..fine. I prefer the ’90s anime.) I’m definitely nearing Sailor Moon burnout, though, so I have no plans to write about either Crystal or the manga in great detail at this point.
I would very much like to do some newbie write-ups on the three films, though! Viz hasn’t announced release dates for any of the movies yet, so I’m not sure when that’ll be happening. Just know that I’ll be keeping an eye out for them and adding them to my queue when I get the chance.
And now for the fun stuff…
The Phases of the Sailor Moon
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With a series this beloved and this dang long, it stands to reason there’s a lot of chatter about “best of”–best seasons, best characters, best episodes, and so on. That’s, uh, not what this is. These are just personal favorites: a loving look back at the series and the people and moments that left the greatest impression, either through laughter, tears, or a little bit of both. Hopefully you’ll find some moments in here that will leave you smiling all nostalgically, too.
Season(ish) Rankings
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The obligatory season hierarchy! I’m cheating a little and splitting some seasons into parts. It’s my list. I can totally do that.
1. Sailor Moon S:The original retrospective is here. Hands-down my favorite season, packed with enough character development, new cast members, and well-timed plot points to justify pretty much every episode. Director Ikuhara (Utena, Mawaru Penguindrum, Yurikuma Arashi) was confidently in the driver’s seat for this one, and it shows in the strong visuals, ridiculous sight gags, nuanced conflicts, and thematic cohesion, leading to a finale that hit all the harder because of its willingness to acknowledge trauma and loss. Great, thoughtful, hilarious, emotional stuff.
2. Season One, Part 2 (Zoisite & Kunzite): It took Series Director Sato (Princess Tutu, Aria) most of two cours to find his groove, but once he did Sailor Moon went from being a mildly enjoyable weekly blogging venture to an engaging, smart, and frequently hilarious series I genuinely looked forward to each week. The Seven Great Youma Arc particularly stood out, as it introduced some of my favorite supporting characters (Reika! Rhett! Ryo! Teddy!) and featured some of my all-time favorite episodes, both silly and serious. Plus, Zoisite and Tuxedo Mask sniping at each other? Priceless.
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3. Sailor Moon SuperS: The original retrospective is here.While SuperS featured some of SM’s most maddening episodes and a loooong stretch where nothing plot-related happened, it also had the best Big Bad, best minions, best visual motifs, best monster battles, best finale, and an excellent exploration of adolescence, change, and the price of eternity. It was also, I think, my favorite season to write about, because there was so much going on (both positive and negative). I appreciated SuperS‘s willingness to do something different than what had come before, even if it didn’t always succeed; and it pretty much always evoked some kind of emotion out of me, even if that wasn’t always a positive one. I’ll take that over a season that leaves me cold any day of the week.
4. Sailor Moon R, Part 1 (The Makai Tree): Sure, it’s pure filler, but it’s really good pure filler, dang it! This little arc served as something of an epilogue for Season One’s ongoing conversations about love, as well as a prologue for the Moonies’ Super Friendship Powers. Ail and An were likable brats who went through gradual, meaningful growth, and their arc set the stage for the long line of “villains” who would come to understand compassion and respect thanks to the scouts. What can I say? It just worked for me.
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5. Sailor Moon R, Part 2(Black Moon Clan): The original retrospective is here.To me, this arc always sounds fantastic when I summarize it; it just wasn’t very well done in practice. The central plot is quite strong, and the Black Moon Clan are (for the most part) compelling, sympathetic antagonists. But the character episodes tended to retread a lot of ground from the first season, the smaller cast led to limited (and stale) interactions, and Chibiusa was insufferable for a good portion of it. I remember almost nothing from this season outside of the main story line, Saphir being a precious cinnamon roll, and one very weird filler episode. That lack of memorability is the main reason it’s as low as it is.
6. Sailor Stars:The original retrospective is here. I would have enjoyed Stars a lot more if it hadn’t been the final season, and I’m forever bummed Director Igarashi (Ouran High, Star Driver) didn’t have a chance to do a movie or another original arc so he could build on the confident voice and sense of purpose he finally brought to the last few episodes. Ultimately, as with R, I find myself remembering very few specifics–but unlike R, I finished this one a few weeks ago, not a year and a half ago. It slots lower because of that.
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7. SailorMoon, Part 1 (Jadeite & Nephrite): If I hadn’t been blogging about it, there’s a decent chance I would have dropped Sailor Moon during the Nephrite episodes. The show stymied badly here, trapped in interactions that relied too heavily on repetitive bickering (Usagi/Rei, Usagi/Mamoru), unable to introduce new characters or move its current ones forward, and stuck with a minion who was so, so dull. The Nephrite/Naru romance does, fortunately, mark the show’s first foray into character complexity and moral uncertainty, and is really the moment when Sailor Moon goes from being a decent kids’ show to a good YA series. I’m glad I stuck with it, but the early episodes don’t make it easy at times.
Episode Highlights
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To keep this from getting out of hand, I limited myself to two(…ish) from each season, and I didn’t review any lists or summaries–instead, I trusted that my memory would hang on to the ones that were worth hanging on to. Also, I’m using my own episode titles, because I have no idea what the real ones are at this point.
S:This was impossible. I juggled about half the season before finally cheating and settling on four: The back-to-back one-two punch of Makoto/Haruka and Ami/Michiru bonding, the absurd masterpiece that is Episode 117, and the big Episode 125 Climax. These together neatly summarize what made S so great: New character dynamics forwarding individual growth; a strong balance between off-beat comedy, action-packed tension, and punches to the heart; and a willingness to touch on difficult subjects of salvation and sacrifice, allowing for more bittersweet conclusions. Plus, I mean, let’s be real: No moment in Sailor Moon history can or ever will top Professor Dad and the Witches 5 playing Twister.
Inner Guardian: I’m sure you are all just SHOCKED to learn that the answer is Ami. Honorable Mention goes to Minako, who grew on me a whole lot over the course of the series, and probably has the most complex, complete character arc out of everyone.
Outer Guardian: Hotaru. Honorable Mention to the other three. Don’t make me choose just one, you jerks.
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Supporting Player: Tuxedo Mask. I ended up liking Mamoru all right, but I freaking loved that dapper, rose-slinging dork in the top hat. Honorable Mention to my other favorite doofus, Kumada “Teddy” Yuuichirou.
One-Off: Rhett Butler! I mean. Obvs. Honorable Mention: For whatever reason, I really loved that little samurai girl from SuperS.
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Monster of the Week: Pooko The Balloon Lady, a.k.a. The Best Thing That Ever Happened to Sailor Moon. Honorable Mention: All of her ball-themed relatives. Special shout-out to the one who got deflated by Tuxedo Mask’s rose.
Minion: One for each season! Zoisite, Saphir, Mimete, Fish’s Eye, and…uhhh…Iron Mouse, I guess. For her final episode if nothing else. Honorable Mentions to Esmeraude, Professor Dad, Eudial, and Tiger’s Eye.
Big Bad: Nehelenia (SuperS only; I wasn’t a fan of her Stars arc). Honorable Mention to Galaxia, who had a good story even if it wasn’t executed as well as it could have been.
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Friend ‘Ship: Can I just say “Usagi and all of the inner guardians”? Her Friendship Powers were a thing of beauty. But if I have to pick just one, I really loved Usagi/Minako. Outside of the main cast, I gotta give some Honorable Mention love to my Ami/Mamoru brOTP, Chibus/Hotaru, and the Siren/Crow “rivalry.”
Hero ‘Ship: He may have been written out of the show, but Ami/Ryo will live on forever in my heart! Honorable mentions to Haruka/Michiru and Luna/Rhett Butler (sorry, Artemis).
…And Ami/Makoto, the non-canonical ‘ship that dances joyously into the sunset.
Villain ‘Ship: You’d think the answer would be Zoisite/Kunzite, but you’d be wrong. It’s Tiger/Fish. Zoisite/Kunzite are totally Honorable Mention, though, no need to worry about that.
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Biggest Laugh: I’m not sure I ever laughed harder than I did during the Jadeite Showdown when Tuxedo Mask stepped up to actually fight for once, circled Jadeite all dramatically…and then fell into the ocean. In fact, I’m still laughing about that. Honorable Mention goes to Professor Dad locked out of his house dumping bags of chips into his mouth while two talking cats discuss strategy right in front of him. This show truly was a gift.
Biggest Gasp: The SuperS finale. Too much beautiful art and animation for me to take. Honorable Mention to Beryl executing Zoisite (ZOISIIIITE!). I knew it was coming, but it still shocked the hell out of me.
Most Feelings: The Amazon Trio’s last episode. Honorable Mention to pretty much everything with Professor Dad and Hotaru. My heart forever breaks for that family.
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And I’m all out of likes to like! I reckon now’s as good a time as any to doff my top hat, swoop my cape, and vanish into the rose-petal-strewn night. As I said in my Stars finale, through all the highs and lows, writing about Sailor Moon these past two years has been a blast. It’s also been a learning experience, as it helped me find my bloggin’ voice, get used to a regular schedule, and meet and chat with a lot of seriously awesome people along the way. So thanks for hanging out with me, and I hope to we’ll be able to flail over great shows together in the future, too!
I leave you with my all-time favorite Sailor Moon gif. Moon Prism Power–signing off!
The political boulder Civil War threw into the MCU pond ripples down to the small-screen this week, highlighting the difference between public officials and private citizens as well as the tenuous balance between security and freedom. It’s tough for me to discuss certain aspects of this episode without bringing in at least general details from Civil War, but since the film hasn’t even been out a week, I’m going to skirt around that conversation for now. Maybe once Season 3 wraps up and I’ve had a chance to see Civil War a second time, I’ll do a longer write-up on the conversation the two stories are having with one another.
The point is, if you’re an AoS-only viewer, you can read on without fear of Civil War spoilers, like how the North wins but Abraham Lincoln still dies at the end. What a twist!
Coulson meets up with Talbot to discuss the wider-reaching affects of the Sokovia Accords–namely that, in addition to putting the Avengers under U.N. custody, they also want to create a classified list of “enhanced” people, including all the newly turned Inhumans. It’s one thing to demand accountability and oversight of a powerful, public peacekeeping organization, but to tag and register private citizens is a serious breach of privacy and a potential threat to their safety, and Coulson’s understandable wary of it. I suspect (and hope) we’ll be dealing with this Mutant Inhuman Registration Act as an ongoing conflict next season, but for now SHIELD has bigger bugs to fry. Like, you know. The friggin’ apocalypse.
The need for transparency and accountability between the various government branches has become a priority (and let’s not kid ourselves: SHIELD is basically an off-the-record CIA at this point), so in the interest of building trust Coulson shows Talbot around their super-secret base. He introduces him to Elena, Lash, and an increasingly disgruntled Lincoln, then clues him in on the whole “Inhuman Parasite who could end all life as we know it” thing. Talbot wonders if it’s too late to return to that state of blissful ignorance.
While the bosses talk general strategy, the rest of the team focuses on the immediate and personal. Fitz fights to keep Daisy out of their systems. Mack struggles with despair and Elena encourages him to drink beer and not lose faith (wise advice on both counts, I’d say). May tells Lincoln to sit down and shut up and eat his dinner like a good boy. Lincoln responds by reaching out to Daisy and asking her to help him escape so they can run away together, “just the two of us.”
AoS continues to use Lincoln’s well-known issues with control and distrust of authority to pull bait-and-switches (with both the cast and the audience), although this time I didn’t buy it for a second. Daisy does, though, and she uses her Magic Comic Book Hacker Powers to not only get Lincoln out of his cell, but also to fly a Quinjet straight to her. Oh, sorry, did I say “to her”? I meant “to Hive.”
“I came here to kick ass and put on a shirt–AND I’M ALL OUTTA SHIRTS.”
And speaking of Hive, he spends this episode going more-or-less Full Mustache Twirl. He abducts a gang of Watchdogs and throws them into a metal crate to gas them with Daisy Blood, which turns them into a bunch of mindless Hive drones. (I mean, I guess it is an improvement on “violent genocidal supremacists,” but that’s not saying much.) Radcliffe is horrified, but Hive likes the cut of their melty, obedient jibs and plans to make more of them. To do it, he’ll need “all” of Daisy’s blood.
In other words, Hive’s “utopia” is a place where he has total control over others. He doesn’t really care about the quality of life or even how many survive, as long as he’s at the center of it and everyone is under his sway. He tells Daisy he wants to “emancipate” humans, setting them free from both their powerlessness and their solipsistic existences, but despite his pretty words he’s not offering a Buddhist-like enlightenment–this is about domination, not Oneness. That he doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice Daisy (someone who will still debate and challenge him even when she’s under his sway) in exchange for an unquestioning army all but confirms that. In the immortal words of Cecil Palmer: “What. A. Jerk.”
Oh–but back to that surprise SHIELD sent him! Whoooo’s ready for an Epic Glowing Anime-Style Chi-Blast Battle?!
The inevitable Hive/Lash clash comes two episodes too early, which is how you know it’s not gonna go down well for our boy in blue. When an anemic Daisy tries to intervene on Hive’s behalf, Lash uses his chest-yanking powers to, uh… yank the HiveMind out of her? Did we know he had precision like that? I don’t think we did. As is often the case, AoS struggles with their Lash story line because they always want him to be a surprise (he’s Andrew! he came back to base on his own! he has magic anti-Hive powers!), and it leads to shortcuts that feel more like lazy writing than carefully planned twists.
And speaking of surprises, as soon as Lash princess-carries Daisy to the Quinjet, he immediately gets stabbed by James (who conveniently returned to base at that exact moment!) and dies. Farewell, Andrew. You were a kind husband, a good psychologist, and a useful plot device. I’m sorry you had to get jerked around by the writers so much, but I am glad, at least, that your redemption came from healing others rather than killing them. It’s a fitting end to a character whose life was built around helping people, and speaks to a quiet victory–the doctor triumphing over the killer, at the very end.
Freed from Hive’s influence, an exhausted, sickened Daisy musters what energy she has left to get the Quinjet in the air and stagger her way back to base. There’s nothing triumphant about this moment, and I suspect we’ll be seeing plenty of reaction to it next week, once the shock dissipates and the reality of the past few weeks sinks in. For now, though, we have to focus on the next crisis: Hive’s still got that warhead he stole, and FitzSimmons suspect he’s going to use it to rain Terrorgen Mist down on a significant portion of the population.
But on the bright side, Elena gave Mack her cross, which is such incredibly obvious foreshadowing that it has to be a misdirect. Mack is safe! He’s gonna make it to Season 4! Which is great, because I love Mack, and also because if AoS had killed off another black character, I might’ve had to throw down.
Now the real question is: Who will be the next member of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Cross? All answers are bad ones. I like this cast too much. Yes, Lincoln. Against all odds, I even like you now.
So Daisy gets rescued after all. I have a lot of conflicted feelings about this, and not just because of the plot conveniences. The more I think about it, though, and the more I move away from my (frankly unfair) knee-jerk “oh look a dude just saved a lady, that’s never happened before” reaction, the more positive I feel about it. Because, sure, Lash just saved Daisy, but it’s not like this is an in-story trend. The gender parity on AoS is really pretty solid (even when it comes to the show’s weaker points, like Andrew existing to forward Daisy/May’s stories while Rosalind existed to forward Coulson’s), with tons of well-written women who are consistently saving the day and the guys’ butts along the way. Having female characters who sometimes need help doesn’t make them weak–it just makes them people. And Daisy is achingly aware of that now, I think.
While it does seem to undercut last week’s conversation about how Daisy is always getting saved each season, there are still two episodes left, so I don’t want to make judgments too soon. I personally wanted her to break free of Hive’s control on her own, but I suspect this is intended to be the stumbling block, the Hero’s Moment of Weakness On Their Journey, where they acknowledge their humanity, come to terms with their trauma, and emerge stronger than before just in time to win the final battle. So if Daisy can bounce back from this and be instrumental in taking down Hive, I think this could be an important part of her story arc, humanizing rather than damselfying. We’ll see where next week takes us.
On that note, I need to give the writing team credit once again for how nefariously well they’ve written Hive. I’ve spent the past few weeks (and many of you in the comments have, too) wondering how much control Hive really has on his “followers,” considering whether part of Daisy’s willingness to follow him is because we’d seen that she already shared some of his beliefs, debating the possibility of a give-and-take between them and just how monstrous Hive truly was. And wow, yeah. I fell right into the trap of the charismatic cult leader, and came dangerously close to victim-blaming along the way. Not cool, Me.
We knew Hive had a grip on Daisy that was based in manipulation and far stronger than just a mentor/mentee bond, and the sheer number of uncomfortable glances she gives him this week made that even more obvious; but it’s not until we see the look of shell-shocked horror on Daisy’s face after Lash removes Hive’s influence that we realize just how total his control really was. Once she wakes up, she doesn’t hesitate. There’s no lingering loyalty, no question of “well his means are awful but his ends are just.” She doesn’t even consider trying to finish off Hive herself. She just gets the hell out of there as fast as she can.
Even before Lash cured her, Daisy knew this was seriously effed up.
Hive speaks of lofty goals. Appealing ones, even. But at the end of the day he’s a controlling parasite, drugging, using, and killing people to forward his own conquest. Worse still, he doesn’t even understand why this might be wrong–doesn’t consider other people’s wants or needs, their agency or pain. Despite his talk of unity, he’s the most self-centered character on the show. Maybe those comparisons to the devil are more apt than I’d originally thought.
This, That, and the Other
Civil War Hot Take: Wow, AoS made a much better case against the Sokovia Accords than the movie did. I still have a lot of problems with Cap’s reasons for opposing the Accords, mind you, but I’m much more inclined to agree with his general position now.
#RenewAgentCarter, because I want Hayley Atwell’s last appearance in the MCU to be a shot of her punching a Leviathan agent in the face, not an obituary photo.
Phil is so, so tired. He doesn’t even have the energy to be upset about Steve or Peggy or Daisy at this point. That look he gives Talbot when he asks him “How are you so calm?” is the look of a person who wants to bury his head in a pillow and sleep for a month. By the end of the episode, Daisy and May share this look, too. I hope everyone gets to go on a really nice vacation when this is all over. They’re gonna need it.
“I run a tight ship.” Kinda wish Coulson had had a mic to drop after that.
We’ve reached the midway point and Spring shows no sign of slowing down or dropping off. From calming comedies to urban fantasies to action-packed (melo)dramas to whatever-the-hell The Lost Village is supposed to be, there’s a lot of variety and remarkable quality, with most shows building on themselves nicely or, at the very least, maintaining a steady course.
While I wouldn’t say there’s a ton in the way of jaw-dropping creative ambition at this point (aside from Concrete Revolutio anyway), if you’re in the mood for entertainment, Spring 2016 has got you thoroughly covered. Hit the jump to check in with our motley crew of anime titles.
Once More Unto the Breach
Image may be NSFW. Clik here to view.
Concrete Revolutio
Grade: A
Having spent Part One laying the cultural groundwork for its world and building to the eventual schisms both within the Bureau and society at large, Part Two now explores the ramifications of those changes, focusing on fractured factions, competing (and often murky) goals, and the many, many shades of gray in which our cast are operating. ConRevo continues to use its colorful world and diverse group of superhumans to discuss and critique a variety of cultural issues, particularly societal prejudices, oversimplification of morality, and the fallacy of longing for the (nonexistent) “good ol’ days.”
It’s critical without losing its sense of humor, smart without being pretentious, and thought-provoking while avoiding long-winded speechifying in favor of presenting its conflicts through debate and action. There’s a lot of fun, charming shows this season, but in terms of sheer ambition and composition, nobody tops ConRevo right now.
Sailor Moon Crystal: Season III
Grade: B
New director Chiaki Kon has breathed life into a show I had long thought dead, and thank goodness for that. Gone are the endless off-model shots, the lifeless storyboards, and glossy, vapid expressions; instead we have a consistently solid and occasionally downright beautiful little series that focuses on key moments between the guardians to build them as distinct characters even as the story clips along at a snappy, plot-focused pace. Snippets of silliness, explosions of flowers, and the occasional burst of dynamic action animation have turned this into an adaptation Sailor Moon fans can enjoy without reservation. Crystal always had the pieces; now it has someone who cares enough about it to put those pieces in a proper, progressive, fun-loving order.
Humor & Heart
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Tanaka-kun is Always Listless (Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge)
Grade: A-
Time permitting, I’ll be able to hit you with some Tanaka-kun mini-essays over the next month, because I love this series, want to talk about it, and think it’s a crime more people aren’t doing exactly that (although that’s been changing a little each week, it seems). For now I’ll direct you to my rather lengthy Rule of Three Review, which continues to hold true for the most part (although the series is challenging my statement about its canonical queer elements, I’m sad to say). Otherwise it remains a matter-of-factly silly comedy, quietly interested in the tension between societal expectations and individual nature while always maintaining an affection for and acceptance of its endearing cast. So, yeah. In case you missed it, I like this one a whole lot.
flying witch
Grade: A-
Goodness, but this is a charming little show. Sleepier thanTanaka-kun, and less about getting you to laugh as it is about getting you to lean back with a soft smile on your face, flying witch is the very definition of the iyashikei (癒し系; healing/soothing) genre. There’s an organic quality to the entire series, from its rural setting to its character interactions to the witches’ methodical spellcrafting, that helps it avoid overused anime archetypes in favor of organic, understated interactions and relationships. It’s cute without being cloying, relaxed without being lifeless, and kind without turning its characters to be perfect, noble beings. If the idea of following a cat around town for 22 minutes sounds appealing to you, then flying witch may be right up your alley.
My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia)
Grade: B+
Right now MHA is suffering from the same issues as a lot of long-running, premise-based shounen series: Slow pacing due to a lot of explanatory commentary and a lack of a clear end-goal. Fortunately it has an earnest heart, a good sense of humor, and a tremendously likable cast to keep its energy levels high even when its overall story is in no hurry to go anywhere in particular.
It’s a fairly classic superhero story, but it does some positive things in terms of exploring privilege and promoting teamwork, and our “jerk rival” character is refreshingly straightforward, an entitled bully whose behavior is understandable but totally unsympathetic. MHA is spinning its wheels a bit right now, but it has enough good parts that if it can find a strong central story line, I feel like it could become something pretty special.
Messy Magnetism
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Kiznaiver
Grade: B
I mentioned during my Rule of Three that I was fascinated by the concept of Kiznaiver–individuals able to literally share one another’s pain–but had a lot of issues with the execution. Fortunately, Kiznaiver itself is aware of many of those same issues, allowing characters to point out the superficiality of their “bond,” addressing the difference between physical and emotional suffering, and (I hope, based on the most recent episode) criticizing the Kizna Project’s coercive methods and manufactured crises. (Here’s a good essay that articulates these concerns better than I could in two paragraphs, by the way.)
Like Bungo Stray Dogs (the other show in this category), its central story is a lot darker than its bright, expressive art would have you believe, and a contrast that aids in the sense of tension and uneasiness that permeates much of the story. Now if only the damn thing could avoid endless love quadrangles and tragic lesbian backstories, we’d really be in business. There’s something worthwhile being explored here. The question is whether Kiznaiver will be able to properly convey it.
Bungo Stray Dogs
Grade: B-
I really like Bungo SD, but I find myself watching it almost entirely for the cinematography and animation rather than the story. It’s to the point where I sometimes realize I’m not reading the subtitles because I got distracted by the color schemes, expressions, motion, and framing. The story itself is less polished, a fairly episodic supernatural procedural coupled with broad, rather dark comedy (the “irresponsible flirt” character is obsessed with death and especially double-suicide, for example) that always seems right on the verge of meaningful development but never quite gets there.
There are a few faint, unifying threads–death, belonging, creating order out of chaos–but at this point I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what Bungo SD is even about, really, other than the very basic “pretty boys named after literary figures solving crimes.” Even so, I find myself drawn to it and excited for the each new episode, trying to connect thematic lines, chuckling at the dark humor, and appreciating its energy and style. Maybe I’m a BONES fangirl after all.
What even is this show? That seems to be the question most viewers are trying to answer. I called it “intentionally trashy” at the three-episode mark, but the further I get into it the less accurate that feels. There’s emotional weight to some of its characters’ stories, a weirdness to its horror elements that can be unsettling if not exactly scary, and it does seem to be focusing on how unaddressed trauma (from the serious to the trivial to the um, what?) can lead to a chain of victimization. So I don’t think it’s completely dumb “bad horror” like I’d originally assumed.
That said, it also tends to undercut its more genuine moments with immediate anticlimax, pettiness, or hyperbole, events escalate at an absurdly rapid pace, and its characters have some magnificently pointless, hilarious conversations and arguments along the way. It’s a series that actively fights any attempt to take it seriously. Isaac at Aniwords has broken down Lost Village‘s directorial and story choices to make a strong case for its role as a dark, absurdist comedy, and at this point I’m inclined to agree. Whether or not you’ll find it funny is a very different matter, mind you. So what even is this show? Hell if I know. But I can’t stop watching it even so.
Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
Grade: A if you like noisy steampunk zombie fights. If you don’t, uh…
I think Kabaneri is pretty much doing what it set out to do: Be a fast-paced zombie action popcorn series that takes place on a train and involves cool steampunk machinery. If that sounds like fun to you, then you’re probably going to have fun. Quick pacing, big orchestral music numbers, and some very nice-looking fight sequences go a long way towards keeping this one exciting, even if those bursts of dynamic animation can sometimes stand out in awkward contrast from the rest of the series.
I’m also fond of the cast, a rag-tag bunch of engineering nerds and female leaders constantly having to defend their positions against the pigheaded prejudiced folks around them. It’s loud, unsubtle action, but there’s a place for that, especially when it’s as entertaining as this.
Short and Sweet
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Space Patrol Luluco: The family and adolescence elements of Luluco are wacky but smartly done, dealing with first crushes, parental bickering, and the sense of being “not normal” compared to those around you. The other side of Luluco is that it’s a marriage of other Trigger series, with heavy references to shows like Inferno Cop and Kill la Kill–shows I know about but have never actually seen. That part is much less fun for me. Still, 8 minutes of space-hopping middle schoolers a week is a fine way to spend a Friday lunch break, so I’m sticking with it.
Shonen Ashibe Go! Go! Goma-chan: Elementary schoolers and baby seals! This show is 100% for small children, but the seal is cute and the jokes make me giggle, so I find myself coming back to it for a relaxing few minutes each week. Grown-up TV is overrated, anyway.
Our season three showdown was bundled into a 2-hour finale that refused to quit playin’ games with my heart, featuring the usual blend of fist pumps, emotions (soooo many emotions), bursts of thoughtfulness, and, yeah, the occasional raised eyebrow, too. There’s a whole lot to talk about, so let’s get right to it.
The AoS creative team is no stranger to understanding story patterns and audience expectations—and no stranger to using them to screw with us, either. A lot of AoS episodes begin in medeas res and then jump back in time to explain how we got there, so it stands to horrifying reason that Daisy and Phil will eventually get trapped in a containment chamber on the Desert Otherworld and NOPE, no, J/K, it was just a dream. Continue to expect this level of trolling for the first 40 minutes, to the point where, if you listen carefully, you can actually hear the writers cackling madly to themselves.
After a mission that ends surprisingly well (missile launch prevented, Radcliffe retrieved, Hive mind-scrambled and captured?!), the team goes back to base to regroup, plan their next move, and wave endless death flags. From Lincoln’s “two days to retirement” to FitzSimmons’s “romantic vacation plans” to the show’s downright sadistic focus on that cross necklace, it’s nail-biting fun for the whole family! Also, in the interest of maintaining my #brand, you will be receiving one bad pun for every time the damn necklace changes hands. You’re welcome.
AoS can be merciless, but killing FitzPuppy is a line they definitely won’t … cross.
On the more emotionally charged side of the story, Daisy grapples with a combination of guilt and withdrawal, spiraling ever deeper into self-loathing and depression. Coulson tries to absolve her of any wrongdoing (“no one blames you”) but she’s having none of it, insisting she “deserves” to be locked up and treated like a criminal. She even compares her own brainwashing to Ward’s, making her actions just as unforgivable as his. They’re not the same, but it’s understandable why Daisy would feel that way, given recent events and her own hard-line stance about personal responsibility.
In the first half’s best sequence, a beautiful moment of friendship and compassion, Mack says “screw protocol” so he can meet Daisy face-to-face and let her know about Hive’s capture. When Daisy tries to push him away (in every sense of the phrase), he forgives her and brings her in for a hug that definitely didn’t wreck me so hard I forgot how to think coherent thoughts or write coherent sentences, I am a professional, dangit, and I—
AoS continues to provide a refreshingly positive portrayal of people of faith, as Mack demonstrates the quiet confidence and love rather than the aggression and bigotry that’s so often associated with it (somewhat understandably, mind, given how loud and awful that faction is, but I still appreciate the nuance). He and Daisy talk about the nature of evil and how it often tries to get people to destroy themselves, and how everyone has a choice between giving in to that darkness or letting “the light” in. It’s a bit cheesy, but Henry Simmons is a good enough actor to sell it. Plus it sets us up for a lot of second half imagery involving fire and electricity (lights) as forces to drive out the darkness, so bonus!
All of this takes a backseat to Shit Hitting The Fan, though, when Hive’s remaining minions priority-mail SHIELD a Terrorgen Bomb (shhh, don’t ask how it got past security—in fact, don’t ask any logistics questions for the next 40-odd minutes). It turns 28 agents into “worker bees” and the base into a freaking horror movie. Kevin Tanchareon is back to direct the final episode (“Ascension”), and you can tell because it has a much stronger sense of cinematographic style and voice than most AoS episodes, and also because the fight sequences are fantastic.
“Excuse me, ma’ma, but do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Hive?”
During this stretch, the ladies to do a whole lotta butt-saving without having to die in the process, which helps maintain gender parity in terms of who saves whom this week while thankfully not adding to the year’s Dead Female Character tally. Simmons rescues first Fitz and then her entire team (by literally blinding the baddies with science), and Elena protects Mack but learns she’s not quite fast enough to catch bullets (where is Joey when you need him?!). In return, Mack, er … if I said he “Roy Mustang’d” her wound closed, would y’all know what I meant? To summarize: Ow.
Meanwhile, Daisy hacks her containment chamber so she can … beg Hive to take her back? Okay, yeah, was definitely not expecting that. It’s one of those story choices that hurts me but is also really, really good character work, highlighting Daisy’s most deeply ingrained weakness—her desire to feel belonging and connection—and driving home the season’s extended metaphor of “Hive as Drug” and the struggle against addiction.
But turns out Andrew’s “cure” made her permanently immune to HiveMind, so she tries to kill him instead. Daisy would have won this fight handily if Hive didn’t have ridiculous regenerative powers, but he does, so he ends up besting her and taking her hostage. But hey, at least Brett Dalton got beat up once more for the road!
Team SHIELD regroups, gets Elena to safety, and mounts a rescue mission that drives home our all-important season-long theme about the importance of free will and choice. There’s a fair amount of fist-pumping and nail-biting in here: May gets concussed, Fitz straight-up kills “murderous wank” Giyera, Lincoln knocks out James but takes a fire bomb to the side for his troubles, and Phil The Incorrigible Dork trolls Hive with a hologram, fires off his own bad hand pun, and makes another Star Wars reference.
Along the way, the necklace winds up in Daisy’s hands (that thing moves around so much it must be really CrossFit by now), and she knows what that means. She’s ready to “accept fate” and “atone” for her crimes, despite Lincoln’s plea for her not to give in to the guilt and the feeling that “she can’t live with” what she’s done, and …
… Er, sorry, I lost my train of thought, BECAUSE H’OMIGOD:
While an awesomely staged fight sequence rages just outside, Daisy gets Hive onto the Quinjet with the warhead, preparing to launch him (and likely herself) into space and explode the whole thing, saving the world and fulfilling her vision all in one fell swoop. Hive points out that Ward’s memories will allow him to use the manual controls, something Lincoln (?!) had also figured out—hence why he got on board and thundershocked them. Surprise! He knocks Daisy out of the plane and takes off for the stars, Death Necklace in hand. (Stealing, Lincoln? Daisy’s going to be quite cross with you for that.)
Given Lincoln’s belief in each Inhuman serving a “purpose” and how desperately he’s been trying to (re)discover his own since Haven’s collapse, this is a surprisingly cathartic conclusion to his own arc. The scene itself is also far more moving than I’d expected given my relative lack of investment in Lincoln (although I didn’t want him to die by any stretch) or his relationship with Daisy. I credit a lot of this to the actors: Luke Mitchell is very good here, playing quiet panic and peaceful sadness in equal turns, and Chloe Bennett is incredible. Her blend of anger, grief, and guilt is visceral and wrenching, and suggests that despite Lincoln’s belief that he “saved the girl he loved,” this is going to hurt her for a long, long time.
… And then the show had to go and nearly ruin the moment by beating us over the head with a frying pan full of Christ Figure symbolism and an on-the-nose conversation between Hive and Lincoln about sacrificing oneself for flawed humanity. “He’s paying for all our mistakes,” says Coulson as the cross necklace floats through the air with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and I have a hard time not rolling my misty eyes.
But AoS is never a show to dwell, so … Flash forward to six months later!, with Daisy “Quake” Johnson on the lam, Team Coulson Mack hunting her down, comments about a “director” and being “assigned” places, and your blogger sitting on her couch just going “Wat. Wat. WAT.” on repeat. Is this a reaction to the Sokovia Accords, perhaps? Or just a natural consequence of Daisy’s recent trauma? Looks like we’ll have to wait four months to find out.
But on the bright side, if Daisy’s working outside the law now, she can totally start hanging out with Bobbi and Hunter again …
It’s fair to say this isn’t the finale I expected. It’s also fair to say it isn’t even what I wanted. I wanted Daisy to rise from that containment chamber alight with righteous fury and go Full Superhero on Hive’s ass. I wanted a triumphant victory where Personal Agency triumphs over Abusive Control and everyone goes home to laugh and watch bad movies and eat shawarma together. I knew it wouldn’t go down like that, but I had hopes about the Daisy stuff, anyway. After all, this is a superhero show, right? And the good guys always buck up and overcome through sheer force of will, right?
Well, not here, or at least not yet. I suspect that being renewed for a fourth season well in advance allowed AoS to play this episode a lot like the end of a half-season rather than a full one, wrapping up the central conflict and one character’s story while still leaving others very much “in progress.” There’s a level of frustration here that I can’t quite shake, mostly because I’ve come to love Daisy and she’s spent each of the last three seasons being betrayed to some extent by the group she’s tried to call home—SHIELD, Afterlife, Hive—and losing a lot of people she cared about along the way. I’m tired of seeing her suffer.
Daisy needs one in the “W” column, to feel like she’s in control of her own life again, and perhaps to find a family she can build and lead rather than following and joining somebody else’s. If that’s AoS‘s ultimate end-game, then she’ll likely have her own satisfying character arc when all is said and done. But it didn’t happen here, which means we’re left once again with Daisy being “saved” (physically at least) and feeling powerless. New ability to Leap Tall Buildings In a Single Bound notwithstanding, that’s a hell of a downer ending, there.
Despite all that, I have a lot of respect for what the creative team is trying to do this week in terms of tackling complicated topics and developing their central characters (frustrating and painful as it may be). Daisy and the HiveMind developed into an imperfect but nevertheless poignant, powerful metaphor for addiction that was handled with a lot of sympathy and respect, and woven deeply into the episodes’ two major themes: “connection” and “choice.”
Throughout this finale, people try to help Daisy—to make that personal connection—but it never quite works because they’re all seeing her experience through the lenses of their own, and none of those match up. Coulson compares her loss to his (Rosalind), so he tells her none of it was her fault and cautions her against a revenge she doesn’t even want. May does the same, encouraging Daisy to “balance the scales” and give Andrew’s death meaning. Mack comes close to true empathy when he forgives her (he doesn’t actually blame her, but he knows she needs to hear it in order to eventually forgive herself), but then he ties her situation to the mind control he experienced and the connection breaks again, because they’re just not the same.
Only Lincoln, with his history of addiction, has an experience that aligns best with Daisy’s, and so he’s the one who’s able to most effectively connect with her. He’s the only one who knows the real reason she confronted Hive at the SHIELD base, and while he doesn’t condemn her for it, he doesn’t absolve her of it, either. He doesn’t pretend she can undo the damage, both to herself and to others. He simply tells her to live with it. That that’s all she can do. And when she (still reeling from trauma and withdrawals) thinks she can’t do that, he does what people do for their loved ones: he intervenes.
I have a personal uneasiness for martyr stories that’s hard to properly articulate, but I think it’s because a lot of them romanticize sacrifice as a purely altruistic act, even though it’s at least partly ego-driven, frequently denies another’s agency (“I’m going to suffer for you whether you want me to or not”), and often leaves a trail of guilt-stricken, grieving survivors in its wake. AoS rather smartly acknowledges all of this: Lincoln is doing this for Daisy, yes, but also to fulfill his own desire for purpose, and Daisy’s final conversation with him (“you can’t die for me”) is full of anger as much as sadness. It also, quietly, forwards the show’s ongoing conversation about free will: about when we can truly be said to be in control of our actions, and where the line between “helping” and “controlling” resides.
AoS’s philosophy is a rather stoic one, essentially arguing that you can’t always control what happens, only how you react and move forward from it. It’s debatable whether Lincoln defied fate or fulfilled it, but he made his own choice and acted in a way that made sense to him—a way that would keep the people he cared about safe and give his own life meaning. Was Daisy trying to do the same? Yes, but the trauma and withdrawals complicate things, putting her in a place where she isn’t fully in control of her actions. All too aware of her circumstances, Lincoln overrides her decision now so she can have the opportunity to make another one later, once she’s healthy again. It’s a delicate balance and your mileage will certainly vary, but I think AoS handled it well, all things considered.
In the end, we wrap up Season Three with few conclusions and even fewer easy answers. Given the increasing moral grayness of the MCU, both on TV and film, perhaps that’s to be expected. It also gives us all kinds of issues both personal and social to explore when the show returns in the fall. I can’t say I leave this one fully satisfied, but I definitely have plenty to think about.
And hey—the FitzSimmons ‘ship sails on, Mack and Elena live to banter another day, Joey’s Sunday dinners continue, and Coulson and May can finally share bad jokes about his RoboHand. So that’s something to cheer and draw cute fanart about, at least.
This, That, and the Other
Seriously though, mad applause for Chloe Bennett, who acted the ever-loving hell out of this finale. She’s really come a long way since those first stilted performances.
Farewell, Brett Dalton. And farewell, the Brett Dalton Gets Shot Drinking Game. You were a magnetic, versatile performer and a great excuse to post toasting gifs, respectively. You will both be missed.
The Internet pointed out to me this morning that both of Daisy’s ‘ships blew up together in a ship. That’s … kind of amazing, actually …
“I can tell by your mustache that you’re a man of importance and not to be trifled with.” Dr. Radcliffe is a cheeky, morally ambiguous gift, and I’m so glad he’s sticking around.
And speaking of Radcliffe, he’s just finished inventing an “L.M.D.,” which can only stand for one thing. Looks like Life Model Decoys have finally made it into the MCU! Let the endless death fake-outs begin!
If I’ve seemed rather silent as of late (especially compared to that four-posts-a-week juggling act I was doing for a while there), there’s a few reasons for that. Some of those are about focusing on other writing and preventing burnout, but the main reason is a lot simpler: I’m in the middle of moving.
With all my long-term blog projects wrapped up, my two-year(?!) JND anniversary upon me, and some new opportunities opening up, I’m using this time to take a breath and figure out how I want to move forward with the blog. Expect at least one weekly anime series for the summer season, and hopefully links to some TMS-exclusive posts, too. We’ll see where the wind blows us.
But all is well, so no worries! I’m just a bit of a Bungo Stray Josei right now. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for another week or so, but I’m planning to get back into a regular posting schedule after that, so keep your eyes peeled in June for some more JND goodness! In the meantime, you’re welcome to join me on Twitter for anime hottakes and cute House of Five Leaves screencaps. As you can see, my tweets are very Deep And Professional and will add Intellectual Value to your Timeline.
Enjoy the last weeks of spring, and I hope to chat with you all again regularly soon!
A while back I had a Tumblr follower ask me a knotty question about media engagement: They wanted to know where the line between “personal taste” and “hypocrisy” fell, and if it made them a hypocrite to drop one show for doing something they didn’t like, but then continue watching a different show that did something similar.
I shot off a fairly lengthy reply at the time (you can read the full question and my original reply here), but I’ve been wanting to go back, finalize it into a more formal essay, and dig a little deeper into discussing context(s), tastes, and critical engagement with fiction. And since I’m between projects, now seemed like the best time to do that.
Plenty of others have already weighed in with lots of eloquent words (such as here, here, and here), so a part of me wonders if there’s even any value in adding to the chorus. But I also think these topics—particularly when it comes to acknowledging imperfections in ourselves and others, and not just when dealing with our fav stories—are important enough that we should chat about them regularly. So here’s my own imperfect voice joining the canon.
Feel free to sound off in the comments with your own thoughts and questions, and I’ll try to keep you entertained with gifs as we go.
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“Think, think, think…”
First, just to make sure we’re all on the same page: “hypocrisy” refers to the difference between what someone says and what they do, especially when it comes to absolute moral or ethical stances. The key word here is “absolute.” For example, someone who insists that birth control is morally wrong and never acceptable and then uses a condom during sex is being a hypocrite. Someone who says they’re “not that into” sports anime and likes Haikyuu is not.
The easiest way to avoid charges of hypocrisy when enjoying fiction is to simply not take a hard line stance against any particular element, because there are almost certainly exceptions to the rule. There’s a huge difference between “I’m wary of reading/watching something that involves rape because it’s often poorly handled in fiction” and “Rape is always unacceptable in all media.” The latter allows for no exceptions, even ones where the subject is dealt with respectfully.
Now, of course, there are people who refuse to consume any fiction featuring Element X or Plot Point Y. While I generally encourage others not to have hard line stances because it limits experiences and exposure to other worldviews, I also know people are complicated and there are multiple outside factors that can come into play, and I get that and I understand it. My point here is just that, unless you truly mean “ALL” or “NEVER,” it’s a good idea not to use those words.
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Even corgis have their limits.
Beyond that, it all comes down to specifics. Fiction and our relationship with it is a vast, complicated, ever-changing ball of topic, degree, tone, personal interests and experiences, and other contextual elements that all come together to place that piece of fiction somewhere on the spectrum between “adore it” and “despise it.”
Just because two stories have some similar(ish) elements doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll both work for you. That’s like saying I have to like ALL stories with dragons in them just because I watch Game of Thrones. The dragons are part of it, sure, and they might even be a part of why I like it, but there’s more to it than that (characters, plotting, etc.), and to assume it’s all about the dragons is to vastly oversimplify my relationship with the story.
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Dragons are cool, though. I mean. That’s just science.
This is true of difficult or potentially troubling elements in media, too. Let’s go ahead and use “fanservice” as the example here, which we’ll define as “gratuitous T&A primarily used for titillation” (remember, not all nudity/sexuality counts as fanservice). Again, this is going to vary by person, but I personally don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with fanservice. It’s not my favorite thing in the world, but it’s not an automatic deal-breaker, and I tend to handle it on a case-by-case basis that has a lot to do with tone, degree, and purpose.
Is it occasional and subtle? Frequent and distracting? Is it playful and tongue-in-cheek? Voyeuristic and creepy? Is it equal-opportunity? Male-gazey? Female-gazey? Does the sexualized character have a personality, agency, and power, or are they flat objects portrayed as nothing but walking, talking boobs/abs and butts?
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“Afternoon, gents.”
There is, especially when people first begin to actively engage with and critique their media, a tendency to oversimplify, to see something like female nudity in a story and assume it’s always objectification because it so often is. But part of recognizing destructive elements or just plain ol’ lame stereotypes is also being able to recognize when those elements are being subverted or handled in a thoughtful or tasteful manner. There’s a huge gap between the way, say, Love Stage and Maria the Virgin Witch handled sexual assault, and understanding those differences allows you to point to both negative and positive depictions of difficult topics.
Context matters. Context matters. Once again, in bold, because it’s a big deal: Context really matters.
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This makes…well, a little more sense in context, anyway…
Actually, because it is such a big deal, let’s take some time to talk about context—or rather contexts, because it’s a slippery word with a lot of layers, especially when you’re dealing with fiction. So far I’ve mostly just talked about in-story context: The world, characters, and events within the work. But none of that exists in a vacuum, because someone had to create the thing and someone else has to consume the thing, so you’ve also got your out-of-story context: The creator’s personal history and culture, as well as the history and culture of the audience member.
How you, the individual, juggle those various contexts, placing precedent over one or the other, can drastically affect how you interpret the story. It’s why a play written 200 years ago can be both feminist by the standards of its time and sexist by the standards of modern society. It’s also how a character can seem empowered within the context of their story but objectified or stereotyped when taking into account real-world social norms or (more commonly nowadays) direct interviews where the creator tells us exactly what they were going for.
(As an aside: Yes, I do think there’s value in acknowledging creator intent—or at least creator context—and using it to interpret a story, but there’s also value in divorcing a story from its original context and looking at it though another cultural lens. Both are valid forms of analysis that can add meaningful commentary to the conversation. What matters is knowing how you’re approaching the story and why you’re doing it that way—and, if you’re talking about it with others, to make it clear to them so they’re on the same page and you’re not arguing about different things.)
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It starts to get even trickier once you get down to individual contexts (or, more simply, “tastes”). A story might be stale and cheesy to one person but groundbreaking and shocking to another based on the past stories they’ve consumed or the lives they’ve led. Two people can agree a show is “good” based on its narrative structure or well-conveyed themes, but one of them was totally enthralled while the other could never connect emotionally. And someone might find the fanservice in that bathhouse scene harmless and silly while someone else found it creepy or just plain annoying.
One of the awesome things about contexts is they can change, either through actively engaging with others and listening to their viewpoints, or just due to the passage of time. There are anime I love now that I had no interest in when I was younger (and vice versa) because of the experiences I’ve had between viewings. Being able to recognize your personal tastes can enrich an interpretation. It can also help you separate (to some extent) your preferences from the story itself, so that you can have a positive opinion about something even if you didn’t necessarily enjoy it, or a negative opinion about something you did enjoy.
So, yeah. That’s context. Simple, right?
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Keeping all that in mind, we’re back at our original idea: The importance of recognizing nuance when engaging with fiction. There’s fanservice in my anime! Why does that bother me in one place but not in another? To try to answer that question, we consider all kinds of contexts around that one element: how it’s handled in-story, how it relates to out-of-story experiences, and so on.
And then (because like I said, fiction is a big ol’ mass of parts), beyond the fanservice itself, we also have to consider the series as a whole. Is the fanservice a bit excessive, but the world detailed, the plot compelling, the characters sympathetic? Do those other elements make it worthwhile despite its flaws?
No story is perfect, and our engagement with them is neither a flow chart nor a checklist, so there’s usually not a hard-and-fast “rule” to explain which stories work for you and which do not. Parts and pieces come together in different ways to form different unified wholes, and the sum of those parts then fall somewhere on that Adore-to-Despise Spectrum I mentioned earlier.
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Above: The Adore-to-Despise Binary. Subtle but important difference.
Of course, all that having been said, liking something with problems doesn’t mean we should ignore or excuse those problems. Engaging with media also means acknowledging and understanding flaws and failings and thinking about how something could have been better handled. Similarly, it’s worthwhile to look at a story element that would normally bother us but this one time didn’t, and try to figure out why that might be. Is it a matter of tone? Perspective? Subject? At the risk of sounding like a broken record: Context really freaking matters, y’all.
On the flip side, if you consider all that stuff and decide that it actually is a flawed depiction—a gaping plot hole, a flat characterization, a troubling message, or whatever else—can you be honest in saying “Yeah, I can see how this is or could be an issue, but it didn’t bother me”? It’s okay to be bothered by something, and it’s okay to not be bothered by something, as long as you’re willing to listen respectfully to other viewpoints and acknowledge valid critiques and concerns.
Actually, a quick word on validity, because I’ve seen this derail so many potentially productive conversations: Feelings can be valid even if the criticism isn’t. Criticism that cherry-picks or outright ignores textual evidence is probably not good criticism, but that doesn’t invalidate the feelings behind it. If you disagree and want to talk about it, then use the story as your center of debate. But telling them they’re wrong for feeling that way is…well, kind of shitty, for starters, but also about the least useful discourse for everyone involved.
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“YOUR FAV IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD.”
When talking about media (whether as a casual audience member, a hardcore fan, or a Serious Critic With a Blog And Everything), sometimes it’s easy to get entrenched in our own opinions, and passionate discussions can quickly spiral into salty or downright abusive online screamin’ parties that help exactly no one. Knee-jerk defensiveness is a natural response, but that doesn’t make it the best one.
Always remember that there is another human person at the end of that message. They, like you, have the right to be treated with respect (or, at the very least, the right to not bombarded with insults or threats of violence). Taking a minute to be sympathetic to another’s context, listen to genuine criticism, ask our own questions, and consider the nuance surrounding a story element can add depth to the conversation and help us better engage with our media, both individually and as a culture or fandom or what have you.
Understanding why we like something makes us more contemplative; understanding why someone else likes something makes us more considerate; and understanding how something can work in one situation but not in another can show us how to approach other topics (or problems) in creative, constructive ways. And, hopefully, we can bring those approaches to the world outside of fiction, making us more thoughtful, considerate, and constructive in our real-world interactions, too.
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Or, TL;DR: Context matters, and often story elements that seem similar are actually pretty different. But even if they are more-or-less the same, it’s okay to have inconsistent opinions. Just remember to be receptive to opposing viewpoints and willing to think critically about how or why one story works for you even if another one doesn’t.
The world isn’t black and white, and neither are we, and neither is our fiction. Recognizing those shades of gray (and how they might be shaded differently for different people) is what helps us grow as individuals. It also makes this whole media-discussion thing a whole lot more interesting.
My big ol’ nerd umbrella expands to cover podcasts with my review of the latest Night Vale live show.
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I’m fairly new to the town of Night Vale (feel free to greet me with a friendly “Interloperrrr!” if you’d like). Utena Watch Party cohort and online buddy Vrai convinced me to give the show a try last August, whereupon I fell hard for its likably flawed protagonist, diverse cast, offbeat humor, and casual weirdness, blazing through the entire series in a little under two months. Since then, I’ve become a Weird Scout, picked up some sweet WTNV merch, tossed around wild theories with friends, and attended a book signing event. (But I definitely didn’t go as one part of a genderswapped Cecil/Kevin duo for Halloween or design WTNV/Utena crossover art or create a Spotify playlist in loosely chronological order so I could relive the stories of Night Vale in song form—no no, certainly not. That would be ridiculous.)
Point is, I have a lot of love for this series, so I was thrilled to finally see my first live show when “Ghost Stories” floated through Chicago in April. And with the crew gearing up for the second part of their U.S. tour in July, now seemed like a good time to let others know about it, too.
Never judge a princess (or anyone else, for that matter) by their gown.
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They say girls turn pretty when they fall in love. But if they never fall in love, will they stay gross forever? Amars may not love flesh-and-blood real men, but they are in love with The Three Kingdoms and trains and dolls. What about them?
Mom, why do girls have to be pretty? Because I’d rather not. I’d rather not become pretty at all. Really.
—Kurashita Tsukimi, Princess Jellyfish Vol. 1
I finally had a chance to read the Vol. 1 Omnibus (Chapters 1-12) of Kodansha’s Princess Jellyfish (Kuragehime) manga, the story of a bunch of geek gals living together in Tokyo and the cross-dressing rich boy who befriends them. With its upbeat tone, cast of lovably awkward turtles, and celebration of female nerd counterculture, it’s easy to see why the series has charmed so many people.
Yet Princess Jellyfish isn’t all fluff and lightness: It isn’t afraid to touch on more serious topics (including, CW: the sexual assault of one of its male characters), and frequently acknowledges the real-world prejudices many of the characters face because they don’t conform to societal norms. It also isn’t afraid to show how those prejudices can be held by anyone, even those who face prejudice themselves.
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Caution: Here There BeSpoilersfor the Kodansha Omnibus Volume One (Vol. 1-2 of the original Japanese release). Please read responsibly.
The ladies of Amars (or “The Sisterhood,” depending on whether you’re reading the paperback or the CR Manga translation) are a delightfully diverse group of lady-nerds, with passions that vary from Chinese classic lit to Japanese dolls to the titular jellyfish. They’re depicted as by-and-large happy people, with fulfilling hobbies and friendships, a far cry from the “sad lonely nerd” so common in media.
Yet simply by living independently, unfashionably, and devoted to unconventional “true loves,” they’re committing a kind of rebellion, rejecting mainstream interests as well as traditional ideals of femininity (particularly in Japan, where women are still largely expected to become housewives and mothers) and are subject to scorn and stares. To combat this, they’ve carved out a refuge for themselves—the Amars House—where they can pursue their passions free from judgment.
Unfortunately, in the (understandable) process of protecting themselves from unfair societal standards, they’ve also walled themselves off from other people, limiting their worldviews and giving them their own set of biases. The Amars ladies struggle with self-confidence, which leads to a defensive “Us Versus Them” mentality that the Sisterhood sometimes uses to raise themselves at the expense of tearing down others—a mentality that Kuranosuke shines a light on when he saunters into their lives.
Image may be NSFW. Clik here to view.The Sisterhood initially fall into the trap of doing to Kuranosuke what others so often do to them: Judging him by his “Stylish” appearance and rejecting him on sight. They eventually warm up to him thanks to his generosity, confidence, and overall acceptance of their lifestyles, and in so doing he challenges their ideas about so-called Stylish people. Although, even then, Tsukimi still has to keep his gender identity a secret because Amars has such a hard-line stance against men.
Kuranosuke serves as one of those rare, good examples of using cross-dressing as a way to challenge gender norms rather than reinforcing them, as the Sisterhood both accepts Kuranosuke and bans prospective tenants based on their (faulty) ideas about what it means to be a “woman” or a “man”—in essence, using the same cultural norms that have deemed them “rotten women (fujoshi)” to deem someone else fit or unfit for the Amars House. It’s all too easy to fall back on stereotyping and essentialism, rejecting discriminatory societal standards for oneself while insisting upon them for someone else (and thereby maintaining the status quo that’s hurting both groups). The Sisterhood are as susceptible to this habit as anyone.
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Which isn’t to say Kuranosuke is a shining beacon of acceptance either, mind you. He’s drawn to Tsukimi and the Sisterhood because of their unique personalities and interests, but he also sees them as a “challenge” to his makeover skills, convinced every girl “wants to be pretty, deep down.” He mocks other characters for being virgins, rejects the title “transvestite” (or okama) because he’s “normal” (implying that being a transvestite is abnormal), and starts to view his previous, Stylish female friends as shallow and boring.
And that’s the thing: Everyone in Princess Jellyfish has these blind spots. Many have their roots in personal experience/trauma, some come from an ignorance that has no ill will behind it, while others are mean-spirited and actively destructive (please direct your attention to Inari Shouko, the woman who thinks it’s okay to drug, assault, and blackmail a man); but all contribute to the “othering” of different groups and the sharp social divisions that form the central conflict of the series.
No onein Princess Jellyfish is perfect. Everyone is both a giver and receiver of snap judgments and assumptions based on appearances. That’s what makes it such a fascinating and effective look at internalized prejudices and how cultural norms shape everyone’s ideas about each other.
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Interestingly, where some series might reject society’s focus on appearances outright, going for an idealistic “eventually everyone will learn to love you for who you are, no matter what you look like” approach, Princess Jellyfish takes a more realistic/cynical stance (at least so far), acknowledging that sometimes, unfortunately, appearances do make a difference. With Amars in jeopardy and the Sisterhood struggling to fight back due to social anxiety and personal insecurity, Kuranosuke encourages them to “don the armor” of mainstream professional clothing and hairstyles so they’ll be taken seriously.
He makes it clear this is about public costumes and masks rather than changing one’s personality, which is vital. That the makeovers are ultimately about giving the Sisterhood confidence to go out and act naturally in public spaces, opening themselves up to new experiences, is vital, too. It’s a scene that could have easily fallen apart and is surprisingly empowering instead. Yet there’s still a question here about whether you can truly counter prejudice by taking on the guise of those who look down on you, and I’ll be curious to see if (or maybe how) Princess Jellyfish handles this tension in coming volumes.
Certainly the battle between outward appearance and inner truth is going to be an ongoing struggle, given how many of the characters are leading “double lives,” accidentally or otherwise. Whether it’s the Sisterhood thinking Kuranosuke is a Stylish Woman, Shu thinking Tsukimi is both a Demure Ladyand a Creepy Otaku, Tsukimi thinking Shu is a Cool Character, or the entire Japanese public not knowing their prime minister is a Theatrical Goofball, there’re enough misconceptions to fill a Shakespearean comedy at this point. Reveals are bound to happen eventually. How the series tackles them will tell us a lot about its ongoing goals.
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I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Princess Jellyfish is, like its characters, very much an imperfect work as well. The series wants to celebrate women who don’t conform to social standards of love and beauty, but (like the Sisterhood themselves) it sometimes does this at the expense of women who do choose to live within those standards. There are no likable Stylish or married women in Princess Jellyfish so far; only voices on a phone whom Kuranosuke deems “boring” and Inari The Molester.
As a result, despite the series’ attempts (and many successes!) at challenging social norms and preconceptions, the “Us Versus Them” mentality implicitly remains, dividing, if not society as a whole (thanks to Kuranosuke), then women into Geeky Good and Stylish Evil. Given the way both sides treat sex and romance, this is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a Madonna/Whore binary. It’s a concerning element, to be sure, along with the cast’s casual insensitivity towards LGBT people, although it’s hard to say yet if these are flaws with the story itself or with the individual characters. Either way, I do hope Princess Jellyfish works to address these issues as it goes.
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Yet in a roundabout, accidental sort of way, even the manga’s own blind spots work to forward its central conversation about how everyone holds unwarranted biases, regardless of background or lifestyle, and how important it is to recognize and address that. As the characters’ prejudices are challenged through their interactions with each other, it throws a light on the story’s prejudices, and that ripples out to the individual reader as well. Where are my blind spots? What groups do I unfairly mock or snub my nose at?
If this past week has left me with anything (other than a crippling grief slowly turning into fury), it’s how easily latent prejudices can spiral into violent hate, and how quickly Awful Human Trumpster Fires will work to use the pain of one marginalized group to demonize and attack another. (That the attempts largely failed speaks to the staggering levels of compassion and strength coming from so much of the queer community, and gives me fistfuls of hope in the face of so much sadness.) It’s human nature to make snap judgments and harbor biases, even tiny ones, even seemingly harmless ones, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight to overcome those instincts. In a lighter but still important way, Princess Jellyfish reminds us of this.
Between bouts of giggles at its goofy geekery, flashes of fierce protectiveness over these flawed, adorkable characters, and occasional squees at the budding romantic subplot, Princess Jellyfish‘s first volume encouraged me to consider the world beyond the page, and how I can work to become a more open-minded, accepting person myself. Warts and all, that’s an encouraging place for a series to be after just 12 chapters. I’m looking forward to seeing how its characters and conversations develop in the coming volumes.
Screenshots taken from the official Crunchyroll Manga translation. Quotes taken from the official Kodansha paperback translation. There may be some variations between the two.
I’m trying something new this time around: A sequence of li’l essays about a single show viewed through different lenses. This is Part 1 (of ??) in a series on Tanaka-kun. And what easier, more accessible topic to start us off with than art, atmosphere, and historical/cultural influences? (She said, weeping onto her keyboard.)
As the above screenshot playfully notes, Tanaka-kun (in addition to being a cute, clever, sleepy YA comedy) has a cheerful relationship with Zen Buddhism and the Taoist philosophy that influenced Zen. While I wouldn’t say the show is overtly religious, I do think there’s a Zen spirit that inhabits its humor, art design, stories, and themes, and I wanted to spend some time chatting about those connections.
Vague references to events from Episodes 1-6 below the jump.
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But first! A hilariously brief and oversimplified explanation of Zen:
So! Buddhism arose in India as a path to escape the endless cycle of reincarnation (and the inevitable sorrow that comes with impermanent existence). It eventually migrated to China, where it merged with Confucian ritual & order and Taoist spontaneity & simplicity, splintering into lots of sects. One of these was Chan (Zen in Japanese), which rejected much of the complex rituals in favor of simple seated meditation (zazen; sometimes called “just sitting”), sincere devotion, and being fully present and aware of the “suchness” (tathatha) of each moment. Some people refer to Zen as “if Buddhism and Taoism had a baby,” which is reductive but has a lot of truth in it (in theory if not always in practice).
Zen came to Japan and morphed again, picking up bits of Shinto and Japanese aestheticism (and plenty of new rituals and rules along the way). Importantly, Zen leaders preached that, because of the fundamental non-duality of existence, there was no actual divide between the sacred and the secular, meaning anyone could achieve enlightenment by existing fully within the Here And Now as they went about their daily lives. You didn’t have to be ordained to realize buddha-nature anymore.
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So how does this relate to Tanaka-kun? For starters, with Tanaka himself, whose character reads like both a parody and a love letter to the Devoted Layperson—except, instead of Enlightenment, he is seeking Perfect Listlessness. Tanaka turns listlessness into a discipline, complete with his own rituals and philosophical musings, and takes “just sitting” to an absurd level as he moves ever closer to the highest realm of laziness.
And yet, when Tanaka isn’t getting so caught up in the ritual that he loses sight of the desired result (like refusing to unzip his jersey before taking it off, causing more work for himself), there is a kind of simple, spontaneous serenity and wisdom about him. By sitting and observing, by just quietly being present, he’s able to understand those around him, providing insights into their own inner natures, their strengths and limitations. Quietly, almost unnoticeably, he helps to resolve conflicts both external (Miyano and Echizen) and internal (Shiraishi) with a few perceptive words. With Ta(o)naka, “Nothing is done, yet nothing is left undone.”
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Tanaka is still only human, and as prone to getting tangled in his own stubbornness or insecurities as the other characters. His attempts to achieve Perfect Listlessness can also sometimes be in direct opposition to Zen tenets (although given the somewhat paradoxical nature of Buddhism, where you need to stop grasping in order to attain, maybe he’s closer to Nirvana than any of us). Fortunately, when Tanaka stumbles, the series itself is there to pick up the slack, using its art and themes to fill the show with a modern Zen aesthetic.
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Studies on Zen Buddhist architecture describe it as a combination of (1) Confucian organization and symmetry, (2) Taoist simple clarity through emptiness (where the “reality of the room” is found in “the vacant space enclosed by the roof and wall themselves”), and (3) a desire for “harmony with nature.” Or, as Tofugu puts it when describing Zen rock gardens: “Even though the trees and patterns often stand out a lot more, that blankness, that stillness, is just as crucial.” All of which is intended to clear your mind, calm your spirit, and keep you constantly aware of the world beyond the (delusion of the) self.
Tanaka’s world and especially his (super-nice) high school embody many of these general architectural principles: Simple designs, clean lines, organization and symmetry softened by curves, empty, open spaces, and the almost constant presence of natural elements (from the color scheme itself to the rows of trees to all that lovely natural lighting). Tanaka’s school is actually based on a real high school in Hiroshima, but the anime design team made it a point to use a lot of wood and stone (rather than metal and plaster) in their version, giving it (and, by extension, the series as a whole) a much warmer feel.
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The art and storyboarding has some of this same attention to simplicity and naturalism, particularly in the show’s most relaxed “Tanaka and Ohta just hanging out” moments. Backgrounds vanish, offering us an uncluttered screen so we can focus on the here-and-now interactions; or our characters stand before a backdrop of nature, blending in with the world around them. Both the separation and the unity are integral; two sides of the same coin; non-duality at work. And let’s not forget the show’s general laid-back, accepting attitude, or the way Tanaka does indeed appear to be trying (and failing) to copy sutras during the episode previews.
Again, I don’t think Tanaka-kun is intended to be a religious work, but I do think it’s aware of the kind of atmosphere it wants to create and draws on Zen and Taoist philosophy and aesthetics to accomplish that: A focus on everyday life; an appreciation for nature and the unique impermanence of each moment; an offbeat sense of humor (yep, Zen and Taoist writings can be pretty funny, too); an abiding affection for the flawed, frantic people who live within its world; and a constant, gentle reminder of the importance of clearly seeing the “Inner Nature” of things.
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Almost every conflict in Tanaka-kun stems from somebody ignoring that Inner Nature—when characters try to force square pegs into round holes, getting so caught up in how they want things to be that they can’t see them as they are. Tanaka’s Battle with the Brolly is a brilliant little example of this, as he refuses to use a simple tool for its designed purpose and ends up causing far more problems than if he’d just used the umbrella as an umbrella in the first place. Ohta (the most clear-headed of the cast) even sympathizes with the poor umbrella, who’s not getting to do what it’s made to do.
This tension between delusion and truth comes up constantly in the other characters’ conflicts as well, and almost always leads to (light, silly) complications, such as tiny, hard-working Miyano’s fight to be “mature” and listless. It’s not that Miyano shouldn’t be allowed to change if she wants to, but that she rejects qualities about herself and tries to attach new ones as if it were as easy as changing hats. Self-change is a constant, steady process that requires acknowledging one’s current nature and then, rather than beating it with a hammer, gradually bending it into the desired shape.
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Of course, while the show’s interest in Inner Nature and Change may have roots in the philosophies and religions that have long been a part of Japanese culture, it’s also related to something a bit more grounded and immediate than that: High school and adolescence. But that’s an essay for another day.
I pulled from a ton of sources from this one, including original texts (like the Tao Te Ching), and historical/theological studies (including a really neat book called Women of the Way about female Buddhist practitioners). Some of them I read so long ago that I can’t properly cite them here, but Benjamin Hoff’s The Tao of Pooh (c.1982) and Peter Hershock’s Public Zen, Personal Zen (c.2014) served as comprehensive refresher courses, so they deserve special mention.
On that note, I’ve spent a lot of time studying (and a little time practicing) this, but I’m still plenty prone to error. If I swung and missed wide, feel free to let me know and I’ll work to correct my mistakes and come to a better understanding of the material.
Sailor Moon Crystal premiered to a lot of excitement, but the hype train soon ground to an unceremonious halt thanks to the show’s poor production values, breakneck pacing, terrible questionable changes to the source material, and general lack of energy. Some fans hung on. Many jumped off. With no real nostalgic attachment to the franchise and a ’90s anime I was enjoying much more, I wound up in the second group.
Then the Season 3 (“Death Busters Arc”) announcements rolled out: the show was moving from a bimonthly online (ONA) schedule to a weekly TV one, getting both a new series director (Chiaki Kon) and character designer (Akira Takahashi), and giving itself a Moon Prism Makeover. The hype train let out a low, tentative whistle. Curious but not all that optimistic, I gave the season premiere a try, and was shocked to discover it was actually…fun? Against all odds, Kon and her staff have breathed life into an adaptation that was dead in the water, thanks to a few simple changes that made a huge difference.
Part 2 (of ??) in my Tanaka-kun is Always Listless mini-essay series! This time I thought we’d veer away from specific cultural influences and talk about what the show does in terms of addressing adolescent concerns. ‘Cause what would this blog be without some good old-fashioned coming-of-age narrative chatter?
Given our high school setting, it’s not surprising that Tanaka-kun‘s castspends a lot of time dealing with the bumpy transition from child- to adulthood. Sometimes this is about “grown-up” concerns like marriage or personal independence, but usually it’s more general than that, as characters struggle to find a balance between who they were/are, who the world thinks they should be, and who they want to be. In other words, it’s all about changes.
Detailed discussion of Episodes 2 & 4 and general references from the rest of the series below the jump.
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Tanaka deals with this conflict in is own way, a little, as he knows he’s supposed to “work hard” (ganbatte!), but it’s so completely against his nature that he can never muster up the energy to do it. Sometimes this sends him into spirals of self-loathing (particularly when he meets someone who does work hard, like Shiraishi), but his friends are always quick to pull him out, assuring him that his listlessness is part of what draws people to him and grants him unique insight and wisdom (which I talked about last time).
Tanaka-kun in general (and Ohta in particular) is extremely supportive of its high school cast, finding positives in nearly all of their personalities (even as it affectionately teases them for their quirks and weaknesses). It encourages people (especially teens) to accept and even love the parts of themselves that they–or, more accurately, the world around them–might consider flawed, and to find ways to turn those perceived weaknesses into strengths.
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But it’s more than that, and much smarter than that as well. Because Tanaka-kun also understands that sometimes people want to change, and that’s okay, too–as long as they’re not hurting themselves or others in the process, anyway.
Using its offbeat humor and low-key conflicts, the series strikes a delicate, difficult balance between “encouraging stasis” and “forcing change,” instead offering a patient middle road for its characters to take. While we see this to some extent with the entire cast (even the self-assured Ohta, who has arguably found that road and walks it every day), it’s especially noticeable in our two hardest of workers: Miyano and Shiraishi.
Miyano flies into the second episode like a speeding bullet, insisting that Tanaka make her his apprentice. Hyperactive and undersized, she wants to move away from her “childish” image and into the world of adults, and she equates listlessness with cool maturity. She initially does this because she thinks it’ll appeal to Echizen, but eventually she stays on as Tanaka’s “student” because she really does want to become more mature (however flawed her idea of adulthood might be).
While the series takes care to assure Miyano that her hardworking nature and innate cuteness are perfectly fine, even admirable, it also doesn’t demand that she stop trying to be more “adult-like,” either. If that’s what she wants, then that’s okay, too. What Tanaka-kun does exceptionally well with her story, though, is point out the importance of understanding limitations, accepting them–and then, instead of forcing the impossible or giving up altogether, finding a new way forward.
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No, Miyano can’t grow 10 centimeters in a few days, and there aren’t any kimono she likes in her size (social norms cause a lot of subtle but pervasive problems for these kids, you’ll notice). But, with the help of a supportive friend, she can make her own kimono, and attend the summer festival looking the way she wants to look. Hopefully she’ll realize she can approach adulthood in the same way, taking nuggets of listless wisdom from her “master” while still remaining true to herself.
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While Miyano’s conflicts are fairly lighthearted and often played for giggles, Shiraishi’s is probably the most serious and earnest story line in the show, and also one of the more complex. She was lonely and awkward in junior high and doesn’t want to be anymore, so she completely changes her appearance and mannerisms when she enters high school. It’s implied that she doesn’t change her entire personality (she’s still serious, sincere, and kindhearted), which is good, but just finds a way to express that personality among others so she can make friends and stand out at school.
It works, but in exchange for a different kind of unhappiness: The contacts hurt her eyes, she feels weird in a short skirt, and she finds the “idol-like hairstyle” embarrassing. And while the new look has helped her become more confident in public, she’s still personally insecure and constantly worries about how the other students would react if they found out about “old-model me.” As Tanaka notes, it is “exhausting to be so sparkly all the time,” and Shiraishi is nearing burnout already.
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Even so, Shiraishi makes it clear that this is the life she wants for herself, and both the other characters and the series itself respect that choice. Granted, there’s a question here (and one I definitely asked of myself in both high school and college) of how much she personally wants this and how much it’s society telling her she wants this, but that’s something she’ll have to figure out for herself over time. It’s not Tanaka or Ohta’s place to tell her who she should be; only to support her wishes and help her if she needs it. And that’s exactly what they do.
But they also provide her with something equally important: People she can relax and be “a dweeb” around. Most of us wear some form of public mask, and it does get tiring, so it really helps if we have close friends or family we can drop that mask around. Tanaka also reminds Shiraishi that being imperfect is okay–even vital, since it’s our flaws that make us human–and that change isn’t something we can make happen over night. It takes time and patience.
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Having friends who accept her also gives Shiraishi the confidence to balance her old and new selves in a healthier manner, as she gets rid of those painful contact lenses and goes back to glasses (albeit a more stylish pair). Like Miyano, Shiraishi comes to understand that some things will “never fit me right,” and it’s better to listen to yourself, accept those limits, and work around them than hurt yourself by trying to fit into a box that’s not the right size for you–or worse, a box you’ve chosen for someone else’s sake rather than your own.
The Tanaka-kun manga is still ongoing, so a part of me hopes that Shiraishi will become more secure about herself as the series progresses. Maybe she’ll open up willingly to Miyano or her other girl friends at some point, choosing to “let her hair down up” in front of them rather than having it happen by accident. But that kind of trust and confidence can’t be rushed. And, as she later decides, it’s okay to take her time and ease into changes–both within herself and her relationships with others.
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Tanaka-kun sees high school and adolescence as a tangled ball of seemingly opposing forces, as the idea of adulthood crashes against the reality of it, desires bang into limitations, and an urge for rapid change keeps bumping into the necessity for patience. Yet through it all the series exudes an atmosphere of relaxed laughter, as if to tell its audience: Don’t panic. Take a breath. You can accept the person you are and work toward becoming the person you want to be. Maybe by finding that balance in our own lives, we can approach change with a relaxed smile of our own.
And speaking of tangled balls of contrast, I haven’t even mentioned Echizen’s struggles with public image and forced change… But that’s a fight with gender expectations as much as it is adolescence, and that is very much an essay for another day.
Spring might have been lacking the standout masterpiece and shoujo gem that Winter had (Shouwa Genroku and Snow White, respectively), but it more than made up for it in sheer quantity, offering up a variety of lively, stylish, and just downright fun series. In that respect, this season feels a little like last summer: I’m not sure how many of these shows are gonna make my 2016 Top 10 list, but I enjoyed watching just about all of them.
In other news, I think this is the last time you’ll see my Totally Arbitrary Rankings used in a season retrospective. More and more I’m realizing I don’t love the ranking system–it forces me to list shows one after the other even if I think multiple shows may have all been equally worthwhile for very different reasons. It’s reductive and misleading but, more to the point, not that fun. So enjoy the numbers for today, bid them a fond (or not) farewell, and look forward to a new format from here on out.
For now, though…
The Rankings
Unless otherwise noted, you can find out where these shows are streaming by clicking here and searching for the English title.
1. Tanaka-kun is Always Listless (Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge)
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Episode Count: 12 In a sentence: Perpetually sleepy Tanaka, his best friend Ohta, and their classmates navigate the day-to-day absurdities of high school in this offbeat YA comedy. Content Warning: One of the characters has a slightly creepy crush on her brother; possible queerbaiting
I love this show. I’ll have to give it some time to age, but there’s a good chance it’ll end up as one of my Top 5 all-time favorite anime comedies. It’s tone is so confidently, completely its own, using its deadpan protagonist and pointed silences to build humor like a snowball rolling down a hill, quietly layering joke upon joke, rarely calling attention to any of them, until suddenly I find myself caught up in a steady stream of giggles.
The central cast of high schoolers are all tremendously likable, with relationships that refuse to conform to your typical anime friendships, and the show’s general acceptance of others and warm, quiet wisdom about adolescence helps put some real meat on those funny bones. While it has some potential issues with queerbaiting (it’s adapted from an ongoing manga, so it’s hard to say for sure) and sometimes stumbles with its gender commentary, overall Tanaka-kun was a start-to-finish delight, exactly my brand of kindhearted silliness. Here’s hoping the manga gets a U.S. release soon.
By the by, I’m working on some Tanaka-kun mini-essays right now. Currently I have this one and this one, but you can check back later for more, too.
Grade: A-
2. Concrete Revolutio: The Last Song
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Season Episode Count: 12 Series Episode Count: 24 In a Sentence: In a world packed with magical girls, aliens, giant monsters, and other super-powered forces, one organization works to watch over the watchmen. Content Warning: Violence (against adults/kids); mild nudity/fanservice
ConRevo probably deserves that #1 spot for sheer ambition if nothing else, but its inability to get me to connect with its central cast (and its disappointingly flat female co-star) once again knocks it down to an admiring but emotionally distant second place. The show attempts to tackle a generation of Japanese history as well as the major themes surrounding superheroes–justice, freedom, peace–in a brief 24 episodes. Impressively, it often succeeds, and even when it doesn’t it leaves its audience with something to chew on.
The series uses superhumans as a kind of umbrella metaphor for all manner of topics, be it social marginalization, environmental destruction, western modernization, or global weaponization. Sometimes this catch-all tactic works and sometimes it muddies the overall intent, but in general it leads to thoughtful discussions that allow for shades of gray while still fighting for the show’s own vision of morality/justice. It’s dense enough that I’ll need to watch it again before I can settle on a proper interpretation–which, character issues aside, is usually a good sign that a show has a lot going for it.
Series Grade: B+
3. My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia)
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Episode Count: 12 (Season 2 confirmed, but no release date yet) In a sentence: Deku is a regular human in a world where almost everyone has developed some kind of supernatural power (called “quirks”), but he’s still determined to become a Hero–and with a little help and support from an unlikely source, he just might manage it. Content Warning: Violence (against adults/teens); mild fanservice (and an annoying kid who calls attention to it)
My Hero Academia sometimes suffers from the drawn-out storytelling and rationed animation common in long-running shounen adaptations, as well as the occasional bits of obligatory (albeit tongue-in-cheek) fanservice. And now that the negatives are out of the way–MHA is so great, you guys! It draws on a combination of shounen manga and western superhero traditions to create an earnest, entertaining, subtly sophisticated, and fiercely optimistic tale of underdogs, entitlement, the importance of having someone who believes in you, and how anyone who chooses to do good is already a hero.
The characters are (mostly) wonderful, with personalities built atop familiar archetypes that avoid lazy stereotyping. It’s funny in its lighter moments, dynamically animated when it matters, and uses its cast’s relationships to keep you invested during the more serious arcs. Deku is the kind of protagonist you want to root for and protect all at once, and his mentor is the supportive father-figure you wish more shounen MCs had. I always looked forward to new episodes and am eager to find out what happens next. There’s a Season 2 on the way–but my library has copies of the manga, and I may not be able to wait that long…
Season Grade: B+
4. flying witch
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Episode Count: 12 In a sentence: A down-to-earth, fantastical slice-of-life about a witch who goes to live in a small town with her cousins while she attends high school.
You shouldn’t try to marathon flying witch. It’s the anime equivalent of a lazy Saturday afternoon: utterly pleasant, slightly sleepy, and somehow both magical and mundane all at once. It fits squarely in the iyashikei (healing/soothing) genre without veering into the cloyingly sweet or infantile (as many shows like it tend to do), and might be the best-executed series of the season in terms of what it’s trying to do (make you feel calm and happy) and how well it accomplishes it.
Whether they’re planting mandrakes, baking shape-shifting sweets, or going sky whale-watching, our cast of friendly, flawed, independent witches and their human (and otherworldly) friends navigate their day-to-day lives in a way that makes magic seem like a natural part of the world, which in turn suggests that the world is full of its own kind of magic. If flying witch is about anything (besides relaxing its audience), maybe it’s that: To remind us to see the world and all its strangeness with fresh eyes, and to enjoy the quiet magic present in our own lives.
Series Grade: B+
5. The Lost Village (Mayoiga)
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Episode Count: 12 In a sentence: A busload of people looking for a “new start” take a trip into the mountains to a(n urban) legendary hidden village… because what could possibly go wrong with that plan? Content Warning: Violence (against adults/kids); depictions of trauma and child abuse
Set up to look like a horror series, The Lost Village gleefully refuses to actually be a horror series, using intentional anticlimax, deliberately poor shot selection, and matter-of-fact absurdity to undercut itself at every turn. Characters are one-note parodies, conversations derail into pointless arguments, and almost every potentially dramatic moment is either interlaced with or swiftly followed by something so silly it stomps all the tension out of the scene, more likely to elicit laughs than gasps.
Which isn’t to say Lost Village is a nonsensical or vapid mess. It contains a central, recurring theme about trauma and awareness (of oneself and others), a coherent narrative, and complete character arcs. It’s just that it waggles its eyebrows at you at (almost) every turn, daring you to take any of it seriously. And that’s because Lost Village isn’t horror: It’s a dark comedy with a point, and one that never lets its cast in on the joke. Whether that kind of straight-faced, sideways, “intentionally bad” (unintentionally good?) humor will work for you is totally up in the air. Me, though? I thought it was kind of brilliant.
Season Grade: Art is subjective and grades are a farce. The concept of quality is a bedtime story we tell ourselves to give our opinions meaning. So, B+, I guess?
6. Bungo Stray Dogs
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Episode Count: 12 (Part 2 airs in the fall)
In a sentence: An organization of people with supernatural powers (all named after Japanese literary figures) investigates and keeps the paranormal peace. Content Warning: Violence (against adults/kids); mild fanservice; implied incest; gallows humor (e.g., a running joke about one of the characters wanting to commit suicide)
I’ve always been pretty adamant that anime is a medium, not a genre, and it can tell the same wide variety of stories that any other medium can. But if you wanna know what drew me to anime in the first place, it’s because it’s one of the few mediums where you can find stories that look like Bungo Stray Dogs: A premise that sounds like fanfic (“famous authors but as pretty boys and girls WITH SUPERPOWERS!”); a messy but sincere, character-driven story and fantastical world that spool out slowly before you; a cast of endearingly messed-up goofballs; and an even balance of stylized action, (melo)drama, and, of course, broad humor and silly faces.
Exaggerated, big-hearted, energetic–Bungo is all of these things, along with some well-trod themes about found families and redemption, and maybe it isn’t much more than that. But (like with most Igarashi-helmed projects), it builds on itself well, so that I’m now genuinely invested in the characters and story and wanting to hear more. Plus its growing cast of literary superhumans makes this bookworm blogger downright giddy. Maybe Bungo is little more than its opening theme’s title (“Trash Candy”). But I sure am happy I get to watch more of it.
Season Grade: B
7. Kiznaiver
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Episode Count: 12 In a sentence: Seven students are kidnapped and forced to take part in an experiment that enables them to experience and share one another’s pain. Content Warning: Violence (against adults/kids); trauma/abuse; Tragic Lesbians™
It seems like every season there’s a show whose existence I staunchly defend even if I have a ton of issues with it. And lo, Kiznaiver. It might be the best show of the season in terms of using its art to create atmosphere, and it has noble intentions and ambitious goals, trying to tell a story about what it means to form emotional ties with others. (The title is a play on kizu, meaning “wound,” and kizuna, meaning “bond,” a connection that forms the thematic backbone of the series.) In many ways I think its central story is a success, and at times it can be incredibly affecting and visceral in its depiction of love, grief, and healing.
…But then it crams in a poorly developed and totally unnecessary love pentagon. Or it [spoilers] inserts a Tragic Lesbian Backstory that might have actually worked if it hadn’t led to Tragic Girl Finding Herself A Man (edit: and yes, bisexual people do exist, but there’s too long a history of anime and manga treating girl/girl high school romances as a “phase” for me to see it as such). [/end spoilers] Or it loses sight of some of its larger questions and criticisms in favor of lengthy exposition, out-of-place humor, or repetitive dramatics. So is Kiznaiver worth it for the highs even if it comes with the lows? Well, I’m glad I watched it, and I’m excited to see more work from the show’s staff. But if those cons sound like deal-breakers for you, then it might be best to give this one a pass.
Series Grade: B-
8. Sailor Moon Crystal: Season III
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Season Episode Count: 13 Series Episode Count: 39 In a Sentence: Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight… Content Warning: Magical violence; mild nudity
I’ll let my standalone post about how Sailor Moon Crystal won me back do most of the talking. Suffice to say the show still has its weak spots (rapid pacing, stilted animation, flat antagonists) but has finally recaptured what gives Sailor Moon its charm. A good sense of humor, affection for the characters, occasionally gorgeous cinematography, and (most importantly) a real love of the source material has revived this uneven but fun adaptation. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to seeing more.
Season Grade: B-
9. Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
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Streaming on: Amazon Prime Episode Count: 12 In a sentence: When a horde of zombies (called kabane) attack their walled city, Ikoma and his band of ragtag survivors must take to the rails in order to survive. Content Warning: Violence (against adults/kids); mild fanservice
All Kabaneri had to do was be a fun, action-packed show about a likable, makeshift community banding together to fight zombies on a train. And for about 7 episodes it was exactly that. And it was great! Then it decided to cut back on its thrilling zombie battles in favor of rushed, poorly explained political intrigue and family drama involving a cartoonishly extreme antagonist, cheap deaths, a lot of abducted ladies, and arbitrary machismo. The last few episodes basically discarded everything that made the main characters interesting, pigeonholing them into stereotypical roles and actions for the sake of a climax that never felt earned.
There’s some wildly entertaining stuff in the first half, which is why it has as high a grade as it does. But it really derailed (ba-dum tish) in the back end, which is why it’s also the most disappointing show for the season for me.
Series Grade: C-
Shorts
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Space Patrol Luluco
When it wasn’t self-indulgently referencing other Studio Trigger shows, Luluco was a vibrant, wild, and sometimes brutally honest portrayal of adolescence and first loves. From awkwardly and unintentionally “transforming” in front of your classmates to having your crush be both kinda shallow and so important it feels like a matter of life and death, Luluco told its central story with sympathy, wit, and a ton of energy. It had its share of slumps and cracks, but taken as a whole it’s a surprisingly smart little series. Definitely worth the 90-odd minutes it’ll take to watch it.
Shonen Ashibe Go! Go! Goma-chan
This cute show about a baby seal and his owner would be great for your younger kids (assuming they can read subs and/or it ever gets dubbed). I dropped off around episode 10 because, charming as it was, there’s only so much kindergarten-level TV I can watch before I lose interest. But I think of it fondly, and that ending theme will be in my head for weeks.
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