[Anime] Clannad After Story Review

Clannad After Story - 6-6.5/10

Clannad After Story is an extension of the Clannad original series, moving from a story of friends in high school to the beginnings of adult life.  This is a rare move for series of this type, as they are rooted firmly in adolescent drama and nostalgia and cannot risk moving beyond these themes.  After Story attempts to tackle this transition, and on many occasions succeeds well.  Unfortunately, it also carries with it many of the elements that hobbled Clannad which, in light of the increased seriousness of the content, makes their presence all the more jarring.  Because of these similarities this review will echo my review of Clannad on many points.

The Good:

As with Clannad, when the series didn't become excessive (more on that below), it was genuinely touching.  The highlight of After Story is Nagisa's death and the subsequent episodes in which Tomoya grapples with the aftermath.

The greatest daring of After Story is that Nagisa dies.  One of the two main characters, one that you have come to know throughout Clannad and After Story, is gone.  Even for somebody such as myself, who had been spoiled beforehand, the move was significant.  To actually remove a main character while there are still so many episodes to resolve is exceedingly rare, and for good reason.  People are invested in them, and when that character is suddenly gone they are forced to confront the aftermath.  This is why the timing in Nagisa's death is key.  Many series will casually kill off main characters near the end, if for no other reason than to demonstrate that it is the end.  But Nagisa's passing halfway through forces both Tomoya and the audience to confront the fact that life goes on.

It is during this process of recovery that After Story is the most meaningful, revisiting its core themes of family and the importance of connections between people.  After Nagisa's death Tomoya becomes a hollow shell as he withdraws from everybody around him, abandoning his child to the care of Sanae (Nagisa's mother).  But after several years he is forced to confront Ushio, to reconnect with his daughter, and so be brought back to life as he realizes how much his actions have impacted not just himself but all those around him.  It is during this resurrection that he also gains a new appreciation for those around him.  The three best elements during this arc of the series were:

• Nagisa's death scene: Everybody, everything, is removed except Tomoya, Nagisa, and Ushio.  The rest of the world, for this moment, matters so little that it does not exist.  The abundant light shows that Nagisa is not completely in this world anymore, with the screen beginning to waver and dim as she fades.  Nagisa's face in particular also deserves comment.  She was exhausted beyond description, fading from her last great effort of giving birth.  It was simply well-crafted with all the elements necessary for saying goodbye.

• Closure with Naoyuki Okazaki: Tomoya's coming to terms with his father is handled very well.  Nothing is more frustrating in a series than when a character reconnects with an abusive figure through reinterpretation rather than understanding.  That is, in an attempt to explain why the audience should now care about the formerly "evil" human being, a series will offer up a feeble back story to explain why they weren't actually bad.  They were just misguided.  Or trying too hard.  Or had some tragedy that justified their harshness.  This approach is simplistic, hinging on the assumption that a person is singularly good or evil.  It cheapens earlier suffering because now it must be glossed over in a feeble attempt to say, "But they didn't really mean it!"
  
  Naoyuki was an alcoholic.  He was abusive at times.  He got into shady, illegal business.  He was lost.  But he tried his best for his son even as it cost him everything.  This last point doesn't excuse what he did, and the series doesn't say so either: Naoyuki's own mother comments that he was a failure as a human in many ways.  In rediscovering his father Tomoya doesn't find a good man underneath.  Instead he is finally able to understand why, despite everything, Naoyuki always had a bafflingly friendly smile toward his estranged son.  It was only now that Tomoya had lost so much that he could finally see his father for who he was.

• The strength of Sanae Furukawa: Sanae is treated frivolously through much of the series, but this belies her true nature.  When Tomoya abandoned his life, it was Sanae that stepped in and raised her granddaughter even while suffering from the loss of her own precious child.  It was Sanae that put Ushio's wellbeing above her own loss.  This scene highlights her resolve beautifully, as Akio remarks that Sanae had not cried since Nagisa's passing.  She raised Ushio in a home of happiness rather than mourning, and there is nothing more to say.

Finally, as I close out this segment I want to tip my hat to how clean the series is.  Repeatedly in the past I have decried fan service as one of the perennial downfalls of good series.  Clannad (and After Story) avoids any sense of voyeurism by taking this more reserved approach.  In some ways, it may even go too far in the other direction: we never see the protagonists do more than hug each other, which is not very realistic in light of their relationship.  However, I will take this over a lurid romance that would have detracted from the series' underlying focus.

The Bad:

While all of my praise goes to the middle of the series, the first eight episodes and the last plot episode (22) are, for lack of a better word, garbage.

The first eight episodes are painfully incongruous with the rest of the series.  They take place while the characters are still in high school and are far less mature than the rest of After Story.  The whole is diminished for their presence. The episodes in which the rival gangs made up struck me as particularly inane.  These episodes belonged with Clannad and its high school antics, not the transition to maturity that After Story was supposed to be.  I could only give a sigh of relief when they were over.

However, as frustrating as the first episodes are at least I could pretend they were part of another series.  But episode 22, coming at the end, utterly and completely negates the entire meaning and purpose of the anime.  In the final episodes a reconciled Tomoya is living with his daughter, but she is beginning to show the same signs of sickness that Nagisa did.  As Ushio gets more and more ill the series darkens again, and finally in a tearjerker scene she dies as well.  But, through the magic of...being a light novel with latent magical elements, the good karma of Tomoya rewinds time, Nagisa lives, everybody's happy, the end.

I cannot over emphasize how detrimental this cop-out is.  If it was not abundantly clear, Nagisa's death is the pivotal driving force for the best parts of the show.  Without her death Tomoya would have never grown into the man he is at the end.  He would never have reconciled with his father or viewed his mother-in-law as anything other than a fixture.  He would have remain emotionally stunted, a short-tempered teenager with a chip on his shoulder.  More than this, we lose the message that life involves pain, but continues anyway.  Before this excessively tragic end, the hope remained that there was a path out of dark places.  By attempting to go back and whitewash everything to be happier, episode 22 completely fails the series and undermines the power of Clannad's message.

This brings me to the other point, and that is that Ushio's death is utterly unnecessary.  Ushio was designed to be weapons-grade adorable.  Everything about her design and mannerisms screams "cute."  Too cute, really, considering we never once see her misbehave or act in a way that isn't formulated to evoke a sigh of affection.  Metaphorically, they fattened her up for the sacrifice.  While Nagisa's death was the catalyst that powered the story, Ushio's death is for no other reason than to evoke sorrow.  Cheaply at that, for she is functionally "dead" for less than 10 minutes of screen time before everything is magically fixed.  It is one of the most egregious cases of emotional pandering I have ever seen.

Finally, the same complaints I had about Clannad's inability to control the "emotional volume" and its tendency toward contrived and supernatural plot devices remain in force, although slightly more muted in After Story.  As I have already expounded on those in my Clannad review I am not going to spend the time here.

In summary, After Story follows in the same footsteps as Clannad: touching at key moments, but otherwise held back by its general mediocrity and deus ex machina resolution.

p.s. I think the ending I would have liked the most was if Tomoya had pursued his newfound relationship with Kyou and ended up marrying her.  It would have been a bittersweet conclusion to the series, with the memory of Nagisa slowly fading while his new life took off.  Shame we got the mess we did instead.

[Anime] Princess Tutu Review

Princess Tutu - 7.5/10

Princess Tutu is a traditional family friendly fantasy with modern finesse.  What is most charming about Princess Tutu is its earnest simplicity.  The setting is that of a fairy tale: princes are noble, princesses are beautiful, love is eternal, and dreams come true.  In a word, it sounds cheesy.  And yet, I found myself sucked into it as it executed its premise expertly.  While watching it I likened it to coming on a child playing make-believe.  At first you find yourself only patronizing them.  Clearly you know better; you just don't want to hurt any feelings.  But strangely, against your will, you find that the enjoyment is genuine and that perhaps you're not so superior after all.

I think the other key to appreciating Princess Tutu is just knowing that it isn't trying to be subtle or deconstructionist.  There are some twists and turns in the story that keep things interesting (more on that below), but these are merely the evolution of the genre.  They are not a grim negation of what has come before such as what Evangelion or Madoka aimed to do for mecha and magical girl respectively.

Finally, where I watched the series only had the English dub.  At first I considered this a bad thing but it grew on me rapidly. The anime has such a Western tone that hearing it in English seems natural after a short time. In addition, Luci Christian knocks it out of the park with her performance as Ahiru/Duck; after just a couple of episodes I had a hard time imagining this character with any other voice.

The Good:
First, let's get the obvious out of the way: the music.  The entire series is based on various ballets, and many of the episodes feature orchestral music to match.  I am far from being an expert on the pieces, but I did enjoy them as they added some variety to each episode.

Next, I'd like to tip my hat to the child characters.  I normally criticize young characters in anime, saying time and time again how the choice of adolescents is to the detriment of the plot.  This is one of the few series where I would say the age choice is entirely appropriate.  The simpler emotional structure of the series would be drivel if coming from adults, but from 12-14-year-olds it is more believable.  Fakir's development in particular fits the mold perfectly, although the arc they took him on was unexpected.

And finally, I would like to give some praise to Princess Tutu's plot.  The most surprising thing about it was the lack of major plot twists.  They told us from the earliest episodes what would happen: Tutu returns the shards, Prince fights Crow, the story ends happily.  Drosselmeyer isn't reinterpreted as the good guy, the Crow isn't secretly a tragic figure.  But what makes the plot different are the small wrinkles thrown in along the way:

• Tutu doesn't end up with Myuuto as his princess.  She reverts to a duck with no special powers.  I was confident that a way would be found to avoid her fate, that she would overcome her inability to confess her love and live happily ever after.  Instead she really does sacrifice her abilities, fulfilling her mission in spite of her fear, and ends with no regrets.  When reading others' comments I found many to regard this as a negative result, but I found it to be a very sincere conclusion to the anime.
• Fakir's development was similarly surprising.  Most stories would resolve Fakir's plight by having him overcome this weakness and finding the courage to be a great knight.  Instead he finds out he really is a mediocre knight, and that his ability lies elsewhere.  Again like many of these modifications, it was simple but unexpected in light of traditional stories.
• The events of the story are actually being written by Drosselmeyer, a character within that story.  While the story is intelligible without this aspect, it neatly explains why some of the coincidences occur, such as why people are saved at the last second and how they never quite give up.
  
  One interesting effect of this storybook setting is how easily we overlook the strangeness of the animal people wandering around town.  When first confronted with them I was surprised, but when the characters didn't act surprised I simply assumed there was an explanation.  At the end the series draws your attention to this oddity, reminding you that this is not normal and that no explanation was ever offered.  In short, it uses our own suspension of disbelief to trick us into accepting something outrageous.  A small, but delightful, twist to be caught in as the viewer.
• Tutu doesn't use violence in any way.  I'm not sure if this was a personal surprise, but when some of the interactions turned ugly I expected her to break out some sort of special magic or something.  But no, her only power is emotional comfort.  It was an aspect of her personality that made so much sense but it was so easy to expect something otherwise.

This gives a taste of how the practical execution of these small modifications on a traditional framework kept Princess Tutu recognizable but fresh at the same time.

The Bad:
If I had to level a criticism at Princess Tutu, it is that there were some aspects that were overused.  Through the entire series, all 26 episodes, they skip Tutu's transformation scene once (it is in the second to last episode; trust me, I was watching).  This obviously isn't a major sin, but it reflects the fact that at times Tutu's scenes are remarkably repetitive.

Initially the repeated approach of Tutu showing up, asking them to dance, and solving their problems was to be expected.  It lays the foundations so when things don't always follow that formula later it has more impact.  After these deviations the second half of the series returns to this pattern as the corrupted Myuuto tries to steal the hearts of various girls and Tutu must save them.  Unfortunately, these situations were nearly identical, evoking a sense of déjà vu as similar scenarios are rehashed.  Entire episodes dedicated to flower girl or love-letter-carrying girl were unnecessary and made the middle of the series drag.

There are also some times where I would have to criticize the use of stills, again as part of the repetition issue.  However, I don't judge the series to harshly for this.  It is merely something I noticed.

In closing, Princess Tutu is a series that I feel doesn't get nearly enough recognition.  It might not sound or look like much at first, but it dances circles around many flashier series.

[Anime] Shinsekai Yori Review

"[People are] forgetful that they themselves perhaps tolerate...inequalities under a mistaken notion of expediency, the correction of which would make that which they approve seem quite as monstrous as what they have at last learnt to condemn." - John Stuart Mill

Shinsekai Yori – 9/10

Shinsekai Yori is an engrossing tale that merges the intimacies of a coming-of-age story with the grander narrative of a future society molded by the necessities of humanity’s new powers.

In the future, every member of society is telekinetic.  It is more than being able to move large objects with their minds: humans are able to affect the subtle structure of the world around them with subconscious desire.  It is a level of control over our surroundings that far surpasses anything humanity has ever experienced.  On the surface this sounds like a utopia, for humans no longer need fear the world around them.  However, this immense Power has brought forth a terrifying reality: humanity’s greatest threat is now itself.

The strange truth is that the description I gave above is surprisingly close to the current state of affairs for humans in developed nations.  Almost all of our stress and want come from the actions of other human beings, not the environment.  If we lack it is not because of the inability to provide, and more than ever our fate is in our own hands.  This verisimilitude to our current state is what allows SSY to surpass being a simple supernatural-themed series about telekinetic children and cut to the heart of what makes society tick when it moves beyond the subsistence level.

"All the problems we face arise from the human mind."

The Good:

The strongest parts, if it was not already made clear, are the setting and exploration of themes using this futuristic society as a model.  It is world building at its finest, taking real principles and exploring their implications in a novel setting.

Foremost, there is the moral logic behind their community.  Killing children is generally considered wrong.  Yet early on we are presented with a situation in which this society watches them so closely, and judges their actions so harshly, that they can be disposed of on the basis of seemingly minor transgressions.  How is it that this “advanced” society can see this as justifiable in any way?

To understand, we must take a step back and examine morality in light of human society.  In biology, cooperation is a delicate balance between self-interest and group wellbeing.  Humans are no exception to this.  We give up some of the autonomy of living singly for the benefits of living socially.  Our moral structure reflects this, with a mixture of individual and group values that are often in conflict with one another.  Our modern concept of “rights” is an attempt to formalize the line which societies cannot cross; rules of thumb rather than laws of nature.

In our 21st century democracies we have come to prize individualism more than any other group of humans in history.  We have this luxury due to the immense improvements science and technology have wrought; there is little need for any of us to sacrifice to ensure the whole survives.  But this was not always the case.  In tribal cultures, infanticide is commonplace.  This isn’t due to callousness or misguided superstition.  It is a response to necessity: if the tribe cannot support more people, then it risks starvation by supporting too many mouths that cannot feed themselves.  The needs of the whole must outweigh those of a single life, regardless of what “rights” they have.

A distant mirror.

The world of SSY bears a greater resemblance to the tribal condition than our own.  In this situation a single child with dubious qualities may result in a catastrophe.  Even a single failure can result in the annihilation of their society.  It is a risk that their own history has shown is not worth taking.  As repugnant as their behaviors seem to us, there is a strong justification for why it must be the way it is.  It is we, as 21st century viewers, who are misguided by our long acquaintance with individualism.  For the elders to pursue a sort of hopeful carelessness, praying that the worst does not happen, is far more inexcusable than the policies they pursue.

The presentation of this moral structure is another of SSY’s strengths.  The narrative pursues a purposeful misrepresentation of the situation through the eyes of the children.  We are so easy to trick, falling into the trap that surely the children must be the ones in the right.  After all, who doesn’t assume the little trip up the river, beyond the barrier, was nothing more than harmless fun?  Or that when the censorship of the past is discovered, that it was clearly unnecessary and malign?  And of course, we are all hoping that Maria and Mamoru escape the town and live happily, away from the vile clutches of the Education Committee.

Yet as it becomes clear later: these events are what directly led to Shun’s mental disintegration, the Monster Rat rebellion, and the Messiah fiend.  The adolescents, rather than seeing things in a clearer fashion, were dangerously ignorant of their world.  Their well-intentioned fumbling was the catalyst for disaster.  It was a testament to the quality of the series that it causes us to sympathize with the protagonists while having them in the wrong.  However, blended with the true faults of the society (its dehumanization of the Monster Rats, the miscalculations on the part of the committee) it is not a simple message about trusting authority, but a more nuanced insight into what drives them to do what they do.

Something's not quite right with this...

Finally, I want to end this section with a tribute to my favorite character of the series: Squealer.  Squealer is not a likable character.  His appearance is unattractive.  His behaviors are a mixture of servile groveling, cowardice, and vindictive anger.  Even his name is pejorative.  Clearly he is inferior, we think.  And yet, just like how we are misled about the nature of the society, so are we placated easily by our assured superiority.

Squealer is both intelligent and cunning.  He is not a brave warrior like Kiroumaru, but a driven and idealistic rebel who cares deeply about his cause.  More disturbing to us, his beliefs are not without merit: he and his race are subject to gross inequalities, both under their own queens and the lordly “true” humans.  Seizing the opportunity presented to him, Squealer hoped to better the lot of all Monster Rats.

I do not seek to justify his terror tactics.  Like many revolutionaries before him, he views the potential good of his cause outweighing any evil done in its name.  However, the desperation of his situation and the power of his arguments cannot be ignored.  In one of the best scenes of the series, Saki asks him to apologize for all the deaths he was responsible for.  His retort is simple: he will happily apologize, if only she will apologize first for treating his kin like chaff.  The scene ends with no response.  For a more thorough analysis, I would recommend this post.

The Bad:

As excellent as Shinsekai Yori is, it has a couple noteworthy flaws.  The first is the overall quality of the animation, which noticeably dips on several occasions (the backgrounds remain striking, however).  Episode 5 in particular looks to be done by a different studio, and is frustratingly incongruous with the rest of the series.  However, I don’t wish to spend too much time haranguing on this; it simply makes me a little sad that SSY wasn’t given a better treatment.

There are also plot points that feel slightly forced for the sake of the overall story.  Many of these occur in the early episodes of the series while the children are stuck in the wilderness.  I was incredulous about the ease with which they gained access to the wandering library, bypassing all regulations by the simplest of threats.  The explanation as to how the children got all their powers back was equally convenient.  Finally, the odd menagerie of mutants and technology (gas pumps) that the Monster Rats had access to seemed out of place.

The Tokyo segment also has a distinct sense of being unnecessary.  While it does give an opportunity to become more acquainted with Kiroumaru, the series could have resolved just as effectively by remaining in Kamisu 66.  Overall it felt like more of a detour than a natural progression of the plot.  This and other parts don’t individually sink the series, but it does make it feel flimsy at certain points.

However, despite these shortcomings SSY is a marvelous piece that seamlessly links intriguing concepts of social morality with a harrowing story of children growing up in this brave new world.

[Anime] Kekkai Sensen Review

Kekkai Sensen – 7/10

Kekkai Sensen is the psychedelic journey of Leonard Watch in the upside-down world of a monster-infested New York.  Being sane gets you nowhere in this little corner of the world(s), leaving Leonardo (and the audience) to constantly to wonder what will happen next.  With a bit of action, a bit of drama, and a bit of comedy Kekkai Sensen is quite the ride.

Note: unlike usual, I will be using the character design plates when linking a picture of the person in question.  I do this because of the series' exceptional visual design is crucial, and random scenes are not as effective at conveying this.

The Good:

The visual design of Kekkai Sensen is one of its most striking, and strongest, elements.  The world it is set in is absurd, and the style matches this perfectly.  But it is more than simply being extreme or over-the-top: there is a great deal of love put into the details which craft the atmosphere.

First, any listing of Kekkai Sensen's visuals would be remiss if it didn't include the opening and closing songs:

OP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J8jcI0WtzM

An impressively long shot as the sun slowly dawns over the city, smoothly transitioning into a collage of pictures making up the otherworldly cloud that hangs over the city.  This quickly transmits a sense of scale and detail to the setting - that it is a vast city made of many individual stories, an impression reinforced by the subsequent scenes of the main characters walking through the vast and varied crowds.  While the latter parts were a bit more standard fare, I still greatly enjoyed this OP.

ED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3SlUmr_T4g

The ending credits take a somewhat different approach, focusing more exclusively on the myriad characters that make up the show.  What is impressive is how effectively the nature and relationships of the characters are expressed in such a short time.  From Klaus's stodgy clapping to Chain's reflexive punches at Zapp, it takes only a second to give us an immediate idea of the personalities involved.  What is particularly telling are the scenes in which Libra attempts to dance together.  Despite their best efforts they're all just a bit too individualistic to work in synchrony, but they get along just the same.

This strategy of efficient visual demonstration extends to the individual characters as well.  From Leo's pedestrian street clothes to Chain's plain suit to Klaus's gentlemanly jacket you can immediately assess the characters just on how they look.  Backing these visuals, each character is idiosyncratic, with a well-crafted set of quirks that easily identify them.  This extends even to minor characters such as Don Arlelelle Eurca Felgouche, who despite only featuring in a singe episode, is memorable.  When it comes to establishing characters through appearance and mannerisms, Kekkai Sensen is second to none.

To round out this section, I want to end with a discussion of a few of my favorites from the series, if simply because of how much I enjoyed watching them:

• White: White was a joy to have on screen.  The attractive simplicity of her design combined with the smooth mixture of humor and seriousness in her personality produced a wonderful female lead.  What is even more shocking is that she is anime-original.  Usually when a character is introduced in this fashion they stand out painfully from the surroundings, a blistering sore on the series.  That White was so effortlessly integrated is a testament to her character.  I will genuinely miss her.

• Klaus von Reinherz: My other favorite of the series, Klaus is the definition of "indomitable."  Typically in trying to demonstrate an unbreakable spirit a character is shown to go through predictable cycles of self-doubt, fear, and final desperate success by believing in themselves.  Klaus would have none of that.  He struggles (as in the “chess” episode), can be worried about the outcome (as when the barrier threatens to break), and can even lose (as against Black).  But each time he gathers his resolve quietly and steps forward again to do what must be done.  He was a perfect choice for the leader of Libra, a rock that everyone else could count on.

• Chain Sumeragi: Chain is unusual in that despite her early introduction, she remains in the background for most of the series.  In spite of this, her essence is transmitted clearly.  Her attire is professional, her visage composed.  She is always there when needed but doesn't stick around for extra duty.  She isn't into heroics if she sees help is useless.  Yet another testament to Kekkai Sensen's ability to craft unique characters with limited cues.

• Dog Hummer and Deldro Brody: I found these two genuinely entertaining, with just enough exposure that they didn’t wear out their welcome.  There isn't much more to say on them, except that their story was morbidly funny and their interactions bafflingly effective.

The Bad:

Above I praised the series' ability to match its tone with the general incoherence of the world it represents.  Unfortunately, this extended into the presentation of the plot as well.  In the beginning, when the series is primarily episodic, this wasn't an issue; why things were happening didn't really matter, and it was wrapped up every episode anyways.  Then the Blood Born are introduced, and in one episode go from being non-entities to the Big Evil that Libra has apparently opposing up until now.  This sudden shift is handled poorly, and what is otherwise a serviceable plot is confused by messy implementation.

The other major weakness of Kekkai Sensen was the inexplicable failure to extend its virtuoso character building to key players.  The worst offenders are Steven and K.K.  Like all members of the cast, they have detailed designs that convey their basic nature: Steven is a professional while K.K. is more exotic.  Both are clearly experienced, exhibited by their scars and casual demeanor.  Beyond this they never receive more explanation.

For many characters, this wouldn't be a problem; there are plenty of supporting members who are little more than an eccentric face.  But as the series draws to a conclusion these two receive screen time equal to the primary characters, yet we have nothing to go on.  I can't remember the first episodes they are featured in, their personalities, or their motivations.  Everybody else has blood powers, why are Steven's based on ice?  And where was K.K. for most of the series?  She acts familiar with the entire team, yet we never see her outside crucial plot scenes.  Nowhere are these defects more damaging than in the first encounter with the Blood Born, in which Steven and K.K. fight a desperate losing battle.  These two are humanity's first responders, giving valorous speeches and demonstrating their resolve in the face of this evil scourge.  But just as the introduction of the Blood Born was muddled by its abruptness, the heroics are weakened coming from characters we do not know.

To complete the litany of semi-pointless characters, Femt, King of Depravity, must also be mentioned.  He is the first villain we are introduced to in the series.  His escapades are clearly sadistic.  His background indicates that he is a criminal mastermind with resources, connections, and an audience hungry for more.  Surely he is to play a major role as the excessively-demented antagonist?  Well, I am sorry to notify you of Femt's untimely demise from the script.  He becomes nothing more than a commentator on William's actions.   The complete mismatch between his initial presentation and ultimate impact was dismal.

I was also disappointed in the lack of world-building detail.  Kekkai Sensen's setting is expansive, with a plethora of questions waiting to be answered.  Often a series can get away with leaving these ends open, allowing the audience to use their imaginations to create their own stories.  But in Kekkai Sensen we aren't even give enough to dream on.  There is no exposition of the magic system, the different guilds that operate within the city, the levels of reality, or the other Kings that rule them.  The final sensation is one of frayed ends rather than being elegantly unresolved.

In conclusion, Kekkai Sensen is an enjoyable, if flawed, series.  It was nothing out of the ordinary in terms of its plot or message, but made up for this in spades with its exuberant visuals, quirky humor and detailed character design.  A solid choice for when you just want something fun and entertaining without having to worry too much about the point of it all.

[Anime] The Perfect Insider Review

Subete ga F ni Naru: The Perfect Insider - 6.5/10

"The Perfect Insider" is an anime that is unintentionally self-referential: just like Dr. Magata, it also suffers from multiple personality disorder.  It wants dearly to be a profound metaphysical series while still staying rooted in the practical intrigues of a murder mystery.  Unfortunately, it comes up short on insights, which in turn hurts what otherwise would have been a perfectly good thriller.

In order to understand what the Perfect Insider is attempting to do philosophically, some explanation is necessary.  The story centers on a group of software engineers: Saikawa the reserved professor, Nishinosono his enamored student, and Magata Shiki the unfathomable genius.  Watching the ED you will see that it draws heavily on the imagery of  Conway's Game of Life, which is a program that digitally recreates complex, evolving patterns from simple rules.  This has garnered some interest in the intellectual community.  Some mathematicians, namely Wolfram, have gone so far as to say that this could represent a new way of understanding the world.

The idea then is that these software engineers are, in a sense, plumbing new views of reality in their research.  Dr. Magata is the pinnacle of this detachment from normal reality.  She is reminiscent of the uberman idea, that morals and social trappings are merely fetters for those who are truly profound.  She has committed some acts which are considered unconscionable: sleeping with her married uncle, murdering her parents, and using her daughter's mutilated body as a decoy for her escape.  On top of this, she is additionally removed as she has "taken in" what she valued from the outer reality in the form of her multiple personalities, with each one representing something she lost on the "outside."  And finally, she has cut herself off from for 15 years and has even invented a virtual reality chamber to allow the inner world to be projected as though it were the real one.

However, this is also where the series falters.  The process of revealing Magata's background and inner workings is interesting in itself, and along with the mystery could stand alone as a compelling anime.  But then it tries to take one step further by trying to be just a bit too clever, giving contradictory indications as to what it is trying to express.  On one hand it holds up Saikawa and Magata as unfathomable beings, lost in their deep and moving thoughts.  On the other, it has Nishinosono acting as a normal social anchor and the explanation of how Saikawa supported and raised her in her worst times shows how important normal human morality is. Unfortunately I could not detect any indications that it was using this as a subtle conflict, and so was left simply dissatisfied that it ruined a perfectly good mystery with its quibbling.

The Good: The actual, honest-to-goodness mystery at the core of its real world story.  I was really interested to find out what had happened in the past and what was actually happening at the laboratory.  I really think this was the strongest aspect of the series and it's what kept me watching every week.

The execution of more sensitive scenes and topics were also very tastefully handled.  Magata is a minor and basically seduces her uncle.  This has the potential to be a very disgusting topic, but the way the narration is done, how it stays far away from any visual depiction, and the general way that it treats the scene as fundamentally negative keeps it from being any sort of voyeurism.  The same applies to the murders.  They are scenes of horror and confusion, not excitement.  All in all, it managed to have a very dark story in places without using the topics to get cheap views.

To support its story, the art is also top notch with its design and pallet.  The style is, for lack of a better word, antiseptic.  If you pay attention you'll notice that everything looks an unearthly level of clean, as though it's not entirely real.  This supports the general themes that I mentioned above, and overall gives an eerie atmosphere that is perfect for both a philosophical and mystery piece.

Finally the OP and ED were both great and I watched them nearly every time.  They were visually very appealing while at the same time connected firmly with the themes and feel of the series.  As somebody pointed out, in the OP they can never actually touch Magata unless she lets them.  Otherwise she is always elusive.

The Bad: As already mentioned, the biggest issue I took with the series was its attempts at being profound.  In particular some of the final statements made really got to me:

In the last episode, Magata has a philosophical chat with Saikawa and has several statements that were just painful.  The one that really got to me was her statement, "Nobody fears death, just the life and suffering before death."  No, I'm sorry, that's entirely and completely off base.  In fact, if anything a crushing sense of mortality is what scares most people into never thinking about it.  I mean, perhaps Magata is expressing a truth for herself because she is so alien, but she was such a poor observer of humanity (she was locked up for 15 years...) that it made me cringe.

Perhaps it's the biologist in me, but in this day and age I consider any speculation on the nature of humans to require an understanding of and reference to evolution and biology.  They don't explain and account for everything about humans (I'm not a reductionist), but the time for baseless speculation of this sort without science has passed.

What is worse is that in order to make room for some of these musings, the series had to cut short some of its story elements.  Basically we're presented with some of the pivotal story realizations in the forms of flashes or Saikawa staring blankly into space while essentially spanning what were plot holes for the audience.  The scene that got to me was when Saikawa finally figures out that the daughter was brought inside with Magata.  Rather than any sort of reasonable cues as to what he understood, we're treated to a deluge of visual images that would confuse even Picasso.  Apparently the image of ostriches represents that ostrich meat is considered good for mothers, but the fact that I had to go research this to even make sense kind of ruins the impact.  A little more time spent spelling out the steps for the rest of us would have gone a long way to improving the story from a practical stand point.

Finally, I found Nishinosono Moe completely insufferable as a character.  I'm not necessarily saying she was a bad character, but the fact that she went into super-possessive mode of Saikawa every time another female so much as entered the room got really old.  The truth is that she didn't understand him in the slightest the entire time, and the fact that she keeps trying to aggressively foist herself on him romantically was painful.  I contemplated that maybe she was important to the series for some reason, perhaps acting as a foil to the more ethereal characters, but in the end I just couldn't make myself appreciate her.

So in conclusion, The Perfect Insider aimed high with its blend of interesting story and philosophical introspection, but became tangled in its own "complexity" and found itself a bit lost.

[Anime] Death Parade Review

Death Parade - 7.5/10

Parade (noun): a procession of people, often in costume, celebrating a special day or event.

Death Parade is a cavalcade of people whose time has come, usually in an unexpected manner.  So shocked are they at the transition that they have forgotten that they are dead, and so they continue to put on their usual face (farce?) until they are apprehended by the inescapable truth of their demise.  It is the purpose of arbiters to prompt and observe this transition, using it as the basis on which to judge the nature of the person.

At its core, Death Parade asks what constitutes a good person and a meaningful life, using the clarity of death to expose people to their essence.  The series begins in a fairly straightforward way, with it being assumed that a good life is one which results in reincarnation and a bad one the void.  However, cracks begin to appear in this narrative almost immediately.  The verdicts rendered often seem strange...misplaced.  What becomes apparent is the judgments of the arbiters are, in fact, flawed.  Or, more precisely, perhaps the very idea of judgment is flawed.

This is where the series comes into its own, with the dawning realization of the conundrum of Quindecim: how is it that judges, lacking empathy, can fully comprehend the nature of the people whose fates they are deciding?  And, more deeply, is judgement even possible after having truly felt as another?

The Good: 

The stories of the people who come into Quindecim.  The way in which the layers are peeled back, exposing people's loves, desires, fears, and hopes is what makes the series tick.  It is the concreteness of the individuals that allows Death Parade to pursue its central themes so effectively.  To merely state that judgement is flawed is one thing.  To see desperate, confused humans struggle against their own weaknesses and mixed motives, is another.  This brings me to what are two of the most diametrically opposed, yet equally powerful, scenes in any anime: the judgement of the murderers and Chiyuki's ice skating.

At the end of episode 9 it has become apparent that the murderers are entirely different.  On one hand is a kind brother who was driven to rage and violence by the assault and rape of his beloved little sister.  With the other is a man who is dedicated to the eradication of evil, but at the cost of allowing it to occur so that he may justify striking them down.  Goaded beyond restraint the brother gives in to his darkness and inflicts heinous suffering on the older man, in vengeance for his inaction.  The sad episode ends with Decim overwhelmed by the evil he has produced, sending both to the void.

By comparison, Chiyuki's ice skating scene is sublime.  A beautiful, wordless review of her life and a potent reminder of its waste.  Set to the lush Moonlight Night, I have found myself on more than one occasion rewatching this scene just to dip into its poignant tranquility.  It is a reminder of how much love went into just one person's short life.

Supporting all these events, the art of Death Parade is on point.  The design of Quindecim is elegant, with its muted ambiance and cool colors falling away into the darkness.  Combined with the silent jellyfish above, it generates a sense of the otherworldly.  The smooth musical score also adds to the calm background.  Also as an outlier, the opening song is incongruous yet extraordinarily catchy; I can't hate it even while feeling it is such a mismatch with the rest of the series.

Finally, as I close out this segment, I would like to make mention of miscellaneous touches that I personally enjoyed:

• Chiyuki's "skin" first comes off at the wrist where she cut herself.  Later as she further degrades it is from the knee, where the wound that precipitated her death was located.
• The visual designs of Nona and the young Chiyuki were particularly enjoyable for me.  The former was diminutive yet imposing, an appropriate stature for her role.  The latter was simply adorable.  When she said her favorite part about Chavvot was her smile, and then mimicked it with her own big grin, was really sweet.
• Spike and Yagami Light making cameos was pretty funny, and both extremely appropriate for their respective series.
• Chiyuki's name means "knowing happiness."  I love that.

The Bad:

Death Parade, for all its grandeur, often stumbles when it comes to the details of its execution.  In particular, the depiction of Quindecim and its inhabitants.

Quindecim is part of an overall apparatus for judgement, which has various departments, overseers, a bureaucracy, and all the trappings that come with a government agency.  This peculiarly Eastern view of the afterlife never sits right with me, because it clearly moves beyond metaphor into a quasi-literal interpretation.  In Death Parade we are given just enough details that the setting is concrete, but with many loose ends that it is insubstantial with many dangling issues.  The most egregious of these is Oculus' comment that God has since departed to leave the running of things to him and the other arbiters.  Wait!  What was that again?!?  This may be slightly important...and it is never touched on again.

Speaking of Oculus, he is a prime example of the type of addition the series did not need.  Quin, Nona, Ginti, and the rest are fine characters in their own right, but are ultimately a detraction simply because they take time and focus away from the better elements.  Their own stories and interactions are just not that important compared to the real people.

Finally, an issue that stuck with me from my particular translation was that the arbiters were continually referred to as having no emotion.  Their depiction was entirely incongruous with this statement.  They display exhaustion, anger, frustration, disillusionment, boredom, and even sadism.  Perhaps this was a translation error, but it was one that nagged at me the entire time.

Even with all these problems taken into consideration, I still give Death Parade the highest recommendation.  It is extraordinarily powerful and moving when it is at its best.  It will make you think over your life and, if you are receptive, remind you not to take its wondrous confusion for granted.

[Anime] Your Lie In April Review

Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso (Your Lie In April) - 4/10

"It was only a hopeless fancy
It passed like an April dye
But a look and a word and the dreams they stirred
They have stolen my heart away"
-George Orwell, 1984

"Shigatsu" is a saccharine middle school drama, centered on the recovery of the Kousei Arima's will and ability to play the piano.  I was drawn in initially by the promise of good music and the setting of two people connecting and helping each other through their passions.  However, what starts as an intriguing premise becomes an excuse to wallow in adolescent monologues and sentimentality.

Before beginning the review in earnest, a discussion on the difference between good and bad sentiment is in order.  All series aim to make us feel something.  To accuse a work of trying to manipulate feelings is to point out the obvious, and we are rightfully disappointed when it fails to do so.  We pay good money for this experience.  The difference is in the intent of the manipulation.

A good series has content that causes the viewer to feel something because of its meaning or impact.  It is confronting a situation which is emotionally evocative, either positively or negatively.  It is legitimately trying to do or say something with regards to its subject.  If executed well, the viewer responds emotionally to the creation.  By comparison, if a series' primary objective is to make its viewers feel, rather than be substantial, then its emotional content is meaningless.  It is put on for show in an attempt to fish for the reaction, but the content is insubstantial.  It's the equivalent of an artificial sweetener: there are no actual calories, but it tastes (mostly) like the real thing.

While I get ahead of myself for "The Bad," I found that Shigatsu fell into the latter category.  It took a collection of emotionally-charged subjects (young life, romance, spring/awakening, music, and sick/dying children) and packaged them together in hopes of getting some easy tears.  This was the inspiration for this review's quote.  In 1984 there is a segment where Winston is visiting the entertainment wing of the Ministry of Truth, and he comes on the music department:

"Here were produced...sentimental songs which were composed entirely by mechanical means on a special kind of kaleidoscope known as a versificator."

In other words, a list of emotional words and phrases are thrown together in a tumbler and the order that they fall out is used to create a song.  Shigatsu has all the earmarks of being produced in an equivalent human fashion: "hopeless fancy," "April dye" (spring rain), "dreams they stirred," and "stolen my heart" sum up much of the anime.  It lacks any real substance, but it's enough to trigger emotions and get the results it wants.

I loved these stills.

The Good:
The production quality of this series was superb.  The colors were very soft but vibrant, giving a gentle look to the visuals.  The backgrounds in particular struck me, as they seemed to stray into an almost pastel range with their presentation.  Character design was also very pleasant.  What impressed me the most was how effective the incorporation of small amounts of color into their cheeks and lips made them feel more alive than most anime characters.

The atmosphere is also supported strongly by the music (which, frankly, it would be an embarrassment if a series like Shigatsu had bad music).  Both the pieces composed for the series itself as well as the classical arrangements played by the characters are well-chosen, and run the range from discordant frustration to serene sadness.  Even as somebody who is not particularly musical I could appreciate the attention given to this facet of the show.

While I was unimpressed by most of the characters, one did stand out to me: Saki, Kousei's mother.  This may seem strange, but for the first half of the series I found her the most compelling.  Saki was a person at the end of her rope.  She was clearly somebody who was always ambitious and in control.  When sickness took her, there was nothing she could do except wither slowly until she died.  In the grip of this, she turned all of her remaining attention to the one thing she could control: her child.  Devolving into an abusive relationship, she pushed him relentlessly as an extension of herself.  By the end she was deranged, and through the sad psychology of abuse her child was manipulated into feeling that he was at fault for things that were never under anybody's control.

Sadly, they completely ruined her character around the halfway point.  In order for Kousei to come to terms with his abuse the series attempts to explain away Saki's behavior.  It turns exclusively to remembering the early days, before she began her long descent.  Using this, it justifies Saki in the light that she simply wanted her child to be the best and that the beatings and emotional torment were only a little excessive.  This is an insulting resolution, glossing over the real damage she did to her child in favor of an easy fix.

I was similarly excited-then-disappointed by the scene in the hospital where Kaori loses her composure.  She lashes out at Kousei, blaming and berating him.  In that moment she mirrored Kousei's mother more strongly than ever.  I hoped that perhaps they would connect the two more firmly: that Kaori's childish forcefulness and selfishness, her impulsive behavior, and her erratic violence were actually natural precursors to somebody like Saki.  That perhaps there is a dark side to living your life on the whim of your feelings.  But then this parallel never manifested itself and the show swiftly moved on.

Finally, I am a sucker for good death scenes, and Kaori's final moments were indeed excellent.  It was a very sweet last duet to have her spiritually playing alongside Kousei, knowing what this meant for her surgery elsewhere.  That the series decided to skip the actual funeral scene would have been brilliant, by making sure the final impression of her was so glowing.  Unfortunately, the gains made by this move were completely lost by the over-the-top 10-minute letter reading at the end.

Dead giveaway what was going to happen.

The Bad: 
I have already thoroughly covered the cardinal sin of the series: that it is suffused with purposeless feeling.  However, there are several other aspects which sink the series into mediocrity.

First is its total inability to keep an even tone.  It raised the art of bathos to such heights that I could only be impressed.  Any serious interaction, if extending for longer than ten seconds, was promptly interrupted by what can only be described as "anime outtake" mode.  If this was a subtle attempt to mirror the rapidly vacillating emotions of its subjects, it was lost on me and served instead to ruin the mood.  There were many satisfactory scenes that became a hash of incompatible impulses under such direction.

Paralleling this, many of the performance scenes were also disrupted by the injection of excessive introspection.  In that moment of performance, all of one's attention turns to the task at hand.  It is a moment of flow.  At that time, conscious thinking actually decreases.  The immediateness of the experience is produced by a reduction in our thoughtfulness.  For the moment at least, we are in the here and now.  It is totally incompatible with "deep" musings about one's self, and the fusion of the two is nonsensical.

The pacing of the series also felt off to me.  It felt like thirteen episodes of content stretched to twenty-two.  The amount of reminiscing and remembering, coupled with frequent flashbacks, padded the series.  This was most egregious where sometimes the flashbacks were of the same episode, now brought back again to lead to another...um...epiphany.  Similarly, while I appreciate Kousei's trauma is real, the scene of him huddling and crying as a child was replayed practically once an episode for the first half of the series.  The introduction of completely unnecessary and unimportant side characters in the latter half of the series also soaked up screen time, extending what was functionally one cour of content into two.

So in conclusion, I had high hopes at the beginning of the series.  The appearance and music drew me in and promised a lush experience.  Unfortunately, its shallow emotional underpinnings and protracted execution destroyed the impact it could have had.