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In the world of adaptation, there’s a rare breed that superficially uses the source material, before branching off into infinitely more enjoyable dalliances in creativity. The best examples are shows like Galaxy Angel and Sengoku Collection, which provide token acknowledgement of their far less interesting source material before greatly diverging into sci-fi gag comedy and movie homage, respectively. When it was announced, I suspected that SoniAni would follow the same approach, given that they decided to give a character with the personality of a grass stain her own show. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t kind of right.

The first episode does not start things ... off well—it covers what Sonico /is/ without hinting at whether there’s actual human thought happening beneath her near-plastic exterior. She’s a model, she’s a marine biology student, she’s a server at her grandmother’s ramen joint, and she’s the guitarist in a three-piece ensemble. But as far as her personality is concerned, all that’s established is that Sonico is a reactionary, well-endowed nonentity whose identity is wholly intertwined with what she does. It creates something of a barrier to entry, but SoniAni follows up in later episodes with surprisingly smart writing that, while it doesn’t expand on her character (or lack thereof) to any significant degree, puts her in situations that her endlessly sunny disposition can easily carry her through.

Of course, even if left unexplained, I think I can comfortably say that any amount of writing for SoniAni would be surprisingly strong. Hell, anything more than her being ogled by model photographers would be a step above what I expected. But it doesn’t just settle for the bare minimum of not being reprehensible, instead creating a plethora of well-executed one-off stories, accompanied by endlessly creative ED sequences. SoniAni knows the limits of its lead, and it goes to great lengths to put her in situations where her happy-go-lucky personality and propensity toward clumsiness act as catalysts for a broad array of fun, quirky plotlines that range from pseudo-murder mysteries to Sonico just wandering the countryside. The end result is thankfully rarely tedious, and the sheer variety keeps it from getting bogged down.

The writing isn’t the only thing that carries SoniAni, though it is what keeps it from falling into the dregs of failed mascot promotion. There’s legitimately strong visual direction on display, the highlight of which is the aforementioned series of ED sequences, which transplants Sonico’s brand of forgettable, if pleasant pop-rock with completely unrelated scenes of surreal lunacy. One episode can end with a giant Sonico gleefully rampaging around a bustling cityscape, while another portrays her as a kitten owned by the Bill Dauterive of catmen. Even when the preceding material isn't anything to write home about, these sequences are an absolute joy to watch.

SoniAni has performed the feat of making something from nothing, and can claim its rightful place near the top of the pantheon of shows that are good to have on while doing something else—and I mean that in the best possible way. It’s enjoyable and surprisingly substantial when it wants to be, using Sonico as a jumping off point for explorations of wholly unrelated characters and plotlines. It sure as hell won’t be one of the best shows of 2014, but it deserves to be acknowledged as more than heartless promotion of a girl with headphones soldered to her ears.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve cried watching anime. The end of the first Gunslinger Girl series made me tear up a little bit, the realization of the last story in Kino’s Journey wrung a few half-formed tears from my eye sockets, and each episode of Aria and nearly every one of Natsume Yuujinchou left me a blubbering mess unable to function. I’m far from an impenetrable, emotionless stone wall. Now with all that said, Saikano didn’t come close to making me cry. There are several reasons for this, which I’ll get to shortly.

On the cusp of war, two students named Chise ... and Shuji start dating. While they’re not particularly eager to progress their relationship or get to know each other, their feelings for each other eventually start to bud once the initial hesitation is moved past. However, all is not good in the hood. What starts out fairly ordinarily quickly takes a turn for the worse as war begins its slow climb up the Japanese islands, slowly creeping up to our ill-fated lovers. While this is going on, Chise is slowly modified into the only successful counter against the invading forces. As the series progresses, she becomes more and more inhuman and Shuji has to puzzle out whether he’s able to be with her through all that’s going on.

The first thing that’s noticeable is that the animation hasn’t aged well. It isn’t terrible or sloppy, but the colors look muted and washed out. It’s not anything to gripe about, but it bears the telltale mark of being made during that strange anime period that wasn’t particularly concerned with looking vibrant. Aesthetics aren’t the series’ strong suit, but they do the job well enough to not be a hindrance.

The second, much less forgivable thing that I noticed was that the voice acting is well below average. I was lucky to have both the dub and the sub available, and they had the exact opposite problems; the former had two well acted leads, but everyone else was too wooden to take seriously. The latter had fairly good acting across the board, with the glaring exception of Shuji, whose VA emotes with all the intensity and passion of somebody who accidentally dropped their toast butter-side down. The performance is rarely convincing for the majority of the series, creating the odd scenario where he’ll be lamenting something that he’d done to Chise, tears streaming down his anguished face, all the while saying everything in a depressed monotone.

Considering that a significant portion of the series focuses on his various dilemmas and emotional breakdowns, he ends up being the lead weight that brings the series down to mediocre levels. A good portion of the time, I found myself laughing at his delivery more than sympathizing with the emotions he was supposed to be expressing. It’s quite the shame, especially when everything else is fairly decent at its absolute worst.

Despite the garnish of encroaching war and death, it’s the romance between Chise and Shuji that’s the real meaty content. As far as romances go it’s pretty well done, balancing angst and tragedy with the occasional ray of hope to create a relationship that has realistic ups and downs given the situation that the two find themselves in. Yet, this isn’t enough to save it from its significant problems, namely the plot and the aforementioned horrid voice acting of Shuji.

The plot is a series of peaks and valleys, moving between effective soul crushing and dry dialogue with the flip of a hat. Particularly in the middle, it feels like too much of a drag to carry on. Ground is retread more than it should be and there’s a hiatus put on the focus between Shuji and Chise. Together, they’re a strong unit that carries the show. Apart, their struggles aren’t interesting enough to do the same and it simply becomes a slog. Even the growing number of deaths doesn’t spice things up; mostly because they’re incredibly predictable once you get a feel for the series’ formula.

It’s for these reasons and many smaller ones that Saikano didn’t make me cry. Hell, it didn’t even make me feel morose. It’s not for a lack of effort, since the series does all it can to make you care for these characters, and it does it with the same bravado and skill as some of the greatest emotion manipulators. Yet no matter how much effort it puts in, it’s a tragedy that’s simply unable to move me in its animated form. It proves that no matter how perfect the concept, the execution of each element is crucial to enjoyment.

Oddly enough, the last few episodes are probably one of the biggest turnarounds I’ve seen. The plot tightens up, the suspense is heightened, Chise’s declining humanity accelerates at a heartbreaking pace, and even Shuji’s emoting improves considerably. However, even a sharp increase in quality does little to make up for the middling quality of the rest of the show.

To summarize neatly, Saikano is a fantastic concept with a compellingly tragic relationship let down by a minute number of significant problems. From shoddy voice acting in important places to a dip in pacing around the middle, there are enough glaring flaws to make me hesitant to recommend it to anybody. I imagine if I read it in printed form it would be much easier to digest the way it was intended, but its success as an anime is arguable.

Ambition and personality can often build up the most impressive narratives, but they can’t sustain them for long without help. That… actually sums up my feelings on UN-GO pretty nicely. But this wouldn’t be much of a post if I just left it at that without giving my reasoning, so here’re the rest of my thoughts on UN-GO.

From the start, UN-GO was a series laden with problems. It had that curious noitaminA problem of trying to fit a tome’s worth of content (We’re talking around the length of The Stand) into a single cour, doing an admirable job at developing things until one final plotline ... threw all that careful planning out the window in order to wrap the series up in a characteristically unsatisfying way. While the last arc was wonderfully written and a far cry from wasp cyclones, I hardly felt attached to any of the events, something that points toward a decided failure.

Even though the length is its biggest handicap, it could have easily been worked around if the characters had personalities and conflicts to make the show interesting. Usagi Drop’s a perfect example of a show that did wonderful things with its restraints, even if it was adapted from, rather than based off of a previously established story. So while it could have been much longer and allowed us to immerse ourselves in the vaguely dystopic world of post-terrorist attack Japan, it had bigger issues with giving the audience a reason to form an attachment to the characters and conflicts presented.

Much like the rest of the world around him, we’re left watching from a distance as Shinjuurou reasons and deducts his way through the cases presented, and our attachment to him doesn’t grow any closer. Despite presenting various interesting cases (Including one involving previously illegalized androids and a murder case vaguely reminiscent of I, Robot), there’s hardly anything left to the imagination as the events are regaled with the help of Shinjuurou’s ever-present explanations. It’s not a hallmark of a great mystery series when everything is explained to you right away, leaving nothing to think about.

This issue persists for the entire series, but lets up just enough to let the second half, which could have been directed by the late great Satoshi Kon with how much it integrated the supernatural and the psychological into one strange amalgamation over the course of two arcs. It’s this second half that convinced me UN-GO had something up its sleeve, but just as I was getting engrossed it pulled me right out of the action in time to close up shop. And thus I came out of it unsatisfied and slightly bitter, wondering just what the hell happened.

Aside from the last two mysteries, nothing is really strong enough on its own, each disparate element clashing with another as I’m left with question after question regarding some issue that should have been resolved or at least brought up several episodes earlier. However, if there’s one area where UN-GO shines above its competition, it’s in setting the mood. Despite each case not being amazing on its own, it all adds up to a surprisingly fleshed out setting, painting the world of post-terrorist attack Japan as one that’s still recovering.

From the android boom several years earlier to a mysteriously banned wartime song, the elements that lead up to each of the show’s mysteries prove much more fascinating than the mysteries themselves. This mood is helped by stylized animation and a soundtrack that fits like a glove, making it by far one of the most fully realized settings that’s ever come about in an eleven episode series.

However, there were still several questions that I felt would be answered, but were instead only given knowing nods toward and never brought up again. What is Inga’s significance, aside from being a Get Out of Jail Free Card for Shinjuurou? Why the sudden bent toward the supernatural when the science fiction setting was being so deftly established? Why everything else?

My experience with UN-GO wasn’t always the best. There were some weeks, especially early on when the series was just finding its niche, where I wanted to drop it. Hell, I often scheduled it just after each weekly episode of Penguindrum so I’d be able to ride that high long enough to get through the drudgery of science fiction mysteries.

In the end, UN-GO was the best kind of failure. It tried to be something fresh and different and it very nearly succeeded at what it set out to do, even if none of the elements came together into anything spectacular. If it ran at around twice the length, it would have easily been one of the best shows of the year. Sadly, it was a high concept that was let down by too little room to work its magic in, and that’s how I’ll remember it: Not going out with a blaze of glory, but with a squelch that attempted class. I enjoyed it well enough, but it had way too many flaws for its own good.

There are some anime series that you desperately want to love. You’re either drawn in by the premise, one of the characters will strike your fancy for some reason and you’ll begin a furious Pixiv binge in search of any fanart of them to the point that your computer crashes and you’re declared legally dead, or you see some shimmer of pure gold underneath that thick sheen of shit and mediocrity and want to see if it’ll be more evident later on. The Idolmaster was one of the latter series, and it left me feeling entirely unsatisfied from start to finish.

The premise is simple enough: ... Twelve girls of questionable talent with single-note personalities and insecurities all vie for the chance to become idols with the help of their talent company and their ever-faithful producer. This single idea takes them all over Japan as their popularity inexplicably soars and they learn important things like trust, friendship, and synchronized dancing. Say what you will about the overall quality, it sticks to this premise throughout without ever losing the spirit of the idea. If you’re not in the market for a show all about the power of friendship or supposedly catchy pop music, there won’t be much for you here.

For me, the most important thing in any show is how the characters develop and interact. Something with a fantastic plot or great production won’t leave much of an impression if the characters don’t; see Madoka Magica. Unfortunately, this is the first and gravest misstep that the Idolmaster makes.

Though it really can’t be helped with such a large cast of main characters, there isn’t much gravity to how the characters develop or interact. One minute, soliloquies are dropped regarding what problems a certain character has on their rocky road to idol stardom, the next the plot tousles them on the head, tells them to move on with their lives, and it’s never brought up again. While I understand that everybody is supposed to develop, it still feels awkwardly crammed in when it shouldn’t be.

This would be acceptable if all of the characters were memorable in some way, but some quite simply shine over the many others, leading to some intimate moments feeling resolved much too quickly in order to get back to what the Idolmaster perceives to be the most important characters. Haruka and the Futami twins seem to take up the most time, leaving the likes of Azusa and Makoto in the background for all but a few scant moments when they could have been fleshed out and humanized much more.

These overly-sentimental bits are punctuated every so often by the meddling of a rival talent company, 961 Pro, led by the conniving Takao Kuroi, which essentially play out the same each time. While they’re a welcome distraction from the slew of halfhearted character developments, these scenes could have easily been left out without the series suffering in any way. Don’t get me wrong, these were the only episodes in which I believed that the 765 Pro girls would come out more mature and fleshed out in the end, but I acknowledge their overall pointlessness. They take away nothing from the experience, but they add very little in return.

Where the Idolmaster came closest to breaking out of mediocrity was in the last few episodes, as Haruka dealt with everyone’s newfound success and consequential estrangement. It’s well paced and actually competent, leading to a complete departure from the episodic format of before.

Story and character-wise, the Idolmaster falls a bit flat for me, even with the competently strung together drama in the final episodes. However, if there is one area where it shines, it’s definitely the production. The animation is crisp, the character designs are pleasing to the eye and soft by comparison, the dancing is wonderfully choreographed, the music could actually be confused for something thrown onto the market to be bought by thousands of impressionable Japanese teens and otaku of all sorts… in short, the Idolmaster went all out to bring the games to life, and that’s something to be admired.

Yet, for all the dazzling displays and occasional moments of interesting storytelling, the Idolmaster fails to be anything more than a flashy series that’s ultimately completely forgettable. Yet I can say without a shadow of a doubt that this is the best adaptation of the game series that anybody’s ever going to make. I tried to like the Idolmaster for what it was, and I did enjoy it every now and then, but overall it was a disappointing experience that I wouldn’t in good faith recommend.

With each of the five big carryover shows from the spring season either ending or have ended already, I feel it’s time to take a look back at the three that I could blog and do a nice, somewhat succinct review. However, with Nichijou being a slice of life comedy and thus impossible for me to sum up with anything other than “It had its moments, but the charm far outweighed the comedy factor” and me being more than a week late for a timely Tiger & Bunny review (Will get to at some point though), I’m stuck reviewing Hanasaku Iroha. Make no mistake though, ... it’s not as much of a chore as I’m making it out to be.

Hanasaku Iroha is a quintessential coming of age story that follows Ohana Matsumae, a self-centered girl sent to live with her grandmother after her ne’er-do-well mother Satsuki skips town with a man she hardly knows. Ohana heads off with lofty goals of living life like a storybook, a jaunty tune in her heart, and has the reality of staying at an inn crash down on her as soon as her stern grandmother tells her that she’s there as an employee.

The first two episodes establish the setting, and have every character hurling verbal abuse at Ohana like she murdered a truck full of puppies after robbing the terminal disease ward of her local hospital. However, as time goes on, she adjusts to the rigors of daily waitress life, and has every single character warm up to her and her surprisingly grating attitude.

Hanasaku Iroha is one of those shows that’s good, but has more than enough bad to touch on and bring to light. So it’s not a painful watch, and it’s relatively easy to review from both ends of the spectrum, it’s good fun to write about. Since the negative points are few, but important, I’m going to get the less important good points out of the way to maintain some sense of cohesion.

The first thing anybody will notice about this series is how crisp, smooth, yet natural the animation is. I don’t usually call much attention to animation, but this is seriously one gorgeous show throughout. The settings are vibrant and lively without feeling stilted and artificial, I haven’t seen a single character decay into a deformed blob for the sake of comedy (Except Ohana pouting, but even that had a sort of care about it), and nothing jarred me out of the experience. Of particular mention is the occasional shot of the Kissuiso at dawn or dusk that’s really some of the best use of a color pallet that I’ve seen. Even if the story was complete shit, the characters unlikable and all voiced by Chewbacca, I would still say this was worth a mention on animation/design alone.
Alas, an anime series can’t be propped up by animation alone. There has to be meat underneath the shiny veneer, substance that can really sucker the audience in. While HanaIro isn’t godly in terms of story or character development, it’s more than competent enough to make for an entertaining watch… at least in the second half.

While the first two episodes were marvelous at establishing all the various conflicts at the Kissuiso, it stopped to a grinding halt at Episode 3 onward for the sake of half-baked character subplots. Up until around Episode 11, when Ohana takes a trip back to Tokyo to kidnap her mother and bring her to the inn, the episodes just seemed like an excuse to introduce characters while not showing exactly where they fit into the plot. But then at around the halfway point, a miracle happened, which coincided with Ohana’s mother’s return from Plot Absence Hell—Hanasaku Iroha was good again. For the last half, it went strong until a surprisingly satisfying ending that did its best to wrap things up while not ending things on a definite note.

The characters are, for the most part, fairly well rounded. There are a few who don’t add much of anything, but most contribute to the plot in a significant fashion, and often end up likable despite their hang-ups. Satsuki and Sui, the grandmother, are still the best of the bunch, interacting with calm vitriol that’s difficult to not enjoy watching. Satsuki in particular develops with oddly noticeable subtlety, going from a free spirit who often neglected her daughter for the sake of her dreams, to a slightly less free spirit trying to live peacefully with her resentful daughter. While not many other characters get that level of development, kind of sad considering that Satsuki only had a few episodes of screen time, they’re nothing to decry.

However, one character has been constantly screwed out of anything meaningful, to the point that her existence has become that of an unnecessary counterbalance to the almost whimsical, yet callous Ohana. Minko is a shrill, unlikable, easily irritable bint with a noticeable hard-on for one of the main male characters… that for some reason causes her to shout at Ohana at every given opportunity. While it’s easy to pick up on the jealousy, it’s still a shame to have Minko go from a decent cook with no people skills to a slightly better cook with somehow even worse people skills. There wasn’t an episode where I didn’t want her to be taken out of the show altogether for being a living, breathing irritation.

One last complaint that I have is levied at Ohana’s half-assed relationship with her unknowing main squeeze back home, Ko. The two can just never seem to resolve their feelings for each other, and nothing comes of it at all. It’s a not so small complaint that could’ve been easily solved with a little more emphasis on meaningful interaction instead of having Ohana faffing about in Ko’s presence.

What Hanasaku Iroha succeeds best at is developing a sense of a familial, small inn, always bustling with life. You get a sense that the world could continue on without Ohana in it, but it feels that much richer for having her around. The Kissuiso is a quaint, warm location that sees its fair share of strife along the course of the series. This is what keeps it interesting, as long as it doesn’t descend into the repetitious routine of Minko yelling at Ohana for existing.

As can be gleaned from this, HanaIro isn’t perfect. In fact, it’s riddled with flaws that would keep it from being fantastic, even compared to the throngs of less able anime airing at this time. It’s a gorgeously animated, gorgeously fleshed out feel-good story that has competence enough to engage the audience in small doses. While it isn’t the best show of the year by any means (Though I’m tempted to nominate Satsuki as one of the best characters), I recommend it for anybody searching for something somewhat different and surprisingly tender.

At times a show will just grab you at the hip, pull you close for one hell of a tango, and let you go only when you begin clamoring for more. These are the shows that make the most impact on you, the likes of Serial Experiments Lain, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and for me, Aria the Animation/Natural/Origination. So after reading the first two chapters of the manga and watching the entirety of this, I can comfortably say that Ikoku Meiro no Croisee does not belong in this category at all. Rather than giving the tango of a lifetime, it lethargically has the audience lead, dragging ... its feet while begging for a brief reprieve so it can look at itself in the mirror.

Ikoku Meiro no Croisee is the newest slice of life series to grace the fruitful realm of manga-to-anime adaptations, centering on a young Japanese girl and her move to Paris to experience the culture. She moves in with Oscar and Claude, a lecherous old man and a blacksmith respectively, who help carry the struggling shopping district that they inhabit through means of sign making and drinking copious amounts of wine.

Yune laughs, she cries, she acts cute, and she takes up half of the show’s length with each and every one of these antics. So if you were expecting the culture shock to set in and bring to light several of the historical differences that make up the divide between French and Japanese cultures (So steep a divide that many Japanese visiting Paris suffer from adverse effects for a time), you will leave slightly disappointed. If you just want to see a 19th Century Japanese girl barely into the double digits frolic about, this is your kind of show, and I doubt any of the criticism I can levy against it will change that for you.

Many issues stand in her way as she attempts to settle into the Parisian lifestyle, including one of a bratty, blonde nature who seems just a little too enamored with her to have her fascination be called platonic. Early on, Claude sells a prized belonging of Yune’s without knowing how important it was, and vows to get it back. While this is occasionally touched on in later episodes, it’s hastily resolved in time for, you guessed it, more of Yune’s faffing about. And thus the collective IQ of the anime watching public goes down another 30 points.

If my slightly repetitious dance metaphor didn’t clue you in, IkoMeiro drags its feet quite a bit. It isn’t a story intensive show by any means, but there is still no discernable progress in the show’s run beyond the occasional nod toward a prior event. It isn’t a deal breaker, but at times getting through the series can be quite the slog. Many times, it seems more interested in primping itself than it does in putting on a good show.

Despite being occasionally touted as the next Aria, the similarities are very few, beyond taking place in a European-esque (Actually European in this) city. The characters are different, the “conflicts” are different, the tone and atmosphere are way different… suffice it to say, I just don’t see what the point of IkoMeiro is. Aria was an overly-sugary, optimistic love letter to everyday life that just happened to take place on a terraformed Mars. It had one of the most uplifting, soothing soundtracks I’ve ever heard, a deep appreciation for Venice, and very charming characters that get more than their fair share of screen time.

Ikoku Meiro no Croisee, on the other hand, doesn’t so much revel in its setting as it does loosely acknowledge it through half baked “Look how different Japan and France are!” montages that end up more groan-inducing than funny. I get that the audience is supposed to laugh at characters not using utensils correctly or misinterpreting various myths from the other side of the cultural fissure, but it’s all for naught, swiftly neglected to watch Yune prance around for half the episode or have Alice molest her at every given opportunity.

It may sound like I found these scenes to be absolutely abhorrent, but I just ended up not caring more times than outright thinking that the show could be better. It’s nothing terribly objectionable, but I wouldn’t laud IkoMeiro for it either. The episodes that center on Yune’s culture shock fall flat as a result, especially the one where she’s told not to talk to strangers. She runs in a panicked fury in an attempt to find her way back to Claude’s shop, ignoring the people who have been nothing but friendly to her in the past.

However, one thing I will praise it for is the occasional, subtle nod toward class differences at the time. The fashions, the meals, the more insular nature of the top crust of the Parisian citizenry, all of these are touched on at some point, proving that the wealthy of the time had their own urgent sort of problems to deal with. While it isn’t dwelled on, it’s made well known that money hasn’t bought the children of the rich happiness in any way. Yet, rather than cast pity on them, the series opts to show them in their daily life to be normal people, not so different from the common folk.
The characters are nothing special, Claude being your standard jerk with a heart of gold and Yune assuming the role of poster child of both the smithy and the show. Alice and Oscar are given their fair share of screen time, but all of them pale in comparison to Yune. None of them are particularly interesting, but the relationship between Alice and Yune is quite the treat at times.

Ugh… what else… The city is well animated, I suppose, but it comes across as more of a lifeless prop than a living, breathing city. The music is alright, the character designs are certainly distinctive and almost storybook-like… I think that’s all I can say.

When taking into consideration whether you’ll enjoy this, ask yourself what drew you in: The vague plot synopsis, peer recommendations, or that cute girl in the kimono that everyone keeps raving about. The people in the third camp are much more likely to sit through it than those in the first two. With that said, despite my criticism, I had no problem watching Ikoku Meiro no Croisee. It’s enjoyable, relaxing fluff I likely won’t remember much a year from now, but sometimes that’s all a show needs to do in order to be enjoyed.

With its dark, relatively limited pallet, quirky characters, and time travel plot, this anime has gained the attention of many of those following the past two anime seasons. That anime is, if the title is as much an indication as I intended, Steins;Gate.

What started as a strange, oddly slice of life-like scifi series centering on a college student “Mad Scientisto” named Okabe Rintarou and his crew of eccentric friends and associates quickly took a turn for the dramatic with the introduction of a means to send thoughts to the past, which caught the eye of evil research organization SERN. Since that point, Steins;Gate really ... grabbed the aniblogosphere and proceeded to hold on for dear life. And by that, I mean it was really fucking awesome, leading up to a suspenseful, satisfying finale.

Based off a visual novel of the same name, Steins;Gate has a rather intrinsic, yet layered plot that provides a beguiling narrative supported by a surprisingly strong cast of characters. Helming the varied cast is none other than Okabe himself, one of the best characters to grace anime in a long time. An eccentric at heart who at first does crazy stuff just because he assumes it’s what mad scientists do, as the events of the succeeding episodes unfold, he’s pulled further and further into a psychosis that begins to actually take form against his will. Hell, I could (and probably will at some point) write a post detailing how I think his mental decay is one of the best displays of character development of the season.

Helping Okabe in his mad scientisto exploits is the tsundere, closeted 2channeler Kurisu, Mayuri, the prerequisite ditzy moeblob and Daru, the quintessential otaku. There is also Okabe’s landlord Mr. Braun, shrine maiden Ruka, and unbelievably shy tall girl Moeka. As the events of the episodes unfold and Okabe tests his time travel inventions more and more, the timeline is altered to such an extent that Okabe inadvertently gets himself into trouble with various shady organizations who want in on his secrets.

As it goes for the best of two cour series, developments are unveiled slowly and deliberately over time, allowing for maximum understanding and immersion in the setting while appreciation for the characters grows in direct proportion. The first half is entirely dedicated to subtle changes in the plot, driving things forward at a slow enough pace for the audience to take in the character interactions and the way their surroundings impact them. I wouldn’t call it masterful, but the setup is good, even if it focuses too much on inconsequential side characters and concepts at times.

At around the halfway point,one of the main characters is killed off repeatedly (And often hilariously), and Okabe ‘time leaps’ back to the past again and again in an effort to save her. However, despite his efforts it seems that she’s preordained to die at a certain time unless the timeline is reverted to before Okabe started messing with it. While these episodes are good enough that you don’t really notice it, a few could’ve been omitted without losing the impact, and the requisite nods to the other arcs on the visual novel are somewhat sloppy. Thankfully it gets back on track for a very strong finish, where Steins;Gate solidifies itself as one of the best series of the year by far.

The animation, while nothing exemplary, gets the job done well enough, and I have very few problems with it aside from oddly placed bloom in the cities and a general pervading darkness throughout that makes screencaps somewhat annoying.

If you’re looking for something to pass the time, you could do far worse. Hell, I’d go as far to say that this is the best visual novel adaptation of the year, and one of the best ever. The plot works out well for the most part without focusing on unnecessary side arcs, and it feels less like an advertisement for the VN than it does an excellent enough standalone plot. Definitely recommended for any of those with discriminating taste who can stomach occasionally trite relationships and a silly plot.

With the announcement of a second series, Last Exile has joined the echelon of misleading titles hinting at no other entry in their respective franchises. This category, primarily encompassing the Final Fantasy series, is the subject of many jokes along the lines of “Durr hurr, why do they call it Final (Last, in this case), when they’re making another one?”

On that note, there is no joke in Last Exile. It’s a straightforward fantasy steampunk adventure that ranks as one of Gonzo’s finest efforts. The CG is incredible and still holds up eight years later, the plot is well done if not completely original, and ... the characters are relatable without being outright pandering.

Despite the criticism that I’m about to lay on thick against it, Last Exile is a very competent, beautiful show that needs more recognition. However, it’s far from perfect and despite its overall high quality most likely won’t make it on anybody’s favorites list for any number of reasons.

The biggest and most glaring flaw is ironically also the aspect which it succeeds best at: Painting a colorful setting. The world of Last Exile is one where the futuristic meets the antiquated, where airships playing host to regiments of musketeers battle it out in the skies like ships on the sea.

The planet’s surface is somewhat arid, due to the limited water supplies, which are doled out sparingly by the Guild and those in power to the common folk.

Outfits are as befitting the early 19th Century as the warfare: Drab yet practical wear for the commoners, vibrant garb for the rich, and flowing majestic robes for the Guild that rules all from the skies. Best of all, the manliest of men all have impeccable facial hair, worthy of respect even in this enlightened day and age.

The sensory details are sublime, but it’s the big picture that fails to really entrance. Most of this is made up for later on, but by then there’s too much activity happening to really allow the world building to shine.

While this is fine and actually preferable in some cases (Learning about the Guild’s coming of age practices and what exactly Exile is), it goes more than halfway before elaborating beyond “They’re just fighting, okay?” on the conflict between the two warring empires of Anatare and Disith. By the time this is made known, it’s too little too late and it just feels like a lost opportunity for some real immersion.

The plot itself moves along at a good clip for most of the series, only really slowing down during one of the protracted air battles at around the halfway point. The story concerns itself with Claus and Lavi, two orphaned longtime friends whose days are spent doing deliveries and participating in races using their fathers’ vanship; essentially a tricked out trashcan modeled after World War II era dogfighters.

During a race one day, the two narrowly avoid getting hit by a crashing vanship and move to investigate the wreckage. While there, they discover a pilot tasked with the delivery of a little girl to the notorious pirate ship Sylvana. In his dying breath he entrusts the two of them with his delivery, which holds a reasonably high danger rating. In the process of bringing the girl, named Alvis, to the ship, the two are assailed by guild attack craft, affectionately dubbed Starfish for obvious reasons and are forced to seek refuge aboard at the mercy of the captain and his morally questionable crew of renegades.

For the first ten episodes, I had great trouble attempting to stop watching. The characters (Especially those aboard the Sylvana) were fun if not all that deep, the skirmishes and races were harrowing, and the general pacing was fantastic. However, it was around episode 12 where my interest started to fizzle out. It was good and certainly watchable, but compared to prior events which involved a satisfying airship duel against a cowardly noble and a suspenseful escape from a rigged auction for the captain, yet another airship battle felt contrived.

My interest was piqued again afterward so everything was just peachy, until the satisfying, if slightly rushed, ending.

The cast of characters in Last Exile is vibrant, to say the least. Alvis is a surprisingly tolerable girl with a sickly sweet disposition, the crew of the Sylvana are generous cutthroats of the most honest kind, and Claus’ Guild-aligned rival Dio is an intimidating foe who definitely feels more than a little unhinged and overly affectionate. None feel out of place, and all contribute in some way to the plot that endears them.
Despite my praise for the varied cast of characters, it doesn’t feel like they get any real development; the only one who comes close is subsequently brainwashed. Stuff just happens, and it doesn’t feel like anybody learns from it in the end. Oh sure, there’s the prickly noblewoman who’s humbled by the feats of her crewmates, but nothing is done past that to change her.

As far as the animation and art direction goes, it’s the equivalent of a fine portrait with a few chips in the paint. The excellent CG, breathtaking environs, and distinctive character models are marred by the occasional bout of laziness. There was more than one occasion when I found myself glancing at somebody talking at a medium distance from the camera, and their eyes looked like Picasso lost his motor skills. It was only a few times, but it took me out of the experience too much not to mark down.

Since all my criticisms have come to a close, I’d normally end a review here with some parting thoughts and a brief summary. However, no matter where I looked, I was forced to watch this dubbed for the latter half. The dubbing in Last Exile is good, if not great. While it has more vocal variety than the original Japanese track, there isn’t nearly as much feeling in the performances. However, the voice actor for Dio, Joshua Seth, deserves special recognition for using this trait of the dub to his advantage.

He doesn’t sound quite as passionate as his Japanese counterpart, but his voice fits Dio a bit better. While his Japanese VA made him sound like an overgrown and excitable manchild, Joshua made him sound crazy, but just as youthful. While I prefer the original Japanese overall, the English isn’t bad, and it isn’t an ordeal to listen to it.

Finally, the soundtrack is superb and definitely evocative of the series as a whole. Special mention goes to the opening, which was a nice electronica piece with a dash of world music thrown in that sounded ethereal.

My complaints for Last Exile are minor and borderline inconsequential. There wasn’t a single problem that ruined it for me, but a lot of small niggling flaws reared their heads more times than I was comfortable with. For this reason alone, I won’t call it anything but good. I recommend it for a delightful romp in a unique fantasy world with a few emotional twists and turns along the way, but not as something that absolutely must be seen.

If there is any show that defines wasted potential, it’s B Gata H Kei. What started as a possible lighthearted gender flipped rendition of School Days ended up a pedestrian school comedy that was only saved by a somewhat fresh sense of humor and constant victimization of the lead and her love interest.

Our story follows Yamada, first name conspicuously absent throughout the whole affair, on her quest to have sex with one hundred males by the end of high school. Everything seems in the bag for her: She’s beautiful, smart; every guy in school wants her. The problem is, she’s too self conscious about ... her lady bits to make a move.

So rather than aiming for somebody with sexual experience, she ends up starting with the lowest rung in class that she can imagine: A random boy she finds in a bookstore who looks as average and virgin-like as possible named Kosuda. And thus starts a series of blunders in a quest to get him to have sex with her, while only paying lip service to her goal stated early on.

Helping her on her way is Yamada’s own Ero-God, a chibi-fied character resembling her in every way that has a swarthy moustache. The problem is, due to Yamada’s impulsive waffling, Ero-God does much more berating than assisting or praising.

On the way, opposition is offered from Kosuda’s introverted and painfully clumsy childhood friend, and the standard exchange student who wants nothing more than to crush Yamada for besting her in a beauty contest. Romantic hijinks ensue, sex nearly happens more than once, and more than a few bones end up broken as a result of Yamada’s own cluelessness.

First, let’s get the good points out of the way. Yamada is the best example of a horny ecchi male lead in a woman’s body. Except rather than taking the Maria Holic route of making her fantasize for half the damn episode, Yamada’s actually proactive enough to seek sex on her own, even if she’s too scared to see it through ‘til the end.

That can hardly be faulted against her though, with her endeavoring to screw a hundred guys by the end of her high school career without having even been in a relationship before. The tsundere pretense that she puts up helps to characterize her as somebody who has faith in her attractiveness, but not necessarily her ability to deal with the opposite sex in a lustful way.

While I wouldn’t call the comedy exceptionally unique and stellar, it’s well implemented enough to make up for the many faults that plague the series throughout. While Kosuda isn’t anybody with a vibrant personality, he does well in representing sexually frustrated, yet cautious youth. He doesn’t act like he’s above having sex, yet he isn’t fully comfortable with it either, creating a believable sense of awkwardness. Strangely enough, by the end he becomes the most endearing character, putting up with the harmful antics of Yamada much more than would be thought humanly possible.

Together, the two form the perfect combination: Both have implacable sex drives, no experience in relieving their libidos, and interest in the other that gets muddled amidst the endless moments of miscommunication that occur. It’s surprisingly deep, surprisingly realistic characterization that isn’t common in any media, and that’s a treat in itself.

However, even with that praise, I’d hesitate to call this a great, or even a good anime. Picture any sort of environment for your standard dull romantic comedy (Beach, forest, school), and B Gata H Kei goes there. It can be argued that this is subversion, but it stands that Yamada and Kosuda do everything that couples do in these kinds of anime, and many of the same jokes are used, albeit with less focus on the male’s point of view.

Everything that isn’t related to the two main characters is painfully ordinary. The animation is average at best, the soundtrack is mostly the same, and the plot consistently derails itself for the sake of character development. I wouldn’t say this is a bad thing, but it’s all about expectations. I came in expecting a show about a girl who wanted to have sex with a bevy of males by the end of her senior year, not her struggling to woo just one.

In an unexpected turn of events, a powerful message is brought to light: A satisfying romance can be had without sex early on. The two could only accept each other in a carnal fashion once they were sure that the other would reciprocate in kind, and would give back with feeling. These are two people insecure with themselves, only secure in the knowledge that the other isn’t confident sexually.

In the end though, it’s only the characters that changed in the school comedy setup, not the actions. The characters went through the motions until the very end, when their feelings were fully realized and ready to be unleashed in a wave of passion. It’s almost frustrating to watch before this, seeing Yamada screw up in her seduction and Kosuda struggle in understanding why she acts like she does.

I mentioned missed potential earlier, and B Gata H Kei had it. What could’ve been a decent look into the mind of a sexually aware yet totally clueless girl on a quest to fully realize herself on a primeval level degenerated quickly into what I mentioned above: A typical comedy that’s only saved by the surprisingly interesting and fleshed out, if not terribly original characters.

I understand that this was to appeal to a broader audience, but there’s a demerit if I ever saw one for completely screwing over what could’ve been the intriguing execution of a rare premise.

B Gata H Kei is perfectly fine, and is a hell of a lot more memorable than many similar series out there. Oddly enough, it’s probably one of the more realistic depictions of romance in anime, and just how awkward it really is when communicated improperly. If you can get past the false premise, occasionally boring episode plots and standard… well, everything else, B Gata H Kei has plenty to offer on a level of greater depth than you’d think. Just don’t expect to be blown away.

The move from that of a televised anime series to an OAV format did its fair share of good for the crew of Black Lagoon. By allowing them to work without worrying about censorship, they could get the violence as visceral and hyper-sexualized as possible and create a no holds bar bloodfest the likes of which anime has rarely had before. Going into this, it should be perfectly evident from the name what you’re in for: A tale of carnage caused by everyone’s favorite former guerilla warfare enthusiast maid, Roberta. And boy does it deliver.

Our tale starts with a public bombing orchestrated by a contracted ... group of US Marines killing the head of the Lovelace family in Venezuela, leaving the family heir Garcia orphaned and under the care of his maids. At this point, we also learn of Roberta’s career prior to her joining the Lovelace family as a maid, where she was a revolutionary in a group that ruthlessly killed anyone that got in their way.
After the marines kill the head of the family, Roberta goes to Roanapur for revenge in what is easily the most entertaining OAV series to come out in recent memory.

Roberta’s Blood Trail follows the titular supersoldier maid on her quest for vengeance, involving everyone in Roanapur and several outside forces in a drug fueled battle that could escalate in an all out war to end all that Roanapur is. It’s not a complex story that’ll shake the very foundation of storytelling, but it has its fair share of intrigue, particularly with Rock participating and running the course of actions from the sidelines. Revy and co take a back seat to Roberta as far as plot focus go, and it ends up all the better for doing so.

If this OAV does have a weakness, and it has plenty of noticeable ones, it’s the constant shifts in perspective between the groups going after Roberta and Roberta herself. For two episodes, this creates a narrative that’s spread extremely thin, developing nobody and raising more questions than are answered. You have Roberta on her own, the marines and drug trafficking forces hounding her, Revy and the group of psychopathic mercenaries that she contracts to help her, Garcia and Fabiola on a mission to bring her back with them, Rock scheming while occasionally contacting Mr. Chang and berating him with passive aggressive language, Balalaika and her cohorts…

If you think that’s a long list, that’s because it is, and it gets hard to follow in some parts. Everything gets resolved, but many of the factions seemingly drop off before being brought into the game again just to be eviscerated by either Roberta or Revy and her group.

Even with Roberta as the main character, there’s effort made to characterize some of the bit players a bit more, which in the end does more harm than good. Roberta’s given plenty of time to develop, and that time is relished completely due to the utter insanity of Roberta (Even almost killing her master in a hallucinogen induced hysteria) being an utter treat to watch. However, it’s when they begin to delve into Fabiola’s hypocritical stance against unnecessary violence and Rock’s slow transition from victim to influential figurehead for Roanapur that the cracks start to form and widen.

In a story with such a large number of groups, you’d expect a lot of memorable faces to make appearances. And fortunately, you’re entirely correct. The only three noteworthy survivors of the manhunt for Jane are along for the ride (Za Uizaado, Shenhua, and Sawyer), Balalaika and her crack team join in on the hunt for Roberta, and Garcia is back from Season One to bring Roberta back. Even Eda the corrupt nun is along for the ride, reporting to her higher up as events unfold.

It’s a colorful cast that’s a delight to watch as they shoot, impale, slice, and run their way through Roanapur’s back alleys and slums to find the berserker maid. Even if none are characterized exceptionally well, they lay their parts well as far as entertainment and badassery go.

Black Lagoon has never been one to make a point, but has never been afraid to give the otherwise gleefully murderous cast the occasional moment of somber introspection. It’s these slow moments that really let the gravity of the situation sink in, from Revy’s monologuing about her past on the sunken sub in the first season to Fabiola arguing with her over her corrupt ways.

Even Roberta occasionally takes a break from her rampage to reflect on the ramifications of what she’s doing, or just how her past has caught up with her.

Despite how much they add to the series, I don’t think that these moments are always implemented properly. Very often they’ll follow an intense, engaging fight where the characters won’t even have a moment to clean off the blood that has sullied their outfits. It’s not much of a gamebreaker by any means, but in a show that’s almost fetishistic with the level of action that it uses, it can seem a bit out of place most times.

The only ones that ever really feel appropriate are when Fabiola and Revy butt heads over each others’ personalities. The two have a volatile chemistry that makes their anger fueled arguments a marvel to behold. What’s even better is these escalate each time as they learn that the other isn’t going to budge in their stance.

On the animation front, Black Lagoon’s always been a step above average. The environments always look lush yet sinister, helped by fantastic lighting and keeping things from remaining completely static. The characters are rarely off model and are animated very fluidly. It helps that the violence is done very smoothly, making the bloodbaths that give the fights life even more enjoyable than they would be if done even just a little more poorly.

Being an OAV and thus having a larger budget, things are done to even better effect. With the lack of censorship helping things out even more, the team finds itself able to do stunts with viscera of multiple varieties that would make even the most avid horror fan give pause.

The music is a hard bumping, hard thumping soundtrack of electronica and hard rock, each episode opening with a remix of the delightfully Engrish Red Fraction by MELL and each episode ending with an orchestra version of Johnny Comes Marching Home, pumping you up for the next episode of blood and butchery. The seiyuu cast is appropriate, well rounded, and excellent in almost every case, special mention going to Roberta and Lotton “Za Uizaado”.

The best, or least fortunate part depending on your tolerance for it, is the distinct lack of groan-worthy Engrish. It was amusing in Second Barrage, but ultimately came across as too clumsy to take seriously. By eliminating that entirely, Roberta’s Blood Trail lent itself an air of somberness that Second Barrage ultimately failed to attain in the last arc.

Black Lagoon: Roberta’s Blood Trail is a competent, compelling, and superbly well coordinated OAV that does much to impress. It has plenty of flaws, particularly in the middle with all the different groups after Roberta and the violence never catching a break, but it ends on a very satisfying, open ended note that leaves enough room for more seedy goodness in a possible sequel.
If you like action series or have watched and enjoyed Black Lagoon before, Roberta’s Blood trail will be right up your alley. If not, as long as you have no objection to sexualization and violence in overwhelming amounts, Roberta’s Blood Trail will be well worth your time.

Of course some prior knowledge through the anime or manga will be beneficial to enjoying it, but I think the idea of a Terminator-esque maid making mincemeat of an entire town of criminals is an interesting enough premise on its own.

It’s a fun, occasionally nauseating watch with more than a little wit helming it, and I for one enjoyed nearly every second of it. And if you’re anything like me, you will too.