There's definitely a space between "High" and "School" so why High School of the Dead dropped it for the canonical abbreviation H.O.T.D. is unknown but this is just one of many oddities the first three episodes of the zombies-invade-Japan series contains. It plunders recent genre movies with gay abandon but still feels unique; it lays on the gratuitous - blood, breasts and banter - but never feels protracted or beyond the pale; it has a punk rock opening and ending themes but steers clear of banshee-strangling or ALI PROJECT dirge. What the series so ably does is nail the necessities and leave everything else to sort themselves out: characters are stereotypical and bland, the storyline hackneyed, but damned if it doesn't fire full bore with the action while keeping the pace quick and letting the tension build.

It is another uneventful day at Fumiji High School: Takashi is loafing about, Saya is berating him, Rei is in class, and no one has any idea of the apocalypse unfolding around them. A single zombie inadvertently bites and kills a teacher at the school gate and from there, panic and terror spread until the entire school is either the walking dead or in hiding. Takashi and Rei meet up with other survivors including the kendo club's champion, a firearms enthusiast and the ditsy school nurse; together they manage to procure a bus and escape from the school, but with the city in ruins and discontent brewing in the group there is the important question of whether they will ever see their families again. If they want to survive they'll need to put aside whatever quibbles they have with each other and find a way to exist in the now ruined world.

If it wasn't clear from the opening eyecatches, the series delights in the racy art form of bouncing breasts: only buxom ladies and dependable gentlemen are able to survive the zombie onslaught, the former replete with all manner of compromising situations and camera angles and the most curvaceous even come with their own comedic bouncing sound effects. It would be distracting were it not completely in-line with the balls-to-the-wall bedlam and copious gore that splatters each episode. The meatiest of blows are tastefully cut away from only for the nearest surface to be sprayed in crimson, moving the impact from cheesy schlock horror to something far more visceral and affecting. The carnage, combat and cleavage blend together into a heady cocktail that stimulates all the right areas of the lizard brain, pure entertainment without the pretension.

Brilliant then that Madhouse have been thrown headlong into the production with what are evidently very comfortable coffers to fund them. The opening episodes juxtapose the viciousness inside the boxy, angular school with the soft and gentle fall of cherry blossoms outside it, gentle sunsets and the inky wash of twilight give the series a glossy sheen that is difficult not to fall in love with. Greater still is the animation which keeps pace with the action where lesser budgets would have panicked and fallen flat; the grace of Saeko to the chaotic swings of Takashi are gloriously captured and though the third episode shows a slight downturn in fidelity, the likelihood of the survivors switching to firearms rather than makeshift cudgels means hand-to-hand combat will no longer be a priority.

To talk of fan service and aesthetics rather than character development or story consistency is to get to the heart of High School of the Dead. It is all flash and pomp and doesn't concern itself with the lore and implications its progenitors have lain down, instead it capitalises on what makes a zombie holocaust so much fun to watch and instead of attempting to switch up the formula it simply executes it supremely well. The remaining episodes will likely draw on familiar situations, the box of scorpions introduced with the snide and devious teacher is bound to end badly for at least one character, but the short run lessens the chance of the series stumbling and losing the pace it relies on to keep it entertaining. This is not high drama or gifted with deep insight and the series may yet end unsatisfyingly, but for now it is a remarkably enjoyable, pulpy, sometimes guilty, pleasure.