Tokyo Magnitude is the antithesis of most modern anime: sedate, unglossy and resolutely contained within the present time period. A premise concerning the terrifyingly plausible event of a high magnitude earthquake in urban Tokyo, it follows the journey of a young brother and sister - Yuuki and Mirai - and their chance meeting with courier Mari; miles from home this is their quest to reach their respective families. A bildungsroman veiled as a disaster series, the protagonist Mirai is taken from bratty and misanthropic to tolerating and finally, embracing.
beyond mediocrity - it transforms the blandly coloured drama into an emotive barrage
It would have been easy for the series to cast a bleak and unforgiving picture of humanity during a time of strife, but whether through slavish optimism or a cultural stubbornness, this is a story about people: at its best when meandering. The cast collides with friend and stranger alike, chance meetings that rarely last more than an episode but carefully craft and evolve Mirai's character from the bluntly cynical figure she starts out as. It is this endorsement of mankind which creates a rare empathy with nearly everyone introduced from the tirelessly working old man who lost his grandchildren to one of Mirai's classmates, bereaved by the loss of a parent. It is also this which enforces the near glacial pace that is the series biggest weakness.
There are many good panty episodes in anime: episode four of Mai-HiME springs to mind as one, episode three of Yoku wakaru gendai mahou is not. Whereas the former had comic timing well beyond what one would have expected its studio to be able to produce, the latter is tawdry, boring tripe and is just the crowning achievement of an another muddled and bland instalment in the chicks-with-sticks and magic genre.
arcane magic of the hand-waving, runic variety and the "modern" magic of binary and cellphones
The series opens strongly with a battle against a sharply dressed wizard by two small girls who promptly get pummelled; rewinding six hours, the viewer is then treated to the first (and likely not the last) exposure of a criminally underage girl's posterior - while being chased by the impossibly sedate antagonist and engaging in some cryptic dialogue with other notable cast members. The public display of flesh is uncomfortable viewing, not only for the implied age of the participant but the futility of its inclusion - lacking any development of characters or story, it borders on pornography. From this low starting point, the first three episodes stumble haphazardly around like a late-night drunkard: first episode events are neither explained or explored and it's only upon reflection that the upcoming twist is made obvious. Elsewhere, characters who were no more than bystanders are now learning magic with the protagonist while incidents are nothing more than contrivances for character collisions. All of this set to a constant barrage of camera angles designed to place the poorly drawn breasts of the more well endowed females front-and-centre.
So how are we going to follow Higurashi? We can't diverge too much from the formula otherwise people won't like it! What about if we set it on an island? And use a bunch of aristocrats instead of teenagers! We'll have to have some annoying teenagers in there somewhere. And a creepy child! But keeping with the murder theme? We'll use a witch this time, totally different from the demon we had scuttling about in Higurashi...
her insistence on emitting an infuriating noise at the slightest provocation
And so the first three episodes of Umineko naku koro ni unfold in a similar but no less enticing way than its predecessor, Higurashi no naku koro ni. Building on the success of its forerunner, Umineko continues the same malevolent and supernatural atmosphere while subtly twisting it into its own beast. With nary a reset in sight, the nouveau rich are bumped off with surprising speed until only a select few are left to solve the mystery of whether a witch is to blame (similar in nature to when wizards do it) or whether one of their own is taking up finger painting with other people's blood. The switch from a remote village to a closed-off island serves the same isolating purpose but opens up the alluring possibility of using the island itself as an antagonist rather than simply letting the box of scorpions scenario play out; likewise the shift from village dwellers to an affluent family keeps the paranoia and tension running thick. Indeed, the story revealed in the first episodes of Umineko is just as captivating as the first arc of Higurashi.
The opening says all it needs to about the first three episodes of Needless: loud, brash, and utter nonsense. The plot, flimsy as it is, concerns a nefarious corporation called "Simeon" who are brazenly chopping up the "Needless": a group of super powered twits cluttering up the Japanese post World War 3 landscape. One of these happens to be the sister of a small, annoying child who is saved by an outlandishly dressed, wood carving of a man known as "Blade". From there all semblance of continuity is lost and the episodes devolve into poorly animated fights with contenders announcing their attacks after which the names are emblazoned on screen, usually with flames coming off them.
While ludicrously oddball, the characters are stripped of any kind of detail or nuance
To call Needless silly would be doing it an injustice: it is so outwardly ridiculous that at times it feels like it's trying to be po-faced serious but failing miserably. The cast balloons outward to incorporate a number of noisy and paper-thin characters including: a scantily dressed brawler with a penchant for changing people's names and whose breasts are unsure of what shape or consistency to take; and a short-on words antagonist that has a collar so freakishly huge that one could hang glide with it. The character designs are fresh up to a point - obviously there are mixes of other similar characters, Blade for instance has a healthy dose of Vash the Stampede mixed in with some generic masculinity from the likes of Heat Guy J or Fist of the North Star. Unfortunately they are entirely wasted when given such protracted and atrocious dialogue that it becomes painful to listen, exacerbated by the typical shounen budget-saver of extending every scrap of action with an ongoing diatribe by each character on the vagaries of their fighting style.
First episode event for Sora no manimani: tiny girl throwing golden stars like confetti from the school roof and proclaiming the existence of the astronomy club to all who have gathered below. As with so many first episode events, this dose of concentrated lunacy is quickly forgotten and its impact on the story only goes as far as introducing the fire-cracker Mihoshi to the more grounded Saku - reunited after an extended separation.
it's difficult to believe he's not the victim of a personality bypass operation
All of this has been roadtested before of course, neither the situation nor the character archetypes are anything new, Sora no manimani's mark is made in sporadically excellent comedy timing. Sharp cuts give enough momentum to keep the three opening episodes going, but each one quickly becomes a saga of different situations and storylines that it's almost a relief when the jaunty, lilting credits fade in. The hook for this series is the Astronomy club, and following such shows as the recent K-ON and more historically Genshiken, the first storyline involves coercing enough members to join to remain a club. Saku is emotionally bullied into it while the token infatuated love interest is next; like Genshiken this club also houses a gaunt, malnourished president - enigmatic only through their absence - his role being more to provide the occasional gag, to pad out the numbers and otherwise get out of the way. There is something very familiar and inoffensive about the entire set up.
