Darling of the erudites and intellectuals, Mawaru Penguindrum is a series quite unlike any other. A visual and cerebral feast, it explores the ideas of fate, of families and, as the title would suggest, penguins. Its allegories and layers however are unfortunately but an enticing mask for a flaky and unsatisfying story beneath. Morsels of exposition are stingily doled out when not being secreted away behind monologues or incongruous character histories.
there is thought and care applied to every scene and word, and it poses complex and interpretive questions
By and large those back stories all boil down to child abuse, meted out by deranged parents. Parental sins visited upon their children is a theme that underscores each of the main characters and, perhaps because of that, every one of them is utterly reprehensible. Doing away with any chance of empathy, the spectrum runs from simpering do-gooder to austere ice-queen but results with a cast that is hard to like, but unique enough making them hard to hate.
There is no way of reviewing humour. It's always personal and at the mercy of such fickleness as "I wasn't in the mood". Enough then to say that Baka Test is my kind of humour; the kind where the jokes are obvious from the setup but the punchline is so much more over-the-top than expected. The kind where the minute-to-minute plot is irrelevant as long as the laughs keep on coming. The kind where with all the rules established, it's just a case of exploiting the environment.
laugh along at the absurdity, embrace the archetypes and accept the obvious but still giggle at the outcome
I called the first series a "thigh-slappingly hilarious comedy" and the second is no different, primarily because there is nothing new here. No great switch-ups or new characters only more of the same but tweaked and intensified. The reliance upon Hideyoshi's effeminate appearance is dialled down and tertiary characters such as Akihisa's and Minami's siblings are sidelined for a greater focus on the core love triangle. It's here it's at its weakest with a lengthy foray into Minami's move from Germany and then a confession that leads to confusion that leads to drama that eventually leads to a reset. Lacklustre and bereft of the sharp eye that makes the comedy so great, it's dead weight when compared with the homosexual overtures from Miharu and Toshimitsu that manage to be more genuine despite being played for laughs.
Usagi Drop proves that good characters and a solid story never go out of fashion. It divorces itself from so many anime tropes - big eyes, sparkles, eyecatches - that it seems hard to understand why it was animated in the first place. With both the time-spanning manga and feature film recently released, like Kimi ni Todoke, you can now pick your particular brand of drama. But as the curtain closes on the final episode, it's obvious that without the watercolour palette, Rin's sparrow smile and the abstract perfection of animation, the series could only be half as charming and half as endearing.
it's just endlessly satisfying to have a story that doesn't stupefy, that deals in characters rather than archetypes
The story cheats somewhat by placing Rin as a cogent six year-old rather than a bratty teenager or howling babe, either end of that spectrum and moments such as losing one's first teeth, or going to school for the first time are lost and replaced by times far less adorable. Similarly Rin's demeanour as a mature proto-maid and Daikichi's chronic sensibility smooths over a lot of the abrasiveness that adopting a growing child would entail. Like all good stories though, it is brevity that keeps the story tight. Eleven episodes means omissions and dangling threads are many, but crucially these do nothing to alter the warmth at the heart of the series.
A definitive list of things wrong with Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood: the second half doesn't focus on the Elric brothers enough, the opening episodes move too quickly for newcomers, some of the episode cliffhangers feel forced, the cities are unimaginatively named. With those out of the way, all that's left to say is that this is probably one of the finest, most unspeakably brilliant series to have ever been produced. Flaws are present but they are insignificant in comparison to the wealth of overriding positives - every element is sublimely constructed whether that's the story, characters or animation and for once a series has the budget and creative clout to thoroughly trounce all but the most high-profile productions. It may not be perfect, but it is the closest that any series or movie has yet reached and it transcends its media to achieve something extraordinarily special.
their hubris ultimately dooms them but it is humans and their power that defeats them
Edward and Alphonse Elric are alchemists, gifted from a young age they are the youngest to have ever joined the state military. Their past however is far from blessed, the death of their mother and their subsequent handling was not without its consequences, for one Ed lost both an arm and a leg, now replaced with prosthetic "auto-mail". Al on the other hand lost his entire body, he is now soul-bound to a suit of armour - able to move and talk but not eat, sleep or feel the touch of another. Together they are on a quest to regain their bodies, but dark forces are stirring and their foes - both human and alchemy borne - are many. Their friends are equally numerous though, and with the help of people like Mustang, the flame alchemist, their old teacher Izumi and their childhood friend Winry, they could well triumph over such world-encompassing adversity.
Yojouhan Shinwa Taikei is a reminder of just how thrilling a series can be when it dares to be different. Underneath the speed talking protagonist and the eyeball LSD art-style is a current of enthusiasm that is positively infectious; it toys with narrative, characters, aesthetics and music in such a playful and endearing way that before long it doesn't matter if the series fits together all the pieces, the energy and cast are enough to carry it through. That it does tie together all the story threads in a way that is achingly brilliant is just another reason to fall completely and utterly in love. Unpretentious, endlessly enjoyable and supremely satisfying, this is a series whose execution and limitless creativity is only the tip of something sublime.
there are precise clockwork mechanisms working beneath the surface [...] and the fun comes from piecing together what they are operating
It doesn't seem to matter which university club the protagonist chooses, events never end up how he wants them to. Tennis, cycling, foreign languages, film - all conclude with him unhappy and burdened with the desire to turn back the clock to relive his two years and obtain his rose-coloured campus life. His misadventures are accompanied by a panoply of roguish characters: the devious and incomparably snide Ozu, the belligerent and mottephobic Akashi, the plunging chin of the easygoing Higuchi or the dentistry student Hanuki - prone to giving gum massages when inebriated. The protagonist is convinced his discontent stems from a wayward decision, the question is will he ever make the right choice in order to be happy?
