There’s not even anyone called Brynhildr in Gokukoku no Brynhildr (Brynhildr in the Darkness), let alone being in the dark. It’s far from the only misleading thing about the series but it’s a good enough place to start. Unless you’ve seen Elfen Lied, in which case it’s probably worth stating that Brynhildr is by the same author and has the same kind of sadistic nonchalance towards human life but without the puppy killing or fascination with urination.
Anyway. Witches exist, except they’re technological rather than magical so they have an implant rather than a broomstick, and several have escaped imprisonment and now cluster around the interminably dense male lead, Ryouta Murakami. Stuff happens, breasts are exposed, stupidity is enacted, and witches die. And when they do they melt into a puddle of poorly censored goo. Oh what a world. What. A. World.
I will never be ready to talk at any great length about rape. Although I'm aware of, though not familiar with, the physical and emotional damage it leaves in its wake, there is nothing of value I can add to any discussion of it. This didn't seem to stop the first three episodes of BTOOOM! (three o's) though which handles the past and present sexual assault of one of its main characters with all the deftness and sensitivity of throwing a rotten watermelon against a cinder block wall.
unable to fathom the complexities of a countdown on a small box that explodes when it reaches zero
It doesn't help that the first three episodes of the series have the same kind of misanthropic sadism towards humanity that others like Elfen Lied and Gantz have demonstrated. That humans are corpulent, fleshy bags of bile, hatred and animosity and as an audience we are supposed to feel a catharsis, or at least satisfaction, when they are brutally killed.
To resurrect their Blood franchise, Production I.G. enlisted the help of CLAMP to spawn the latest entry, Blood-C. Beginning like a relic of the past with stereotypical do-gooder Saya, candy-sweet twins, a mysterious café owner and flowery nonsense spouted by an unseen narrator, the opening episodes settle into a comfy monster-of-the-week format with a dash of playground idealism. Then people start to die. A lot of people. Starting with innocent bystanders then progressing to, what was assumed to be, main cast members, the carnage is relentless - the final episode a murderous orgy of violence and bloody slaughter set to a grand orchestral score.
It's certainly unexpected.
only the sword-wielding school-girl core is retained with the bat-like chiropterans banished to grainy flashbacks
The first time the show springs a meaningful death - not overall-wearing red-shirts - it is brutal, unequivocal and has all the trademarks of a hideous dream sequence. Amazingly, it's to the series' credit that this discord is maintained. Even the denouement, a clever in-context breaking of the fourth wall, feels like protagonist Saya is should wake with a gasp and clutch at a fevered brow. The ribbing of so many tropes is elegantly done, whether it's the ethereal dog's comment on Saya's lack of prudishness or the hardened father's love of sweets.
