A review of the Yuki Yuna wa Yusha de Aru anime series
Yuki Yuna will never be as popular as Madoka. It’s unfair to compare every magical girl show to that landmark series but Yuki Yuna wa Yusha de Aru (Yuki Yuna is a Hero) doesn’t do itself any favours by trying to cherry pick a lot of the idiosyncrasies that made Madoka so special.
Don’t want to fight, oh wait now I’m fighting, oh isn’t fighting hard, oh you’re a newcomer, look at us accepting you
There is, as is now in fashion, the rather mean spirited take on being a magical girl. No longer is it all about having faith in your friends or vanquishing evil doers; there are elements of that but now there’s a price to pay. And it’s not just the tribulations of trying to be a teenage girl and a superhero and having to lie to your family. There’s the abstract, collage-effect enemies that drift menacingly and unknowably, savaging the colourful little pixies that assault it. There’s the music that may not come close to Yuki Kajiura’s haunting score but gives it a good go with some individually stand-out tracks. So it’s business as usual then?
Four films into the Kara no Kyoukai series and the expectation is for a quality dip, something thrown together to appease fans and cover some of the source material that wasn't as glamorous or directorially challenging; The Hollow is none of these things, but it is the closest the collection has become so far to being formulaic. Following a similar tempo to the first film and of comparable lengths, whereas the first was meant as a soft-landing to the dense and chaotic universe of the series, this is more preparatory by taking away the focus from Mikiya and letting both Shiki and Toko expand and develop. Toko is no longer just a quirky red-head and the juxtaposition in Shiki's circumstances from film to film is elaborated upon.
Brutality and intrigue draw and engage but without exposition and understanding, the long term entertainment of the audience suffers
Opening moments after the calamitous ending of film two, Murder Speculation Part One, Shiki is taken to hospital and stabilised but remains in a coma for two years, watched over by Mikiya whom the nurses refer lovingly to as a puppy. Upon awakening her vision is besieged by scratchy, ephemeral fissures and hallucinations of death; after attempting to physically exorcise the visions, she is wrongly diagnosed with aphasia and a speech therapist is called in. Touko masquerades as the therapist and tells Shiki of her affliction while reporting back her progress to her new employee, the expectant Mikiya. At night however, spirits roam the hospital and take a deadly interest in Shiki's predicament.
There is a sense that Kara no Kyoukai (lit. Boundary of Emptiness): Overlooking View has something to prove; eager in both presentation and story it demands to be watched. It has every right to be keen with the success of six further instalments resting on it, the first movie can't simply warm up the engine or it risks losing an audience that is unfamiliar with its Type-Moon heritage or those with only a passing interest. The result is a movie that baffles as much as it entertains by taking a matter-of-fact approach to elements which, one can only hope, will be explored elsewhere and providing a measured introduction to the kaleidoscopic beauty of the characters and universe.
a stellar opening gambit to the series and [...] is perhaps the only satisfying way Kara no Kyoukai could have started
A spate of seemingly unrelated suicides catches the attention of Touko, a red-headed pseudo-detective nestled in a chaotically organised office, who asks the acerbic Shiki to look into them. From the pre-credits scene it is clear that Shiki shares a relationship with Mikiya who now sits torpid in Touko's office, his condition linked to the derelict apartment block where the suicides occurred. Visiting the building, Shiki finds another girl who has leapt to her death and spots nine spirits floating above the building. After relaying the information to Touko, she returns only to be resolutely beaten by a powerful resident spirit. Their final confrontation takes place atop the rotting building while Touko locates the source of both the spirits and the suicides.
It's inevitable that Mokke is going to be compared to the seminal Mushishi: it deals with a similar "hidden to all but those who can see" neer-do-wells, has a similar way of dealing with them and maintains the same kind of morality about their place within nature. This may sound like Mokke is nothing but a substandard copy of Mushishi but in actuality, the similarities are minimal at best.
Pleasant and charming it may be however it doesn't have the humanity or the depth to maintain interest.
Ostensibly set in modern day with two sisters, the younger of the pair has the ill fortune to be easily possessed by wandering spirits while the other older of the two is able to see and hear the ephemeral critters, a gift she shares with her grandfather. The first three episodes take different approaches to dealing with the entities: the first is about the older sister wanting to protect the younger one culminating in her banishing a shadowy antagonist, the second is about a helpful but tricksy fox spirit, while the third is about a spirit which follows a doubting person around, devouring their confidence and vitality. The nature of the entities is stated on a case by case basis and borrows more from Buddhist and Shinto mythology than the "part of nature" route taken by Mushishi. In terms of comparisons, Mokke borrows more from Dennou Coil than it does anything else; the similar focus on younger children rather than teenagers or adults, even the first spirit is akin to Dennou Coil's digital aberrations.
