I really don’t know how this happened, but somehow we have arrived at Wednesday once again. With the overall year drifting into its final stages, I find myself once more buried under a variety of seasonal projects, as I start to hack away at top tens and bottom fives and whatever else the ceaseless content mill demands of me. Additionally, this happens to be a uniquely consequential year, as it signals the end of a full decade in… well, reality I guess, but more specifically anime. While I try to marshal my thoughts regarding the inherently panic-inducing last ten years of my life, I hope you all enjoy reading my latest thoughts on the week’s new cartoons. Let’s get to it!

This week’s My Hero Academia was only able to do so much with source material that amounted to one long expository conversation. The adaptation of this arc into anime really hasn’t done it any favors so far; breezy, skimmable chapters of exposition turn into imposing twenty minute blocks of animation, where all those long text bubbles have to be read one after another. Once again, what visual intrigue could be found here was inserted in the margins – the illustrations of Eri’s entrapment, or the dynamic closeups highlighting Deku and Mirio’s frustration.

Of course, beyond the anime’s inherent shortcomings, a big issue this week was once again the inherently terrible design of Nighteye’s signature power. “My Foresight requires a twenty-four hour cooldown” is an obvious band-aid being placed on a gaping wound of narrative design; the plain fact is, no character in a story like this should have the power of fortune telling. It was a bad idea from the start, and it will reap frustrating narrative repercussions for as long as Nighteye remains in the picture.

Meanwhile, Legend of the Galactic Heroes actually pulled off a very exciting episode, as Yang Wen-li dispensed with the martial rebellion back on his own capital planet. I mentioned last week that Galactic Heroes is always far more interesting when it’s directly pitting Yang against Reinhard, and that proved true here; though Reinhard wasn’t actually available in person, it was his plan guiding the Alliance to this point, and Yang’s counter-play that defeated him.

In larger narrative terms, it’s been very interesting to see both Reinhard and Yang essentially reforge each of their respective governments over the course of this arc, with each of them echoing their predecessor’s methods in various ways. Reinhard’s rebellion seemed very much like Reinhard himself, prioritizing ruthlessness and misdirection, while Yang’s use of former enemies and destruction of his own defense systems echoed his focus on forgiveness and mutual vulnerability. While the individual human strokes of this narrative can lack in emotional impact, the core contrast between Yang and Reinhard is as compelling as ever.

Vinland Saga at last rose out of its snowy doldrums this week, with an episode that established a new and very intriguing narrative thrust. Pretty much this whole episode was spent navigating around the extreme pride and terrifying strength of Thorkell, which allowed Yukimura’s skill at writing debates take the dramatic weight away from the production’s wilting production values. Frankly, this change in focus also matches my own dramatic interests; it was fun watching Askeladd work as the corner man for Thorfinn’s duel, but action scenes ultimately excite me far less than Yukimura’s thematic interests, and thus Vinland Saga will likely always appeal to me less than Planetes.

Fortunately for me, the second half of this episode was all about Yukimura’s themey-wemey stuff, as Thorkell was forced to contend with another man who, like Thors, has truly seen the “far shore.” When Thorkell asks if Askeladd forgives him for killing all his men, Askeladd’s fatigued but truly meant response is “letting it be water under the bridge is the only thing you can do.” His words there echo his earlier reflections on masters and slaves, and his understanding of the ways even the strongest among us can find ourselves trapped in cycles of violence and reparation. It is Askeladd’s steadfast gaze towards that far shore that allows him to forgive, just as it allows Canute to forgive the murder of the man who was essentially his father. Thors, Canute, and Askeladd all seem to be crafting a common philosophy of humanitarian equality and forgiveness, one which draws on all the religious traditions that have guided them this far, but one which still might be too bright and distant for their own world.