After last week’s cumulative piece, my actual episodic Tsuredure Children writeups began in earnest this week, forcing me to find out if I actually can write full articles about twelve minute shows. There turned out to be no problems there, and in fact, Tsuredure Children’s four skit setup allowed me to do a pretty close read on what worked or didn’t across each comic bit. This should be fun!
You can check out my full review over at ANN.
Let’s get back to Casshern Sins. We’re coming off a pair of Lyuze-focused episodes at the moment, where she ultimately confirmed both her feelings for Casshern and her own will to live. It’s been interesting to get such a deep dive into Lyuze’s feelings this late into the narrative, but it makes sense – having spent the first half of the series blessed with the certainty of hating Casshern, she’s only now forced to reckon with the ambiguity of an open, even possibly hopeful future. The power of certainty, of giving yourself up to a cause or a god or just a personal goal, is a real and almost physical thing in Casshern Sins. Those that can raise their eyes to the horizon and see something worth seeking endure – those that lose hope fall to Ruin. Lyuze had to trade the certainty of vengeance for an uncertain hope, but she can see a real future now. I hope she makes it through.
We’re back with more Chihayafuru! The last episode was very likely the strongest episode of the show to date, merging an excellent character introduction with some desperately needed Taichi development. Taichi had really gotten the short straw up until that point, being forced to act as the third tag-along pillar of a Destined Romance that had constantly presented Chihaya and Arata as fated partners. Seeing him articulate his frustration about his lack of talent, and also legitimately earn a win off Chihaya, was a very satisfying experience. And with four members in the bag, we now only need one more signee to make the karuta club real. Let’s get right to it!
Look, I’ve spent eleven straight volumes offering staid, craft-oriented critiques of One Piece. I’ve discussed key structural decisions, the composition of action setpieces, Oda’s evolving visual repertoire, and all manner of other theoretically interesting facets of comic design. I have been very good about trying to ensure you generous supporters get your money’s worth out of these writeups, and that they aren’t simply the style of fan-gushing you can find on basically any forum.
With all that in mind, I think I’ve earned the right to say HOLY SHIT THIS VOLUME’S JOURNEY INTO THE GRAND LINE IS SO FUCKING COOL.
Welp, I guess I’m reviewing Tsuredure Children weekly now. With the season being what it is and Symphogear streams still nowhere to be found, I’m now picking up Tsuredure Children for ANN. The show’s certainly given me plenty to talk about for Crunchyroll, so I guess it’s about time!
You can check out my overview of the show so far over at ANN.
Alright everybody, let’s get back to our Aikatsu. The show’s last episode wasn’t really a highlight, but it did do some reasonable work in integrating Ran into the main trio. Both Ran and Aoi have gotten recent focus episodes, so I’m guessing we’ll be getting either group conflicts or more Ichigo stuff this time. That’s fine by me – Ichigo seems closest of the main three to what I associate with the “spirit of Aikatsu,” the kind of nonsensical positive attitude that leads to stuff like painting your signature with a giant car-sized brush. More of that bullshit, please. Let’s get right to it!
Mawaru Penguindrum’s eighteenth episode is a singular masterpiece. Focused entirely on Tabuki’s confrontation with the Takakura family, it offers a ferocious articulation of Penguindrum’s central themes, tackling the nature of family, cycles of violence, and hope in a meaningless world in the most desperate terms yet. It’s also one of the show’s most beautiful episodes, courtesy of this episode’s genius director – Shigeyasu Yamauchi.
Let’s mosey on back to Ojamajo Doremi. Last episode saw Doremi getting repeatedly dunked on for the sake of a doomed crush, fully reaffirming her status as the world’s unluckiest pretty girl. If there was any moral in that episode, it was more for the dads in the audience, with perhaps a hint of “go easy on your parents, they make mistakes too.” I’m guessing this episode will return us back to Doremi’s classroom and the usual thematic cycles, but we’ll have to see! Doremi has been consistently expanding its dramatic range, so very little would surprise me now. Let’s get right to it!
Classroom of the Elite continued its general downward trend this week, firmly shifting from “I guess this could maybe be good I dunno” into “nope, this is just a generally bad anime” territory. The show’s odds were pretty long from the start, given it opened with a fair number of weaknesses and its theoretical strengths would be very tough to realize, but it’s still always disappointing to see a show fall apart. Ah well.
You can check out my full review over at ANN, or my episode notes below.
Flip Flappers begins with a sharp contrast, a vivid illustration of two very different girls. We first meet Cocona, in a series of shots that speak volumes about both her specifically and Flip Flappers at large. The very first shot of the show is an hourglass optical illusion – it tells the time, but it’s also an image of two girls facing each other, and could even be interpreted as a womb. This strangely charged marker of time passing is followed by the reveal of Cocona herself, seated at her school desk, eyes dark. Cocona exists in a blue and silent world, a sterile classroom that feels far smaller and more shabby than most such spaces. Classrooms are ubiquitous in anime, and their prevalence as key settings means they’re often granted great personality, or staged as open and inviting places. This classroom is the opposite – cramped and cold, it tells us that Cocona’s world is a small and unhappy place.