I’m fascinated when a shounen sports show touches on themes that go beyond ‘the power of friendship’ and ‘might makes right’. Yes, Kuroko no Basket’s central themes are no different from a lot of shounen manga, but by choosing to take Kuroko’s side of the story, Fujimaki opens up a lot of avenues to explore. Note that I’m not saying this is a direct interpretation of Fujimaki’s work. If anything I’m just breaking down the motifs of the series for my own amusement. Warning: Here be spoilers.
The production issues have certainly caught up with Gatchaman Crowds but let’s work out what happened in this ending.
There’s only one otome game adaptation you should be watching and that’s Uta no Prince-sama.
I am disillusioned. No pictures because I hate anime.
Gatchaman Crowds is as unpredictable as its protagonist.
Whenever I finish the first episode of a Kenji Nakamura anime, I’m never quite sure how I feel about them just yet. There’s a feeling of utter confusion that I often wrestle with. But one thing’s for sure, I liked what I saw.
Someone might come up to you and say that Free! is important because _________. They’re probably right. Maybe this anime about highschool boys forming a swimming club is in fact, a game changer. But when it comes down to just enjoying it as an anime, does all of that really matter?
As the final credits rolled, I couldn’t quite come into terms with what I had just witnessed. Did this series just end with a five minute clip of scenes that have yet to be fully animated and a title card saying, “End of Part One”? Did this series just conclude itself with flashbacks and an entire scene from the first episode, played in reverse?
If you’re around the internet a lot, chances are that someone has already told you that Valvrave the Liberator is bad. You might have come across an elaborate, well worded post on how it is both distasteful and cheap. These impressions must have strengthened the belief that Valvrave is a show best ignored, a byproduct of everything that is wrong with mecha anime. Maybe you’re a better person for not watching it.
Kotonoha no Niwa tells the romantic tale of a young, aspiring shoe maker and an older woman. Minus the obvious foot fetish–it’s as squeaky clean as you can get, stripped of gravitas, weightless as the tinkling piano music playing in the background.
There’s no doubting Makoto Shinkai’s talent when it comes to creating a stunning film. He sees the world a little differently, even finding the beauty in little puddles of rain and tiny kitchens. It takes perspective to create a such a world, and Makoto Shinkai’s point of view is prevalent in every shot.
And yet, even with the most breathtaking shots of falling rain, Kotonoha no Niwa remains a story that functions like clockwork. Everything is planned out methodologically and its themes are telegraphed from the very beginning. You can almost see the strings being pulled. Even its ending feels like ambiguity for ambiguity’s sake. The result is a film that is bogged down by its infatuation with an idealized romance but never quite delivers the high emotional notes the way it needs to. It’s boxed in with all the other pure love romance stories that have always populated Japanese art and fiction, albeit a lot less sappy. Kotonoha no Niwa doesn’t quite achieve the greatness it should have, but it’s still worth a watch. It’s harmless and forgettable, but easy to watch and rewatch.