#152: Hanebado! (2018)

Director: Shinpei Ezaki

Series Composition: Taku Kishimoto

Based on a manga by Kōsuke Hamada

Voice Cast: Hitomi Ohwada as Ayano Hanesaki; Miyuri Shimabukuro as Nagisa Aragaki; Ai Kayano as Yuika Shiwahime; Arisa Sakuraba as Nozomi Ishizawa; Asami Shimoda as Kaoruko Serigaya; Konomi Kohara as Erena Fujisawa; Mariya Ise as Conny Christensen; Mikako Komatsu as Miyako Tarōmaru; Nobuhiko Okamoto as Kentarō Tachibana; Sayaka Ohara as Uchika Hanesaki; Yuuna Mimura as Riko Izumi

Viewed in Japanese with Subtitles

 

With this, I begin my first foray into sports anime, a genre I had never really dived into at all until now. Sports shows in Japanese animation are numerous, and with cases like Star of the Giants (1968-71), a baseball series, they are important parts of the medium which have been neglected as in that particular case, that was a major mainstream success but has never been a title talked of in the West. In the West, few if any were imported into the United Kingdom, whilst they were never really financial successes for DVD runs in the United States. Now streaming exists this has opened the doors for them, and a title like Yuri on Ice (2016)¸ an ice skating series that also happened to be an LGBT drama, which managed to even gain recognition from professional ice skaters and be a cross-over hit, has helped considerably. I can see how sports titles can be sold to a Western audience, particularly now we do not have single disc releases of a couple of episodes like in the 2000s, but streaming and box sets.

Note the word "drama". That is the secret little detail, and that is where I am enticed now by this genre. I come to Hanebado, for example, expecting a badminton story about teen female players. Hanebado is actually a melodrama which drips with dark psychodrama, merely set in a world of girls' badminton, and it is compelling when this pulled the rug out from under me only a few episodes in. Premise wise, it sticks to two female leads Nagisa and Ayano. Both are traditional archetypes. Nagisa is the super tall and muscular tomboy, the powerful striking player who can hit the shuttlecock hard and would normally be the boss or minor boss in any other premise who joins the good guys, whilst Ayano is a quiet and meek girl who has to be dragged back into playing badminton by her best friend, quitting in spite of the fact she is insanely talented.  

Nagisa does at first have a withdrawn, cruel attitude to her fellow players in their badminton club, unresolved collateral damage to how Ayano beat her soundly, which she eventually overcomes to became a better person. Ayano, when returned to the game, turns out to be a monster, as seen in the first episodes, and psychologically damaged. Her mother, an international badminton champion, left her as a young girl, even currently in the story raising a protégée named Connie instead in another place, causing a huge psychological shock on Ayano where, when she fully absorbs herself into badminton again, she is remorseless and egotistical to even members of her own team. The show's hugest issue is that even at thirteen episodes, there is a lot that could have been fleshed out as well as it could have, particularly her relationship with her mother, but it is a surprise to find Hanebado is as it is. A huge factor to consider is that this anime takes drastic artistic license with the original source material, which is also liable to provoke controversy. Even without this detail, much to the horror of the Crunchyroll users following the comments section, this shows gets far more anguished then its light and artistically vibrant opening and ending credits suggests.

Inherently sports as a narrative, just seeing this, allows for stories of psychological growth. Nagisa, shaken by her defeat, is confronted for her selfishness early on by her best friend Riko, growing and preparing for a tournament in hope for facing Ayano again, also part of the same badminton club. Despite her size and prescience, Nagisa is an outsider, everyone from childhood presuming she had an innate advantage in games rather than from skill, significant as she has to overcome speed disadvantage and that using her power to win would not work against trickier opponents. Ayano is so insanely good, and having suffered emotional damage, that she almost has a split personality, the shy and almost childlike innocent who yet in wanting to symbolically abandon her own mother turns into a figure from Gothic literature plonked into a badminton story. She is still capable of being sweet and thoughtful, a simply signifier the cute whale keychain found on her sports bag, but like a succumbing poison, whenever she has a racket in her hands she gets intense and antisocial, even the production using creepy faces normally found in a horror anime. Whilst, again, the show does rush, this even gets to her best friend realising when it is too late how her own decision, playfully forcing Ayano's hand to join the club, has caused this to happen.

Ayano in particular, in my research, is one of the biggest changes from the source material. In taking a very big risk, turning a potential fan favourite into an at-times unlikable character, the production clearly wanted to take on the idea of how one's talent, and how one strives to win as is common sports drama, can actually turn one into a villain. A comment asked a few times between characters is why they actually play badminton, and whilst this is likeably to be even a cliché in the sports anime genre, it is already fascinating that this show tackles something arguably existential. One character, in the position of the ends justifying the means, becomes an innately sweet figure who yet when pushed turned into a demon, worse as Ayano, this aforementioned demon, is tragically a lost child, not that different from the young girl who kept wanting to play badminton even when her mother got tired and wanted to stop, seeking attention and ultimately love from another person. The gothic literature reference is not a joke in the slightest, as this kind of character whose fear of being isolated has added a toxic side to her personality, is a figure that has yet ended up in badminton, where it does make sense and not feel out of place. The character is likely controversial to fans of the manga this way - a depressed and emotionally broken one now - but as an outsider, her characterisation even if over-egged at times in the creepy faces is inspired.

Whilst badminton is still front and centre, there is a lot of drama alongside the doldrums of the activity. Here, when people loss they have to hold back tears. That there are members soon the graduate, with only one last chance to play the central narrative's tournament, comes to mind, alongside there still being practice and that, whilst the focus is on the female players, their club does have two male members who have to compete and ask whether they would want to keep on playing the game to a greater skill. There is one character who does stick out like a sore thumb, though I do like her, just because the figure of Kaoruko, with bright long pink hair and the demeanour of a cartoonish villain as Ayano's childhood rival, does suggest a figure from a more light hearted show (again) plonked into a more serious badminton show. Particularly as, alongside this show likely to enrage real sports players with a lot of the bad sportsmanship on play, the drama is central, so this figure who gets a little bit of time onscreen in the centre is a curiously flamboyant figure to even cross in real life if she ever was to exist.

Production wise, it is slick. A high bar has been reached in anime for me arguably, where unless you witness something really stumble, (cough, My Sister the Writer (2018)), there is not a chance of anything particularly dreadful appearing for the most part in the streaming era. It does mean that, if there is one potential issue for Hanebado entirely out of its hand, it is that, unlike Maasaki Yuasa's Ping Pong The Animation (2014), also a drama from the lens of male ping pong players but also wildly idiosyncratic in aesthetic, it does have to compete against other shows with similar character designs and high quality production even outside the sports genre, an annoyance as this does a lot of good things. I do have to admire the work Liden Films put into this project as an animation studio, and as they have only existed since 2012, they have a lot of potential in the future. I have to admire in particular the work they put into the actual scenes of badminton as, thankfully, there are no egregious attempts to work around movements, just a lot of hard work which was clearly put in. Those opening and ending animations are actually sumptuous too, the opening especially, more so as I have not really seen a lot of shows in my fandom where they have been really elaborate, a case of where even by itself as a mere music video, it looked like it had to be extensively constructed. It also works even in terms of drama, especially as even for all its lightness it does play to the psychodrama. I mean, with Ayano facing a figure on the other side of the net who is fragments of various characters' faces, including her own, before it turns into Nagisa, the badminton show is already getting in psychological metaphors 101 before it even started.

 Beyond this, the show baring Kaoruko's pink hair is fully grounded in naturalism, certainly staying to its drama and the excitement of the games contrasting each other. The only real aesthetic risk takes place in the last episode, when Nagisa and Ayano are playing each other finally over a three episode game, suddenly switching everything in terms of how the show has been presented as. Barring the requisite if absurd scenes of the cast at the sides, watching, explaining each person' special badminton techniques like fighting styles, the finale does escalate with their strain and anguish, going for everything and at their breaking points in the match, before suddenly everything shifts. Flashes of etched animation on white instead appear onscreen, the soundtrack entirely replaced by their breathing instead until the resolution abruptly happens. It is exceptional artistry pulled off fully, and it became the show's high point as a result.

[Major Plot Spoilers]

Those issues with the rushing of the plot do not help, but they could have been worse, and knowing this show actually took the risk to rewrite the source material, I suspect half of the issue is them having to adapt a long form manga, and also having to work with new ideas over only thirteen episodes, which for me is still not that many depending on the show. It is nice that, whilst she is still cocky at the end of the show, Ayano has her demons exorcised by losing the final game and is not just a bad person, just one needing a healthier environment, whilst Nagisa gets to prove herself with the drama around an injured knee meaning she has also had to overcome real adversity. Nagisa and Ayano softening can be seen for some as a cop-out happy ending, but it is established Ayano is a gentle figure, frankly a shy and damaged girl, the demonic personality only stemming when badminton became no longer a game but a psychological prison, both fed on a sense of superiority but mingled with fears of abandonment.

Her mother is the plot thread which could have done with more time - I can see where people are mortified when Ayano effectively forgives here, though it is not really forgiveness, just Ayano declining going out of Japan with her mother to stay with her team, arguably a subtle and more psychologically healthy form of distancing herself from her mother as she now has friends there for her. Her mother is also explicitly single, the father never seen, Ayano raised presumably by the grandparents, and admitting her failure, done to try to help Ayano become a better player but felt as a misguided action from an imperfect figure. She can still be seen as the most matter of fact of worst parents possible, a villain whose motivation is merely really bad parenting, but it is leading to the attempt by Hanebado to be psychologically complex. The commonts on Crunchyroll wishing Aynao had symbolically (or literally) slain her "evil" mother, enraged by the plotting, would have been childish and not fulfilling. Whilst I feel the show needed more time, it at least tried complexity and succeed for the most part. More so because the studio behind this show decided to write off the page, which was a bold risk and made the more darker, psychological melodrama actually more rewarding for me learning of it.

[Major Plot Spoilers Ended]

There could have been more episodes, to extrapolate and fill in potential narrative gaps especially for all the psychological wounds exposed. Hanebado as an anime was adapted considerably different from the source material which does actually bring a new question mind to how it could have extended the series without compromising its virtues. All this enticing drama is, by all accounts, not in the manga, so an extra episode or two from a source originally a sixteen volume manga could have scuppered the best aspects of the show. It also does the inspired decision of making Nagisa eventually the true protagonist and the most likable person once she grows, despite her appearance and demeanour a noble figure having to struggle through an existential crisis to becoming a better person and player. If Ayano was a more optimistic poster girl and a bigger central character in the manga, that could have lost me as a fan the way the show does make Nagisa earn that true protagonist moniker with a great final episode. So, I can live with what we got. What I got thankfully was a great introduction to the sports genre. Even next to giant robots, with all the sports (including made up ones) you could depict, this is a genre now that has a lot of common plotting tropes clearly visible, but a lot of ways you can tell them which is going to excite me, especially when one like this can improvise with its material and take a few risks. It has taken some knocks of derision, but those risks I have to admire.

#151: Lupin the Third: The Woman Called Fujiko Mine (2012)

Director: Sayo Yamamoto

Series Composition: Mari Okada

Based on the characters created by Monkey Punch

Voice Cast: Miyuki Sawashiro as Fujiko Mine; Kanichi Kurita as Lupin III; Daisuke Namikawa as Goemon Ishikawa; Kiyoshi Kobayashi as Daisuke Jigen; Kōichi Yamadera as Inspector Zenigata; Yuuki Kaji as Oscar

Viewed in Japanese with English Subtitles

 

The Lupin the Third franchise has lasted so long it became an institution. It could also develop time periods as a result. By 2015, we have Lupin the Third Part IV, and Part V (2018) later on, modern day reinterpretations after the Monkey Punch characters have had a long time to be entrenched in popular culture. Between animated television specials, a couple of OVAs and films, over the decades from the seventies when this franchise was first being adapted into animation it grew in significant. The television specials in particular were very regular, between 1989 and 2013 one per year being created, which changed with gaps after that year. One significant entry came in 2012 which is what we are covering here, part of the 40th Anniversary of the Lupin animated series, and the 45th Anniversary of the original manga, feeling in contest like a kick to a very different direction. It could easily be forgotten among all the other entries, but it is in hindsight a visually unique and risky production, with famous characters, directed by a woman, Sayo Yamamoto, with full creative control with another significant figure, as series compositor, also being a woman named Mari Okada. The bigger surprise is that they created a dark, more sexually explicit and adult version that is a return to the Lupin character's origins.

Contextually, whilst I confess to not be comfortably knowledgeable on the Monkey Punch character at all, I am very aware of how this franchise has changed continually. Lupin as an institution, let alone a character, had various forms over the decades, and a more family friendly version became popular as you get to the 2000s and animation TV specials for the franchise were more common. The character could be even boiled down, though likely to be far more complicated than this, to which coloured jacket he wore, a symbology to this colour coding with the two of importance here red and green. Red jacket was the one closest to the original Monkey Punch creation, a far more adult manga in tone. Green jacket was more accessible, and most know this version in the West likely due to The Castle of Cagliostro (1979), arguably the most known property of Lupin for many in the West due to it being Hayao Mizayaki's theatrical debut, his work on this film and the television series before having an influence on this version that toned down the edgier character.

It feels strangely symbolic, when you even had a crossover special with the Detective Conan franchise beforehand, that we got this production, one explicitly meant to look to the later author's original work, a much darker and lewder creation that was even influenced by MAD Magazine from the United States. Here, being with a spoken word musical piece called New Wuthering Heights, the sense of breaking from the trend is immediately set up for its opening credits does not start with the usual J-pop song over a glitzy opening, but a monologue from Fujiko herself (played in the Japanese dub here by Miyuki Sawashiro) about her desire to steal being existential, over highly detailed and surreal imagery, all of which is in monochrome and with Fujiko naked in them all. Directed references to Japanese pop culture from the seventies, Gothic and Western decadent symbolism, Greek statues and doppelgangers aiming guns at each other, all with a jazzy piece that begins the high bar of excellent and eclectic music pieces throughout the series. If you were planning to create a drastic shift in tone for this franchise into the new decade, this was an immediate success in laying your intentions out for the audience.

Having two female voices tackle Fujiko Mine, Sayo Yamamoto's the most in control, a character who has at times (like Twilight of the Twilight Gemini (1996)) been there for merely titillation and other times the femme fatale figure, is such an obvious thing to have done, but is inspired for being common sense. From a figure whose name is literally a pun on having a big bust, it is quite a distinct choice to actually let a female creator or two tackle this figure for their reinterpretation. Sayo Yamamoto is a director still in a minority, as there are still not many female directors in the anime industry. She has also only helmed three productions rather than be only an episode director on many others - they however happen to be this, Michiko & Hatchin (2008), a Brazil set series centred around female characters, and Yuri on Ice (2016), an ice skating drama which blew up as a crossover success and meant she has made an impact in the director's chair. Mari Okada - the series compositor alongside episodes scripted by Dai Sato, Itsuko Miyoshi, Junji Nishimura and Shinsuke Onishi - is a very prolific and well regarded scriptwriter, to the point she is a case (male or female) of a recognised figure too. Not everything has succeeded, as unless The Lost Village (2016) was intentionally a horror parody, but into the 2020s she is still a big figure.

What might surprise is that, even next to The Mystery of Mamo (1978), the first theatrical adaptation which was a deliberate throwback to the Monkey Punch version, this television series between them is exceptionally adult and dark even if it still faithfully tackles this world. This means nudity, morally grey versions of Fujiko and Lupin the gentleman thief, antiheroes who still kill people, and as the main narrative of the whole series continues on even tackling dark themes like child abuse and human experimentation inspired by the real life ones that transpired during the Cold War with hallucinogenic like LSD and mind control. The first half of the series waits before the main story fully arrives, a series of one-time stories set before the protagonists were together. This starts with Fujiko, the femme fatale, and then introduces Lupin, the main protagonist of the franchise, Daisuke Jigen, and original figure and expert sharpshooter, Goemon Ishikawa, literally a samurai in the modern day and meant to be an ancestor of real life outlaw hero Ishikawa Goemon, and Koichi Zenigata, meant to be the descendent of fictional Edo era policeman character Zenigata Heiji. In terms of characterisation, it will make some uncomfortable how darkly the characters are depicted even with context of the friendlier versions, but that is as much part of this production's goal, in returning to the template Monkey Punch set down, and adding its own touches.

Lupin himself is still a very clownish but very accomplished thief, but is also however a bit of a horn dog. The series begins with him first encountering Fujiko during their attempt to sneak into a secret island cult who uses a euphoric drug called "Dizzy", marking her leg with the statement, as the grandson of the French thief Arsen Lupin¹ who also liked to proclaim his work before committing them, that he plans to steal her. Zenigata in particular is very different from others I have encountered, even in the Secret of Mamo, the Willie Coyote to Lupin's Roadrunner usually treated as a joke character. Now he is liable to being a letch and even cruel despite still possessing an honour in his job as a law enforcer.

One character, who is only found in this story, is Zengata's lieutenant on the force Oscar, explicitly a young male officer who is attracted to Zenegata and, with a very elegant character design, does disguise himself a lot of times as women, even his name a reference to Riyoko Ikeda's The Rose of Versailles, a legendary shoujo manga series. His characterisation dances on a dangerous tight rope, but ultimately it is a tragedy that, immediately hating Fujiko (calling her a "spittoon" with all the gross connotations explicit) when she and Zenegata do have sex at one point. Oscar is a figure in love with someone who will not love him back, and embroiled into a sinister full series narrative about a cabal of owl men watching Fujiko from the sides, they will take advantage of this and lead to Oscar's downfall.

For the first half, this show follows the tradition of Lupin the Third as a series of globetrotting narratives, where (with made up names for some of the countries) you can go from tomb raiding in an Egyptian pyramid to a stand-in for Cuba and Che Guevara, involving an airplane hijack and tensions between the stand in for communist Russia and one for the United States. Notable details come to mind with the show already through these first episodes, the music already mentioned, Naruyoshi Kikuchi with anime director Shinichirō Watanabe as the music producer producing an eclectic soundtrack which can vary between jazz to full blown funk teleported from the seventies. The other most prominent detail is the show's most controversial aspect, the contribution of the third big voice of the show Takeshi Koike through his character designs and style. Koike, student of Yoshiaki Kawajiri and director of the sublime Redline (2009), is connected already in Sayo Yamamoto's history as she worked on Trava: Fist Planet (2001-2), his experiment set in the Redline world originally released as part of a Japanese "DVD magazine". He learnt from his master Kawajiri well, but the art style for The Woman Called Fujiko Mine is very idiosyncratic, with heavy use of dark lines, using the hatching technique and detail, murkier yet very stylish. Everyone still carries their usual appearance, but this probably has some of the most dynamic versions of these legendary characters as a result.

Especially Fujiko Mine. She is not central for parts of the series, and a lot of nudity does transpires, even one with her bound to a bed after being caught, but she is the future everyone, the cast and us, are obsessed over. It says so much how Mari Okada and Sayo Yamamoto wanted to pay tribute to this stereotypical femme fatale and amplify it, pulling off a subversive feminist streak here. She is a manipulator - she has morals occasionally, when it involves the Che Guevara stand-in or the children of a country's leader when she poses as their governess, but Fujiko thinks for herself usually only, for wealth and pretty (stolen) trinkets. She is an extreme of seductive femininity, based on what was clearly Monkey Punch wanting to draw the ultimate sexy woman who uses her allure always, but added with a spike to her personality here which is compelling and strong.

[Major Spoiler Warning]

The series starts to splice in, and been putting the pieces in already from the first episode, an over looking narrative that is "the story of Fujiko Mine". Then by the final episode, the series dismisses this as entire wrong pulls the rug out under the viewer. This series was still stuck with the issue that, with these characters existing for so long, unless they had the right to make a controversial alternative world version they could not include a drastic change to these characters. Instead, the production pulled off something more subversive, taking advantage of this flaw as a virtue in terms of gender politics. Namely that it targets the stereotype of the damaged but strong woman of fiction by suggesting Fujiko is such a figure, as ultra creepy and surreal memories plagued her eventually with the idea of her being a child who was tortured by owl men. Even the end credits plays a subversive game that, over highly eroticised still images of who we presume was Fujiko as a young teen, as we learn that this probably not her.

A trope which is problematic is that for a heroine to be created, a female character must have entered their adult hood or changed due to abuse. An extreme example, which is not used here, is which rape is part of a simplistic explanation for a female character becoming a powerful woman. We are given an extreme and even blasphemous change to Fujiko Mine near the end, to the point inside a theme park built around her she is distressed and no longer the powerful femme fatale as she is become vulnerable due to these memories...only for all of them and her back-story to be a lie. We will never know the true Fujiko Mine, and as she herself states, with a little help from Lupin, she is selfish figure who is remote from such vulnerability, only leading to this here due to a deeply weird of mind manipulating circumstances.

[Major Spoilers Finished]

The show still, in spite of the fact it has to still be part of the Lupin the Third canon, and thus cannot change anything drastic, manages a lot of brave risks. Taking so many that, when the main plot slowly bleeds in, The Woman Named Fujiko Mine gets weird. The entire production team, even the people responsible behind the eerie electronic noises signalling Fumiko's strange series of memories, are the MVP collectively, when a Lupin story gets into drug induced hallucinations of owl people and butterflies, to metaphors and pure hyper erotic content. In knowledge that director Sayo Yamamoto had full control, and her work outside of her own projects, it would not be a surprise if some of the more idiosyncratic details are entirely her own creative choices. Even when the show is subdued early on, you have an episode very early on set at an all girls' school, explicitly playing up to a yuri romance drama, with Fujiko pretending to be a teacher all her students are crushing on as she quotes Goethe in class, with a lot of Gothic aesthetic influences as a lot of the one-shot stories are set in a Europe of this world. When the show fully embraces the strange, you have a perversion of Disneyland attraction of cute Fujiko dolls singing how everyone loves her and topless women turned into her armed with knives; it is bizarre, even in a structurally conventional series, even in mind that the pink shirt era of Lupin, which I have not brought up from the eighties, was a deeply controversial era that included actually real magic and aliens.

This show, in hindsight, was a noble experiment which paid off. The interesting thing is that, in the aftermath, as Mari Okada even went on to direct an animated film herself, alongside still writing scripts, and Sayo Yamamoto has continued and created the success that was Yuri on Ice, Takeshi Koike's career through the 2010s was more Lupin III titles based on his work here, creating a trio of OVAs based within this same version. In terms of women having a higher position in the anime industry since this series, we have a long way to go, but this was a big moment that should be looked to more and be available, entirely because of the fact that it was such a noble, edgy gem.

 

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1) To the uninitiated, Lupin III was in continuity a descendant from Maurice Leblan's French pulp creation. That was an issue in the West for copyright reasons until they finally expired.

Bonus #12: Red Hawk: Weapon of Death (1995)

Directors: Jung Yul Hwang and Sangil Shim

Based on the original manhwa by Sang Wol Ji and Ju Wan So

Voice Cast: David Lucas as Jan Chang; Tessa Ariel as Hongylung; Dorothy Melendrez as Village Kid; George C. Cole as the Narrator; Jimmy Theodore as Liu; Jonathan Charles as Mounja; Mona Marshall as Ko Wan; Peter Spellos as Morlyung; Simon Isaacson as Lord Seobong; Sparky Thornton as Muklyong; Wendee Lee as Lunyung

Viewed in English Dub

 

Didn't they even give you a welcoming ceremony? How rude of them.

We return to a bonus review, a return to Korean animation, to which Manga Entertainment licensed two titles back in the era where, on VHS, they made themselves and their infamies within from the likes of The Legend of the Overfiend (1989) too. Armageddon (1996), becoming a guilty pleasure for me, and Red Hawk, in comparison a much more conventional and consistently put together production than that film or, (shudder), Blue Seagull (1994). This does raise an interesting question, in how things might have been different if Manga Entertainment, having decided to acquire these titles in the nineties, invested in others from other Asian countries beyond Japan alongside anime.

Sadly, as has been the issue with non-Japanese Asian animation and comic books, I seriously doubt they were released with any distinction of their origins, Red Hawk still finding itself in the Collection, my own personal obsession from the company, alongside Violence Jack (1986-1990) to Bubblegum Crash (1991) without any distinction. Tellingly neither Korean title even had an entry on the trailer to that Collection, burnt into my mind from playing it on their old DVDs for too long alongside Mad Capsule Market songs. Red Hawk was sold, likely, as the simple action tale it is. In period Korea in the past, a former ally of villains becomes Red Hawk, a mysterious hero for the people who is masked, wears red and has a hawk. He becomes embroiled in the death of an artisan and counterfeit money, all whilst a likable goof protagonist and a group of friends are on the same mystery. It does evoke how many of these titles were created for their own national audiences, which can be seen in the more esoteric anime which is based on lore or their history; likewise, alongside this, the English voice actors have to negotiate around Korean names as a further reminder of this.

Technically, it does feel more consistent to the other Korean animation I have seen. I will be honest that, however, whilst it is just okay, it is not really that interesting. The meat and potatoes are able to be turned into something interesting, even having a strong female lead who we are introduced to beating up a man the size of a small hill and his ninja lackeys, all of which could go to somewhere. The issue is entirely with execution, where there is a sense that Red Hawk was a production tentatively put together, possibly aware of Blue Seagull as a disaster, possibly not, but definitely cautious in its production. One of the directors made beforehand Street Fighter (1992), a knock-off of the Capcom videogame franchise with the cast now looking exceptionally cartoonish but definitely the copyrighted figures, meaning that this was definitely a foot into a different direction with higher aspirations.

There is a little spice, but this is a very basic film. It also shows that tropes do travel countries, as well as the fact that comedy and drama mix a great deal, as this has a lot of serious moments but also pure slapstick, the lead hero mostly acting like a prat, able to rescue a young girl from a bull but fleeing from being gored when she is safely out of its way. Unfortunately, the film is very predictable. The little spice is some of the few esoteric details - mainly one henchman who is a very elaborately dressed man, even designed to look flamboyant without becoming a stereotype, who deals in the likes of a "Dismal Spirit" poison down the throat that kills most people, to a dark room where spider web can be found that allows him to predict his opponents moves. He is the only idiosyncratic character on the villains' side, right down to the fact his boss still slaps him around despite being a dangerous figure, only acceptable because said leader, whilst an old man, can suddenly grow giant amounts of muscle and is clearly the final boss. It helps that, whilst the English dub is a terrible example of Manga Entertainment adding swearing to raise the age rating, this at least results with that henchman having a scathing comment when he is proved disposable.

Beyond this, sadly even Blue Seagull is compellingly awful, whilst this really does not stand out at all. This is a shame as, among the aforementioned Collection licenses from Manga Entertainment, this was the last of them for me to actually see, rather than review, tragically one of the least interesting of the lot. Beyond elaborating on the plot, which is a bad sign, even in terms of the production, it is not necessarily good or bad, just competent in context. (The only idiosyncratic touch turns out to be the nineties techno music that occasionally appears in the score.) Red Hawk leaves open the promise for a sequel which never came, as the real villain is left unscathed, but the two directors never went on to direct any more feature length anime.

Sangil Shim does have a career, which means I can at least be happy that they went on to continue working and with a lot of fascinating little tangents in their filmography, working in a lot of animation for the United States and Japan too, between Æon Flux (1991) and The LeBrons (2011) to Claymore (2007)¹. If their IMDB credits are right, they have even been a "food and food stylist" which raises a fascinating little question of what that job entails, especially as it involved working on Park Chan-Wook's 2009 vampire film Thirst. Jung Yul Hwang I cannot find anything on, whilst another fascinating detail is that, for the Korean dub, the only figure who went on to greater roles is Gwang Jang, an actor who has acted in live action and for voice acting who has been prolific, especially into the 2010s, and even narrated Thomas & Friends, which means I can inexplicably end this review referencing Thomas the Tank Engine with credibility.

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1) Also Skysurfer Strike Force  (1995-6), an American production I am amazed managed two seasons, one of the many ridiculous American cartoons that came from the nineties, though not one I watched, but trying to chase the trend for sky surfing. Yes, I would like to watch the two seasons.

101 to #150 Retrospective [Part 6]: Best TV Series and Best Theatrical Film

Best TV Series:

5) Now it might surprise you the reader that Virtual-San Looking (2019) is on this list, but honestly, whilst I did not catch most of the humour and this is likely to be a title lost in time once it leaves Crunchyroll streaming, it was a fascinating piece of culture to have sat through. There is many shows about characters just talking - one which only had one mention for a negative, Tesagure! Bukatsu-mono (2013), managed to have three seasons which I covered but have faded in memory. Many are meant to just be for light humour to unwind with (and accidentally only cover the second season of like Anitore XX). Virtual-San, with the bigger danger that it was not a micro-series, but full twenty plus minute episodes, managed however to both sincere and charming even in its flaws, and also magnificently weird even without the pop culture managing to pass over my head. As a snapshot of a trend which has not crossed over into the West, as much of the entertainment was seeing both outsiders to the medium, virtual YouTubers, putting on a show but for series length television, and the idiosyncrasies of watching what was never meant to be a wide reaching show.

4) On a more logical choice, I feel however that I like to have all three potential candidates share the fourth spot for various reasons, all in my first proper steps into the giant robot genre, and all three deserving this spot. They also make a fascinating trio representing a time period where, over the Millennium, the giant robot genre had to change to keep as substantial genre. Dai Guard (1999-2000), an early digital animated production and before director Seiji Mizushima made his hit Full Metal Alchemist (2003), negates any concern to change the template on this long existing genre, instead creating a unique premise of what would happen in regular white collar employees in an office had to operate a giant robot. Treating the tropes as a disaster story, not a disaster film but how fire station staff or a rescue team at an actual disaster would have to intervene, through the lens of giant robots fighting giant monsters is a rewarding story to tell. It has its flaws (and a clip show episode) but succeeds with the premise.

Gravion and its sequel series Zwei (2002 and 2004) is a pure throwback to the old giant robot tropes from Masami Obari, a veteran mecha designer. This two series story has one significant issue that, to cater to a wider audience, it had to front load so much fan service (skimpy costumes, big busts, maids, some creepier content) that it can put viewers off. It also happens to still be a compelling giant robot show which, paradoxically, has a larger female cast because of that need for fan service, but all whilst still treating them all as competent and with dramas for themselves. So, as a result, in spite of itself, its the version of the giant robot show from the burning passion, Go Nagai era of the genre. The throwback with its bombastic JAM Project songs, of not being remotely scientifically realistic (unlike Dai Guard which tries to for great dramatic weight) but piling on the melodrama for the second season to win me over.

Finally, there is Gun X Sword (2005), from the era where I had gotten into anime but one of the many titles from the time, released over here in the United Kingdom, I never actually got around to until now. Fully invested in the new digitally assisted anime era, from a time still where (like the other two) twenty plus episode seasons were more common, and following how a lot of anime shows were genre cocktails by having all manner of pieces mashed together here. In this case, a sci-fi western where the revenging man with no name has a giant robot he can command from a satellite, but also because of the show being a comedy is a homeless vagrant who smears all the condiments on his meals. Yet this show, with its perfect balance, manages to make this still dramatically compelling and also fun, as it wisely uses its length to its advantage, a story of two halves between a romp searching for the villain who slighted him, with a variety of characters introduced, to the second where it pulls the rug out. When the road trip centres around a single spot in the second, a final conflict linking back to every character from the first half, it manages to succeed.

All three of the shows, flaws and all, were a perfect trio of obscurities which showed me how rich and diverse something of deceptively simple as a giant robot show, about giant robots fighting things, can still go on decades after its initial golden era for children's shows in the seventies. And considering how Gun X Sword had a cameo, with its cast and robots, in the videogame Super Robot Wars t alongside more famous titles, these shows have a rabid diehard fan base who remember them, so all three could (fingers cross) get re-releases on streaming and maybe even physical media again.

3) Sarazanmai (2019) marked the return of Kunihiko Ikuhara and a successful run in the 2010s. Beforehand, he had vanished from anime almost entirely after Adolescence of Utena in 1999, and it seems a wonderful experience for me, in terms of a time capsule, to have first learnt of him when he came back to the director's seat after a decade's absence. I learnt of him work, and admired it, when he came back with Mawaru Penguindrum (2011), grew further into my passion for anime by the time of Yurikuma Arashi (2015), and for Sarazanmai, still without a UK physical release sadly, the kind of eclectic anime viewer and purveyor of obscurities that could admire it fully. Both how, whilst the weakest of the three, this is still a gem from him, and that also the inherent oddness of the premise also wins me over. Who wouldn't want a musical fantasy action show which also has emotion and, tackling male protagonists for the first time in his career properly, has Ikuhara waving the LGBT whilst also getting into his fascinating ideas on modern life and communication. In an era where Masaaki Yuasa went from an obscure figure who was barely known in the West, but now has almost all his work available and is constantly directing output, I can see with hope that, unless Ikuhara likes to think of his projects, that whatever he does in the future, with co-director Nobuyuki Takeuchi here and studio MAPPA or not, still will be brimming with this level of creativity and be more likely to be funded.

2) Another figure came out of the 2010s as a king was Hiroyuki Imaishi, who really took advantage of the last ten years. Leaving studio Gainax, who have tragically faded into obscurity, founding Trigger who, for every title that has not necessarily hit it out of the park, is still a big studio, all whilst Imaishi himself has never really slouched. Even Space Patrol Lulico (2016), which I covered a long time ago, was just a victory lap which was for fun. Beginning the 2010s though, with what also feels like a last triumph for Gainax, he began his first productive year of the new decade with a bang, with the divisive but unique Panty & Stockings with Garterbelt (2010).

It is an acquired taste, both because it is openly a tribute to the type of American animation I myself was growing up with, the Cartoon Network animation of the late nineties and early 2000s, but is also openly profane, full of crude humour and a comical amount of English cursing. Wishing to push what was acceptable, Imaishi and the production however did something inspired in that a) their tribute to Western animation style led to them sacrificing detail for more fluid animation, drastically shifting the focus to some incredible sequences, and b) that everyone from the musicians composing the score to the animators who blow up hand sculpted versions of the ghosts never got predictable, having fun but pushing themselves. It is still such a fun, unpredictable and at times bizarre gem as a result.

1) But, fittingly it goes to a show that, when I first had gotten into anime, was a programme I initially did not like, only to track down on (once second hand and long out of print) DVDs and slowly grow fonder of. Serial Experiments Lain (1998) is an older title, over two decades old now, which is still available in the United Kingdom and it has grown for me considerably. Honestly, just go to the review, and it is explained what grew for me fully.

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Best Theatrical Feature:

Three honourable mentions come first. Knowing how deeply flawed it is, I cannot include X - The Movie (1996) but I have a love for the film in spite of this. Tekkonkinkreet (2006) is an obscurer gem, an important one knowing Michael Arias achieved a historically important moment in being the first gaijin (non-Japanese] anime director, making this colourful and idiosyncratic production with Studio 4°C. Also an entry you would find in the dictionary to define "idiosyncratic" would be The Burning Buddha Man (2013), with its distorted and strange world filled with paper cut out characters, bookmarked by live action sequences and using real liquids (fake blood, fake tears), already a compelling independent piece of animation, painstakingly put together and crafted with its director's distinct vision.

5) Beginning the list, and sadly not a title not really discussed a great deal until now, is Project A-Ko (1986), whose history including theatrical releases in Japan and France allows it on the list. Originally meant to be hentai, this became instead on a decision of the creators a playful, action packed approximation of eighties anime, both in its creativity and all the references to has. From its technical quality to its sense of fun, it is still highly regarded in the modern day for good reason, a rare case of indulgence which is artistically satisfying.

4) The Strange Case of Hana & Alice (2015) sits as a fascinating curiosity. A prequel to a live action film, Hana and Alice (2004), made by the same director Shunji Iwai but negotiating around the fact his returning leads Yū Aoi and Anne Suzuki, originally playing teenagers, would have aged over ten years adults by making the new movie a rotoscope animated production. And, without the original context, it is still a sweet and utterly enjoyable gem, a mystery story with unfolds and undercuts the mystery to reveal warmth, all whilst the art style itself is distinct and having justifiable weight rather than to have made this story as live action.

3) Pom Poko (1994) was the first Studio Ghibli title covered, and is obscurer even in their canon, entirely because Isao Takahata's work for the animation studio, in contrast to Hayao Miyazaki's, was already more esoteric and at times only possible to appreciate as an adult. Pom Poko is a fun film at times, but between its complex take on an environmental message, despite being obviously pro-environment, as well as a tribute to Japanese folklore, it always kept me enwrapped by where the story was going, never going for the obvious solution to this story. That the ending does not turn out how it usually does in Western storytelling adds a greater sense of weight, never going for an easy answer even in a film that  is completely accessible.

2) Night on the Galactic Railroad (1985) has been talked of a lot in this series, and with good reason as an under seen and unique theatrical release that, whilst meant to be suitable for families, is also tackling death and existentialism with a depth that contrasts this. It was a film I had wanted to see for years, and finally able to, it did live up to the experience fully.

1) Also covered a great deal so far, and another film I have wanted to see for many years, the winner is Adolescence of Utena (1999). It was a film if you were just talking about the first two-thirds that would have not qualified as a great film; just a fascinating and surreal production instead trying to condense a narrative based on a thirty plus episode television series. The final third, including the unexpected change of pace for the ending, achieves so much in what is unexpected, what is symbolically and emotionally powerful, and how incredibly accomplished it is as animation that this became a special viewing experience to finally see.

 

And with that, so ends the second season, and roll forth reviews #151 to #200.

#101 to #150 Retrospective [Part 5]: Best Production and Best OVA/ONA/Short

Best Production

For me, the importance here is both best quality, but also distinction in aesthetic and creativity. So with that in mind there are many honourable mentions. Serial Experiments Lain, Key the Metal Idol, and Tekkonkinkreet are all worthy mentions for their own idiosyncratic productions. The Case of Hana and Alice (2015) was fascinating as it was actually a rotoscope production, the animation drawn over the filmed footage which created its own unique look. The Burning Buddha Man (2013) in contrast, animated by one man, was created using cut out paper figures and sets, worthy for its own distinct aesthetic. Even Gundam Reconguista in G (2014-5), despite the story and characterisation being a mess, has to be mentioned as Sunrise, as a studio able to show how seriously they take their work, lovingly put together a giant robot sci-fi story where every character design and machine onscreen, even the locations, are distinct and of a high production quality.

5) Sarazanmai (2019) begins the list with emphasis on how a bold visual look alongside production quality is of an essence. Kunihiko Ikuhara, co-directing with Nobuyuki Takeuchi, has a very distinct style especially when he returned to animation in the 2010s of bold visual colours, and especially an emphasis on symbolism and very distinct pop-surrealist aesthetic to his productions. It is for his both messages, and here to give Amazon a kicking, but using visual signals to tell the story with effortlessness. The fact that he uses recycled footage, a common aspect from his career, becomes part of the rhythm and style of his work, alongside the production staff being on top form here, so that never becomes an issue.

4) X - The Movie (1996), Rintaro's CLAMP adaptation, is deeply flawed. It is a title in a strange position, as the original manga was never finished, and the only other adaptation, for television and also having to create its own ending, was the only series by Yoshiaki Kawajiri of all people. X - The Movie however is a thing of beauty, a dark Gothic work which is made at the pinnacle of theatrical animation, violent and macabre in juxtaposition with its urban metropolis setting. In spite of so many flaws, there are moments in this in cinematic language alongside the art which are stunning to still witness.

3) Night on the Galactic Railroad (1985) is ironically also an adaptation of an unfinished text, though one which survived with a semblance of an ending. A fantasy about an intergalactic train that [spoiler] carries the dead and the supernatural, the issue with adapting this text is how; to which at first the production struck upon the curious idea of making most of the characters humanoid cats, becoming an iconic aspect of the film. Beyond this, whilst I have praised Rintaro's film, the eighties was when there was so much money available for the animation industry, many elaborate productions like this one could come to exist, this a thing of beauty. The material itself allows for many distinctions, from the scenarios to author Kenji Miyazawa's deliberate European interests including a fascination for Esperanto, but everyone who made the film paid perfect homage to the author's work with its quiet grace.

2) Fittingly on the list twice, Ikuhara has only made one theatrical film so far. When given the budget, he made Adolescence of Utena (1999), a gorgeous and surreal spectacle where his imagination was allowed to run. Literally, he builds a fairytale world, alongside the staff at studio J.C. Staff, of a school that constantly shifts in form, only to destroy it at the end in the midst of what even baffled the animators they would have to animate, a car chase that turns into one of the biggest and symbolically rich sequences in anime I have seen.

1) However, whilst a bit unfair to have the sole Studio Ghibli title covered so far take the top spot, there is a reason that studio has become an institution, and Isao Takahata's Pom Poko (1994), an obscure title from Ghibli, is raising the bar so high for anime covered in terms of production it really should have the nod. It is easy for any animation studio to lazily put together a work about an environmental message about raccoons - it is another, alongside the moral complexity at hand in this tale alongside its tributes to Japanese folklore, to make a film this visually vibrant and rich too, likely to have been as painstaking as every title given a nod. (Even Mars of Destruction (2005), on the opposite end of the scale in quality, probably took labour to create just to imagine how much longer this and any other highly regarded animated work took). Everything nominated is a winner, unique, so really any of these would have rightly earned this spot depending on the candidates.

 

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Best OVA/ONA/Short

3) It might be a controversial choice, but I did not cover a great deal that could qualify for this category last year, and Calamity of a Zombie Girl (2018) against a complete lack of expectations was a surprise pleasure. Goofy, nasty, peculiar and a lot of cheese, but the right kind of cheese that itched a desire for weird pulpy anime I have always had. Ever since second hand DVDs led me down the rabbit hole of Manga Entertainment's tackier past, or even the odder licensing choices regardless of tone, a Blu Ray release in 2020 in the United Kingdom for a title like this still took my interest.

Calamity is a throwback to older OVAs as, when it gets violent, you get actual internal organs drawn, but rather than be just a gross piece of work, it comes off more interesting by deliberately throwing off your moral compass on who to root for, and a lot of black comedy. Some of it is clearly deliberate, like someone having to super glue their head back on, and stuff that might have not been, like someone else having their arm ripped off but shrugging it off as they flee the scene with blood trailing them. It is an acquired taste, mainly for the art style, but inexplicably released in 2020 by Anime Limited, I hope they and other companies take this risk as, if any other odd titles like this are still being made and are actually of interest, I would be happy for more of them available in the United Kingdom.

2) Yuri Seijin Naoko-san (2010/2012), two OVAs for the price of one, are a weird but memorable duo. The first is six minutes of pure madness, the second, the length of a regular TV movie, is sedate and sweet even though it is tap dancing a really tasteless joke or two, like the main female alien being attracted to young girls, somehow managing to fall out of the other side positively because of how strange and whimsical it still is, right down to the group of young girls who hire themselves out just to appear on location in the background. Whether this premise could extend to a whole series, which would be fascinating as a what-if. Whilst entirely speculation without reading the source material, I would be enticed if one was made in the near future, abruptly appearing in the 2020s out of the blue.

1) But Key the Metal Idol (1994-7) has to take this award. An insanely ambitious project, what is actually a TV series length narrative told through the OVA medium, with the budget and lack of restrictions to tell a very idiosyncratic and emotional drama, starting from a robot girl who wants to become an idol singer to be able to still exist, only to become much darker and more abstract as the show continues. Its structure and release did cause problems, requiring two feature length final episodes, the first a possible moment that could put off viewers as it needs to deal with all the back-story and plot that was kept at arm's length deliberately before, but the final episode gets surreal, tragic with the death of a specific character, and became a discover for me. Availability is interesting and frustrating - Discotek have released this, and it's one of their few titles to be available on the British Crunchyroll stream, but it is an argument to figure out how on hell I can import anime titles from the States as it really won me over.

#101 to #150 Retrospective [Part 4]: "Guilty" Pleasures of the Year and Best Episodes

"Guilty" Pleasures of the Year

I feel no guilt for many of my tastes, at least for any on this list. There are titles however that have flaws, or even not highly regarded in the slightest, but fulfilled a pleasure for me. Three honourable mentions come to come. Gravion and Gravion Zwei (2002/2004) make up one great series, but the production felt it had to bank on something else to sell a giant robot show to the viewers of the early 2000s, including a castle of buxom maids (and unfortunately little girls too), which is a commercial decision that cannot be defended. (The irony that this leads to the cast mostly being female, and reliable figures, muddies this issue just as much). Amagami SS (2010), a unique spin on the romance story in which you follow six different versions of the tale from six different female characters as the girlfriends, has nothing problematic at all about it but does have an odd air to it due to this premise that cannot be ignored, alongside the fact the OVA bonus episodes failed and brought this issue up. And Lunar Legend Tsukihime (2003), which is an obscure Type-Moon adaptation which has major issues, significant issues, but also many little touches in spite of its generic horror-action story which won me over.

5) Evoking the horror genre, Calamity of a Zombie Girl (2018) was an ONA film which I came to with immensely low expectations, either getting an Island of Giant Insects (2020) or something very bland. Calamity... was much more entertaining and interesting prospect, a dash of the old lurid OVA era of gore and weirdness, only with a bit more unexpected (and likely deliberate) horror and many quirks, something I can appreciate.

4) In the Aftermath (1988), again, is a relic of peculiar context, a re-cut Americanised version of Angel's Egg (1985) which is meant to make more sense of the original art film, only to make even less sense. Contextually, we have never had Angel's Egg itself in the West on physical media, but In the Aftermath inexplicably has. At times it is utterly illogical and ludicrous just in some of the attempts at out-profounding a profound rumination on Oshii's own religious belief, once about to become a Catholic priest before he entered an animation industry and thus having a lot of baggage to un pack. It is however compelling. It is even at times eerie, both for its dreamlike nature, including the live action post apocalypse drama, and for the fact the original animation (especially in high definition) is still exceptional and unlike anything you could encounter.

3) The best way to despite my interest in Gundam Reconguista in G (2014) was that I willingly sacrificed my first ever Gundam work to watch this as the first. Reconguista in G, Yoshiyuki Tomino's attempt at a fun and lighter hearted take on the franchise, is one of the best produced titles I have covered for the last year, as Sunrise will drop the ball on their money maker over the years but put as much resources into each entry as they can, but good luck with the maddening (or pleasingly erratic) plotting and characterisation. For me, it was the latter, a gleefully mad odyssey without logic that I openly admit a perverse pleasure in unlike the other entries on this list.

2) Pupa (2014) is held as one of the worst series released in the 2010s, part of a fun of deliberately seeing a couple of notorious titles. Surprisingly none of them actually got on the Disappointing List - Arcade Fighter Fubuki (2002-3) is not talked about with the same level of infamy as the ones I did cover - as even Mars of Destruction (2005) was entertaining. Pupa, controversially, I will defend. Its biggest weakness is that, when it was originally meant to be regular length episodes, the produced nixed this for ones only a couple of minutes long, which excises so much potential context and layers. The premise however, whilst utterly gross, is too compelling even in this context to dismiss, of a deliberately unsettling incestuous cannibalistic relationship of a brother and sister. The little we get I found fascinating, even in its art style and aesthetic, leaving the fact it was still only minute long episodes the cause of this show being on this list.

1) Also crippled by a fatal production flaw, I confess a love still for X: The Movie (1996). Maybe it's expensive, or unloved, or the song by X-Japan, just before their original version was abruptly disbanded, adds a cost, but Rintaro's theatrical adaptation should be available again just for how gorgeous and moody the film is as animation. It looks incredible in the modern day as a production and, whilst a far more darker and violent take on the CLAMP manga by all accounts, it has a morbid beauty that is enrapturing. Tragically, they made the decision to adapt said CLAMP manga, which was unfinished at the time and would remain unfinished to the modern day with the likelihood it never will, into a film less than ninety minutes. It is still a dark and evocative piece, but obviously it has to get the award because that time crunch plays hell on the plotting.

 

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Best Episode

Sadly we have to include a dishonourable mention for a two part episode of Tesagure! Bukatsumono Spin-off Purupurun Sharumu to Asobou (2015), known technically as "Let's play with werewolves and yuri", but I have called the "Yuriwolf" episodes. From an alumni of the gdgd Fairies series, it involves the cast (in character) playing a game called "Werewolf" but with a yuri slant, part of that older series' tradition of letting the cast improvise on the fly around a silly scenario. The result is u-t-t-e-r-l-e-y tedious, and they even try to bribe the viewer with a bonus game that is a Japanese blu-ray exclusive.

5) The first good episode however helped a less than great series, LunarLegend Tsukihime, improve by stepping away from its generic horror action storyline for episode seven, "Blue Sin Mark". Entirely based around the cast going to a theme park, baring the one moment near the end where a corpse is left on a Ferris Wheel, the main conflict is when the male protagonist's sister and the female vampire/potential love interest are openly hostile to each other when they meet, whilst his school friends including another potential love interest are awkwardly there as this transpires. Eventually leading to a growth and secrets being revealed, it is a needed shot of banality that stands out greatly.

4) Gun X Sword (2005) had a few great episodes - possibly not the one about the matriarchal fortress where everyone still had to wear a bikini, even if it memorable - but I have to go for episode 6, "Light My Fire". Very early in the series, when it is still the first act of a genre masala, where a Western antihero in his wedding suit wanders a sci-fi frontier for revenge, ends out at a coastal town and puts up with a Bonnie and Clyde couple, in their transforming combat car, trying to take his giant robot when all he wants to do is actually eat. This is a great example of when a one off-story, especially for twenty plus episodes like this, can stand out.

3) Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt (2010) has too many great episodes I could have chosen, from the music video to the finale. From the get-go with episode 1a and 1b, as like Cartoon Network shows I grew up with, the episode is split into two different stories, you get both sides of the show immediately, a perfect introduction provided for this series. Yes, the first half, about a poo ghost, is as appropriately gross to start with, but I am thinking specifically of the second half, "Death Race 2010", where the influence of Western animation and how its simpler look allows for movement immediately shows, following a high speed car chase with a literal speed demon. Combined with the fact that the music is already audibly exceptional, and the voice acting from the Japanese cast, and it's an exceptional piece.

2) Also a show with too many good moments, such as the one about why you should never anger the caretaker at any anime high school, Full Metal Panic? Fumoffu (2003) also has episodes usually split into two stories with exceptions, the second part of episode two, "A Fruitless Lunchtime", already winning me over already from the beginning. Following the leads having to dash from school to one of their homes to get study notes, than get back immediately, it has emotional bonding, as the male and female lead are seen clearly as friends and possibly with romantic feelings for each other, especially as these characters in the original Full Metal Panic have had time before in their history to know each other. There is also the perfect comedy deriving from very little which is exceptional, particularly one moment of a slow subtle change in attitude which is a testament to the animators as well. That it manages to have a cameo, or a parody, from an entirely different franchise, You're Under Arrest, just adds an amusing cherry to the cake.

1) But this award had to be for Himote House (2018) and the "Yuri Game of Life", episode 7 "A Journey Like a Prayer". Himote House had problems, a show that from another gdgd Fairies alumni which could have taken more consistency from the older, superior show. Yet from what is an amusing premise, playing The Game of Life whilst lovingly mocking yuri genre clichés, the comedy suddenly gets serious and pulls no punches in tackling the discrimination and treatment of LGBT women in Japanese culture. Even telling you this does not prepare for how effortlessly Himote House pulls this off. Just go find the episode and watch it.