Synopsis: Yoshimura Mamoru has just transferred to a high school for users of a powerful magic called “Beatrice”.  The most powerful Beatrice user at the school is Takasu Ayako, who also has a reputation for being strong, but frightening.  It’s not more than a couple of minutes after Mamoru enters the school for the first time, when Ayako suddenly asks him out.  Between dealing with a student council filled with quirky people and answering Ayako’s request, Mamoru’s time at his new school isn’t going to be an easy one.

The Highlights
Impact: Paved the way for a truckload of new -dere archetypes.
Comedy: The purely slapstick brand of comedy doesn’t cut it anymore.
Romance: Why is the voluptuous tsundere in love with a shota?
Themes: It’s utterly unconvincing to make a story about “the power of love” when the romance itself makes no sense.

I started watching this anime more than three years ago yet could only bring myself to just finish it recently, which says everything about how invested I was in it.  It was a bad anime then but it’s a worse anime now, not because standards have improved (they haven’t, 2006 was probably the best year for anime last decade) but because expectations have shifted.  Anime has changed.  I’ve changed.  Back then, the question “how crap?” fascinated me.  These days, the answer is usually “too crap to care about”.  That pretty much sums up Mamoru-kun ni Megami no Shukufuku wo!.

Tsundere-ism was the in thing back then, the latest freak show.  Anime like Tsuyokiss built their gimmicky premises around the entire concept, and so did Mamoru-kun, promoting Ayako as the so called “megadere”, a tsundere whose tenderness and violence would castrate the competition (in much the same way the traditional tsundere castrated male leads in years prior).  The “megadere” promised much yet delivered little, and while it arguably paved the way for a deluge of novel -dere archetypes (eg, yandere, kuudere), Ayako herself was an insignificant footnote in the tsudere chronicle.  When Lucky Star’s Shiraishi complained of the decay and misuse of the definition of the word “tsundere”, this was the sort of character he was essentially talking about.  Ayako isn’t a tsundere in any legitimate sense of the word because her behaviour is too inconsistent… she’s a blushing, smitten moeblob around Mamoru and a sociopathic brute to everyone else (or would be considered such if the type of physical brutality she transgresses against her classmates wasn’t considered a norm in anime comedies).  The very definition of the word tsundere implies an evolution, but what little character development Ayako gets (which, unfortunately, is the most of any character in this series) barely resembles it.

Was there a reason why Ayako fell in love with a shota?  It didn’t seem to be anything more than arbitrary, and when I don’t understand a romantic coupling in literature, I usually get either bored or suspicious.  And, in this case, I was both.  The voluptuous yet well-meaning girl falling for the unremarkable male lead isn’t uncommon in anime, the wish-fulfillment element of this trope is plainly evident… but a shota?  I’m guessing this plays to some sort of fetish that I simply don’t understand (which is strange, because I thought I understood most fetishes that appear in anime, even the ones I don’t indulge in).

The early filler episodes are of almost no consequence, driven by the mostly inane brand of physical comedy that is grating in most really bad anime, but is ramped up here.  Most of it involves Ayako performing super saiyan (sorry, Beatrice) moves on the student council members who, past the president and vice-president, are completely forgettable.  (The only things that really make the vice-president memorable are her bizarre hair and Noto Mamiko voice).  The story, when it finally kicks in after fits and starts, is convoluted and completely bogged down by mandatory exposition.  Ultimately, the story is about the power of love, or some similarly cringe-worthy theme, so expect lots of sappiness… but by this point, I had long stopped caring.  There were moments I enjoyed and a couple of characters that I almost considered thinking about the possibility of liking, but the vast majority of this anime was either corny, pointless or trite.  I vaguely remember enjoying bits of this anime slightly more three years ago.  Today, I’m more surprised I actually watched the whole thing.

The Rating: 3

Reviewed by: Sorrow-kun

Synopsis: Fresh from winning the Platini International Music Competition, Chiaki Shinichi becomes the new resident conductor of the Roux-Marlet Orchestra, an orchestra with a long history which was the breeding ground of Franz von Stresemann’s talent. To his dismay, he finds Roux-Marlet in shambles, and has to work desperately to rebuild the historical orchestra to its former glory. At the same time, Nodame continues to strive hard at the Paris Conservatoire, pursuing her dream of eventually “catching up” with her beloved Chiaki.

The Highlights
Characters: The spotlight is mostly on Chiaki; Nodame doesn’t get much time, and other characters get even less, though they make good use of what they have.
Pacing: Director Takeuchi has a talent for making time-compressed plot adaptations look concise instead of butchered; a remarkable feat.
Story: Some aspects fall short in the face of the time constraints of the movie format, but other aspects actually thrive.
Music: Classical masterpieces drive the themes and character motivations, just like in the TV series.
Ending: Cliffhangerriffic; this is clearly intended as a setup for more to come.

Being a sequel to the multiple award-winning TV series of 2006, Part 1 of The Final Score is naturally meant for the numerous fans of its predecessor and is not meant to be a self-contained movie in its own right. So how does one work around the tight time constraints of a movie format to cater to the many Nodame Cantabile fans who have fallen in love with the excellent TV series and manga? If you are director Takeuchi Hideki, you do so by serving up a satisfactory piece comprising of what made the series so good in the first place, and then top it with promises of better yet to come.

With only a couple hours to play with and the Chiaki-centric story arc to adapt, something has to face the axe.  And so it does. Chiaki hogs the spotlight of the movie, which focuses mainly on the troubles he faces in rebuilding the Roux-Marlet Orchestra on a tight deadline. This comes at a cost; the titular Nodame herself is sidelined for the most part, and the supporting characters come off as almost peripheral, despite the best attempts of the movie to give them their moments. Even the Chiaki-Nodame dynamic, which is a big draw of the series, doesn’t get too much time either. Although to be fair, Nodame and the other characters do make the best of what time they do get to themselves.

That said, Takeuchi appears to have a talent for working around the time-compression problem wonderfully. The plot of The Final Score Part 1 actually comes across as concise, which is particularly remarkable considering it’s an adaptation of an easily-butchered story arc, as its approximate anime equivalent, Nodame ~Paris~, shows all too well. While it is focusing on the main storyline, the time compression is actually an aid to the movie for driving its themes forward; from the harsh realities of life impinging upon the desire to make music, to the dedication of all involved towards making that music regardless, to the estrangement of two people on very different life paths, the movie uses its time continuity over the episodic format of the TV series to its advantage, developing its themes smoothly into a well-executed conclusion near the end, like any good movie worth its salt.

And part of that thematic development is, undoubtedly, the music; the feature of the works of such classical luminaries such as Ravel, Tchaikovsky, and Bach, and the way the characters relate to the music that they perform, truly proves that Nodame Cantabile is nothing without its classical music. Combined with the outrageously theatrical comedy, as well as the juxtaposition of truly dramatic moments, the movie truly is a worthy, if flawed, sequel to the original TV series.

I will not offer a “Bravo!” for The Final Score Part 1 this time around; partially because of the necessary flaws present in the movie, but mainly because the cliffhanger ending underlies its status as a setup, for what is potentially an explosive Final Movement for the Nodame Cantabile franchise to come in April. It would be rude to applaud prematurely after all; let’s save that for the Grand Finale.

The Rating: 8

Reviewed by: Ascaloth

Synopsis: When a conference with a group of anti-government activists is disrupted by the police, Yozo, the wayward son of a prominent official, finds himself fleeing and hiding in a cafe where a woman down on her luck takes him in. After a night spent in intimacy, they both agree to commit suicide, except Yozo manages to survive the plunge into the sea and becomes, in his mind, a murderer. So starts “No Longer Human,” a part of the Aoi Bungaku series which adapts six works of Japanese literature written by four 20th century Japanese authors.

The Highlights
“No Longer Human”: Artwork and presentation gives off a Kafka-esque atmosphere.
“In the Woods Beneath the Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom”: Anachronistic, bizarre, and very unsettling.
“Kokoro”: I enjoyed their use of multiple perspectives to give a complete picture.
“Run, Melos!”: Heart-wrenching, but beautifully executed.
“The Spider’s Thread”: Graphically detailed.
“Hell Screen”: Purists might chafe at the rewrites.

That Aoi Bungaku is using classic stories from Japanese literature provides it with a firm foundation that allows it to cater to a mature audience looking for narratives exploring the human condition. But while the stories themselves may have withstood the test of time as a piece of text, the key to making a good anime adaptation lies in the studio’s treatment of the material. Here, Madhouse’s reputation for putting in solid outings shows in the way it brings these stories to life, creating an engrossing experience for both Japanese literary neophytes and those who are familiar with the works being presented.

Had Aoi Bungaku been a word for word retelling of these great works, the series might not have been as remarkable. But Madhouse’s treatment runs the gamut of making a few tweaks to revamping the background details entirely in a given work and for the most part, they succeed in retaining what makes the stories engaging. Granted, not all of the experiments will pay off. For example, the first half of the adaptation of Akutagawa’s “The Spider’s Thread” is brutish and violent and lingers a bit too long in driving home the point that the principal character, Kandata, is irredeemably evil. However, Madhouse makes up for that through the fluid animation, and, later on, in their depiction of Kandata’s vision of hell, with its surreal, chaotic happenings.

One instance where Madhouse manages to recontextualize the work entirely is in another Akutagawa work, this one titled “Hell Screen.” The original work focuses upon a painter’s descent into madness as he becomes so obsessed in capturing the image of hell that he commits atrocities just to be able to depict it accurately. Aoi Bungaku’s version of the painter puts him in the role of a rebel who willfully defies his lord’s orders to draw a beautiful picture of a kingdom and instead, paints the ugly truths that the lord wishes to conceal. Though the message may be slightly different in this instance, it is still a compelling one nonetheless as we sympathize with the artist’s steadfast belief in bringing the truth to light.

Of the works presented, the best one by far adapts Dazai Osamu’s, “Run, Melos!” to include a parallel story. Originally taken from an ancient Greek tale between Moerus and Selinuntius, Aoi Bungaku centers upon a playwright in charge of writing the script for an upcoming stage adaptation of “Run, Melos!” and it is his struggle to complete the story that makes this story such a fascinating one. Through his eyes and his recollections of the past, we see how pained he is by his friend’s seeming betrayal, and how that memory tortures him as he writes the script. The depths of his despair drive the drama and when paired alongside “Melos”, results in a heartrending, but in the end, redeeming story that is not easily forgotten.

The commonality that links each of these stories is a focus on individual suffering ranging from Shigemaru’s madness in “In the Woods Beneath the Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom”, to the uncomfortable breach that develops between the characters in “Kokoro”, to Yozo’s suicidal tendencies in “No Longer Human”. But even more than that, these stories open a window into the soul of their respective authors and the struggles that they dealt with. The themes that these series touch upon are universal and identifiable, demonstrating their staying power through these adaptations in a way that renders them literary masterpieces.

The Rating: 8

Reviewed by: zzeroparticle

Synopsis: His name is Brandon Heat. Or at least it was. Brought back to life after 14 years, he is now Beyond the Grave. With his sudden resurrection comes the interest of the ruthless Millennion Organization and its even crueler leader Harry McDowell, who seeks to send Brandon to the grave once more. But behind this small war is the story of two young men seeking favor with the mafia, the ambition that further united them, and the betrayal that tore them apart.

The Highlights
Dynamic: This is how friendship should be done.
Animation: Brilliant, but cuts too many corners.
Music: Stylish violin solos.
Themes: Overstated, but well presented.
First episode: If you don’t like it, watch the second one.
Pathos: If this anime doesn’t leave you speechless, then there’s something wrong with you.

I really hate Gungrave right now. After positive review upon positive review, I get the feeling that I give them out a tad too easily. I wish I could be a tad more jaded. And then an anime like this shows up and anything less than absolute praise would be an understatement. No anime should be this good. No video game adaptation deserves to even be good. The very pathos that Gungrave manages to tap is so earth shattering, that it’s absolutely frightening.

If one cannot believe that Gungrave’s source material was a third person shooter for the PS2, I wouldn’t blame them. Forgoing a predictable video game style, this anime goes straight for the cinematic. Dialog wise, this is quite the melodramatic anime, and in the best possible sense. However, more often than not, it is the moments that lie in complete silence that say the most. Scenes are initiated by poignant writing (particularly the words of the stoic Brandon Heat), but it is the sound of gunfire and the accompaniment of a sexy violin score that serve as this anime’s propellant.

Considering Gungrave’s subject matter, one would assume the series would be populated primarily by irredeemable scum. In a lesser anime maybe, or perhaps one desperate to distinguish itself. In contrast, this series takes violence and corruption as a matter of fact, letting the story influence the characters, but never define them. Cop out, maybe; however, one can hardly argue with results. Brandon may be a ruthless hitman with relationship problems and Harry, a backstabbing megalomaniac. But in spite of all of that, they are first and foremost human, and nothing that either of them does can ever change that fact.

Though when watching, do not forget that this Gungrave is still a video game adaptation, and thus on principle must be greatly flawed in one way or another. Though the issues here are a result of an overabundance of substance rather than an utter lack there of. As good as this anime is, it is not particularly tight. On a technical level, Gungrave may offer among the most intense gunfights in the medium. But looking past the stylish centerpieces, the bland backgrounds and faceless characters only make it distressingly noticeable how many shortcuts the animation department took.

And of course, there is no addressing Gungrave’s over ambition more than its dreaded pilot episode. In the scope of the anime fandom, saying don’t be put off by this particular first impression is no doubt redundant. However, the episode’s unfavorable impression paradoxically makes the remainder of the series light years better, for non-relativistic purposes. Where episode one creates a dark, detached world that is near impossible to care about, episode two onwards contrasts this perfectly with a setting and characters that forces one to be emotionally invested at the deepest possible level. With each episode, the first becomes more and more unbelievable as the inevitable twist becomes harder and harder to believe.

So what does this all make Gungrave? In line with the cynicism of it all, I would say a video game inspired, mafia centered, science fiction revenge thriller. Though I am not so cynical as to say that this is what Gungrave is about. If anything, it’s the exact opposite of the aforementioned statement. An emotional rollercoaster above all else, Gungrave will play with your feelings before crushing them into a pool of your own tears.

The Rating: 9

Reviewed by: Kavik Ryx

Synopsis: Yamashita Kohei is one of Japan’s best trapeze artists, but his recent performances haven’t gone well. The circus master, concerned about Kohei’s wellbeing, specifically his sleeping habits, sends him to a psychiatrist. However the doctor he visits, Irabu Ichiro, is no ordinary shrink. Dr. Irabu has his nurse, Mayumi, give Kohei an injection, which has immediate results…

The Highlights
Aesthetics: Between the rotoscoping, artstyle and colour scheme, highly unconventional.
Main characters: Dr. Irabu is eccentric plus; Mayumi, strangely enough, is the closest thing in this anime to a normal person.
Episodic characters: Interesting and well developed, but not exactly memorable.
Substance: The style is slightly misleading, as the subject matter is grounded and relevant.
Ending: Resonant.

Trapeze initially appears as a bizarre anime, and while it is certainly unique, past its hugely unconventional visual style is a relatively straightforward set of episodic stories. I say “relatively”, because the types of stories and situations this series deals with aren’t typical for anime at all (unless, for some bizarre reason, your only exposure to anime has been hard-hitting, grounded Noitamina series and similarly mature titles). Trapeze is a quirky take on a handful of very real psychological problems, but it’s aware enough not to be distracted by (or make a distraction of) its eye-catching visual style. Underneath it all is a very interesting set of commentaries about society and people which only work in Japan, late ‘00s.

Watch Trapeze, and you’ll see a one-of-a-kind anime. Its mixture of animation and live-action is unlike anything else… rotoscoping, a technique which has probably been seen in anime less often than the Clippers have made the NBA playoffs, is used extensively. Actors are utilized frequently and in their haphazard appearances throughout the series, their faces and features are overlaid with dull textures and thick cartoon-y lines. Even beyond this the execution is unconventional… the eccentric Dr. Irabu has three forms, apparently representing each of part of Freud’s model of the psyche: the id, ego and super-ego; meanwhile Fukuicchi fills in the audience’s mental health knowledge gaps by literally drilling through the fourth wall. Extras look like cardboard cut-outs, while the backgrounds are covered in bright, flamboyant colours and modernistic polka-dot patterns, the type of which wouldn’t be out of place on a pair of underpants, but are completely out of place on the buildings and walls that they appear on.

Then again, on a superficial level, so much in this series is out of place for an anime. Despite its whacky presentation, its subject matter is real and relevant. It’s only at the surface and at the outset of each episode where Trapeze is absurd; in pretty much every episode, the array of mental health issues the characters face make way for something deeper and more insightful… cases involving insomnia, erectile dysfunction (one of the funniest episodes), OCD and the yips go on to focus on much tougher issues like xenophobia, divorce, family breakdown and growing old. The characters are almost all believable and analyzed closely, and the show has a very aware grasp of modern Japanese society, and the unique problems people face as they continue to drift apart.

I guess, ultimately, my problem with the show is that none of the episodic characters are strongly memorable. While the show has its clever and insightful moments, nothing really lingers for more than a couple of episodes (other than the brilliantly resonant note that the series ends on). The characters occupy the couch for their episode and remain interesting for that time, but the show expends too much energy using them as commentaries for the wider societal problems faced by modern Japan, which doesn’t give them their full opportunity to make their mark. I guess the fact that they’re constantly overshadowed by Irabu and Mayumi (the most mentally sound of the characters) doesn’t help either. The episodes are all obliquely interlinked, but only one of these connections is at all meaningful, which makes me wonder “why bother” except to try to look clever. There are better “unconventional” (bordering on pretentious, but I’m only rarely adverse to pretentious works) anime, but there is certainly no other anime quite like Trapeze.

The Rating: 7

Reviewed by: Sorrow-kun