Aren't they adorable?

We get a flashback of a time when the three siblings were children to start off the episode. The backdrop is that a storm is raging, all the ambulances have been dispatched, and Himari is sick and needs to get to the hospital. Their father, realizing the situation, decides to do what a good father should do: rush your child to the hospital in the middle of a storm. The two brats, Shoma and Kanba, decide to follow their father out of worry for their little sister.

"I wanna go!"

Just a small bit of interesting insight into this. Have you noticed that something is always holding Shoma back from doing what he wants to do for Himari? From previous episodes, we have his sense of morals, obviously absent in Kanba, which prevents him from taking any extreme measures unless persuaded into it by his brother.  The conflict between his sense of what is “right” and what is “wrong” has been the centerpiece of conflict between the brothers, who otherwise don’t seem to be at odds much too often. And now, we’ve added another dimension: Shoma is physically unable to go to the extent that Kanba is able to, for whatever reason (in this case, his mother).

Once Kanba gets to his father, he calls out to him, and something (presumably a window) carried by the wind comes out and shatters ambiguously. And then the always-loved opening sequence begins its reel.

And so, we’re back in the present, watching Himari knit in the hall of the hospital while waiting for Shoma, who’s inside talking to the doctor about Himari’s recovery. In the background, a girl with black pantyhose walks by carrying a bouquet for a person. Interestingly enough, Shoma actually brings up the topic of the hat, which the doctor laughs off as a joke. He obviously hasn’t seen enough anime.

I would say this is symbolic, but "durrrr"

Not much wait is required before we see that Ms. Pantyhose (Natsume) is visiting the girl wearing the red shoes (Asami) that was pushed down the escalators yesterday. They enter a conversation about who pushed Asami down the escalators. It’s interesting to note that in the last episode, someone wearing black pantyhose was standing behind Asami as she fell down the escalator.

Quite an interesting set of shots here. As they delve deeper in Asami’s memory, the lighting becomes more dramatic, and the camera shifts to accomodate a tilted angle. I think it’s an interesting choice, using a tilted angle in addition to a far shot (far shots are typically used in film to indicate objectivity and truth, which Asami cannot grasp). And then, all of a sudden, she remembers, and we cut to a shot of the white flowers. Asami’s answer is ambiguous, saying that she saw “him” before she was pushed down the escalators. Interesting. Natsume proclaims that she has “heard enough”, and proceeds to take out a ball with a penguin inscribed upon it, put it on a laser-sighted slingshot, and aim it towards Asami’s head before we cut away from the scene. So, who exactly did she see?

I feel that the previous question is not as important to figuring out what is happening/going to happen as the following two. The questions to be asked here is whether or not Natsume wants Asami to really remember, and what exactly the penguin ball does. If the idea that Natsume pushed Asami is correct, it would contrary to Natsume’s interest that Asami remember. And in any case, what Asami remembers isn’t about Natsume, but rather an unspecified “kare”. Why does Natsume chose to fire a penguin ball at Asami (which I assume is a malicious action) after she remembers? I fear that there are way too many possible answers to the second question, and I’ll sit back until I get some more evidence to support any idea. Next episode is going to be an incredibly important one.

Now on to the flowers. I love flower symbolism ala Utena, and it’s these little flairs that make give a great insight into what Ikuhara prioritizes and puts to the foreground. The different colours of roses have many different meanings. The white rose is symbolic of purity, unity, marriage, and love. I take it that the flowers here represent the state of unity and love; that way, everything falls into place. The single flower falling from the bouquet here serves a double purpose: Asami’s remembrance would be of a betrayal, thus the use of the pronoun “kare” that she uses; and what Natsume is about to do is in betrayal of Asami’s expectations of her.

And so we see that the siblings are in financial straights about the house, and Kanba is working to find a way to keep the payments rolling in, and shows his determination in a fit of indignation.

Cutting to Ringo, we see that she has a date with her father. This is an a very juicy scene. From the get-go, we get a reference to a certain work that people who have either watched Elfen Lied or are connoisseurs of modern art will recognize: “The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt.

Klimt's most famous work.

Let’s talk about “The Kiss” before I tie it back to talking about the show. First of all, there are many, many interpretations of this work. The most prominent one is the interpretation of the art being a measure of the liberation (found in the extravagance of the gold, and the positioning on the cliff) of love, in a sexualized context (the shape of a penis). Simply said, the picture depicts the richness that is capable of being pulled from sexuality. The woman embraces the man and lets go of all restraint into his hands, hands which direct her lips to his. The difference in clothing helps to accent the difference as man and woman, but the fact that they are both strictly geometric accent the humane love in the depiction.

A less popular one, one which I believe is most accurate, is that in which the female is unwilling. In my opinion, the female’s face is not an expression of pleasure.The man is dominating over the woman, his hands at her head and neck, forcing “the kiss” from her, and she is unwillingly giving in. His crown is indicative of the dominance of a king, a regal presence. The garb that the man is dressed in, rectangles, compared to tangent circles of the woman’s clothes accent the opposition. In my view, everything becomes malicious – it sees the cliff as, rather than a romantic and liberating presence, the fact that the woman is cornered and on her knees, with no recourse.

Of course, there’s a lot more to the analysis to this picture, extending to the medium, the metaphysical, and even choice of material. But admittedly there are people far more qualified to speak of these aspects, and I digress.

Pengidrum's version

Obviously, the version put into Penguindrum is a much, much more romantic version. It would be impossible for me to justify that this version does not borrow on the “love” interpretation of “The Kiss”.  In Pengidrum, we see Ringo leaning up towards Tabuki, who’s face is fully seen and loving. The embrace takes a romantic turn now that the “man” of the picture does not overbear into the female. It fits wonderfully in that, as forced on to the viewer from last episode, Ringo is the “starry eyed” dreamer, and a romantic scenario just as this is perfect for her. I believe that this also presents intentional irony on Ikuhara’s part. In the original interpretation, which this takes after, the woman lets go into the man’s controlling hands. Ringo, in Penguindrum, is the commanding force of her one-sided romance – she uses her hands to force her love into becoming “destiny” or truth. While the reference to the picture can be taken as a joke (and to some extent, I don’t doubt that this is also meant to be somewhat humorous), I feel that, reflecting on what I’ve said up to know about this picture, this is a pretty sad picture. It shows just how desperate Ringo is.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE.

Then Ringo’s father goes to answer a phone call. I have some speculation as to Ringo and her father. Why is he not using the penguin key chain, if Ringo said they all have matching key chains? It doesn’t seem like he remembers past events, either. This forces me to raise the question: is she really his daughter, and did those events in the past that Ringo claims happened, really happen?

Not sure if this is a reference... I'll call it "Mother".

And then we get a shot of this piece of artwork that’s in the restaurant Ringo and her father are at. At this point, I might be grasping at nothing, but I believe that the following sequence is in line for some incredibly heavy foreshadowing. I prefer to break the picture up into two parts. The first part is the part with the five at the bottom on the picture. I believe that a reference to Himari and her brothers is intended here, and the spoof of her radiant forehead as being the halo of the angel is brilliant. Ringo, as being taken up into the “family” as Himari did in episode 3, is likely the cherub going up to Himari. The stars help me consider that one to be Ringo. So, the question to be asked is, who is the one left in the cloud?

Now for the second part, which I say is the one with the four cherubs playing in the cloud above. It seems like they’re having fun, and the number are four. Four, as in Shoma, Kanba, Himari, and Ringo in the “family”? Well, I certainly don’t hope so, because….

This is what is on top of Ringo’s version of “The Kiss”. Note that here, we have four as well, and that this can apply to either the first half or the second half of the previous picture. The choice to separate this unto a different work is a clever one, as it’s decisively out-of-place in “The Kiss”, thus suggesting that it truly doesn’t belong there. Of course, we have to raise the question: is everything in “The Kiss” to be taken as a whole, or separate? I believe that anything in “The Kiss” is to be taken after course from “Mother”, as the embrace of that kind is Ringo’s ultimate goal, whereas she has been accepted into the family already. I also believe that Ikuhara’s choice to separate the main part of “The Kiss” from this ominous scene was to suggest a discontinuity – “here are the possibilities”, so to speak. So, is this the second or the first half of “Mother”? If it’s the first half (the one with Himari’s halo), then it could be taken as representation that Ringo’s choice to be accepted will cost her dearly (the influence of siblings will be a tragic one). Don’t ever forget the notion of “fate”: we have three grim reapers here; they carry the notion of the “timely death”. If it’s the second half, then it could be the interpretation of the first, but there’s also the possibility that it’s not the main character group. Interesting. I look forward to seeing if it actually plays out like this.

Well, OK, now back to plot.

Knows more (higher), but is left outside. Great shot here.

I’m really glad we’re back to Ringo’s creepy stalker antics. It’s just forcing Ringo deeper and deeper into desperation, and I like that kind of build up. I really do feel sorry for her, though.

After some more flashbacking with Kanba (and underhanded dealings), we’re at the siblings’ place, and Ringo, Shoma, and Himari are having a meal together. I personally love the differences between Shoma’s and Kanba’s methods of getting at things. Shoma decides to play the “good guy” and asks Ringo if he might be able to borrow her diary. Naturally, she refuses, asserting that her fate is written in it, and therefore she needs to keep it on her at all times. She turns the tables on Shoma, then asking his reasons for needing the diary. He begins to explain, and like any sane person, Ringo doesn’t believe it. And then SEIZON SENRYAKU.

Jesus Christ, how horrifying.

And thus marks the first time that Ringo’s ever gone into what I like to call Boushi-sama’s dreamscape. Frankly, I love how in-charge Boushi-sama is in this scene, and verbal abuse is always fun to watch. At the same time, there’s a rather important thing to take out of this conversation: it appears that Boushi-sama doesn’t know what the Penguin Drum is. She refers to Ringo’s diary not as the Penguin Drum, but rather the “Future Diary”. I think the only reason she’s demanding it is because Shoma shows particular interest in it. Perhaps she/he/it too was sent on a mission to retrieve it for a greater power, and doesn’t know what it is? After a bit of arguing, Ringo is sent down the hole Shoma has been sent every time the transformation scene occurred.

I love how powerful her presence is...

OGINOME

RINGO

TOTAL

BADASS

Well, as you can see, it’s become somewhat of a pleasure of mine to see the ways in which Boushi-sama has all the power over the twins, and yet is still vulnerable (this) and helpless (doesn’t know everything, and can’t do everything). Of anything, I think Ikuhara’s female characters are the most interesting, in that they show incredible strength of will. Ringo has phenomenal strength of will, it’s just difficult to see it sometimes because of Ikuhara’s style.

Ringo, being the hot-headed girl she is, throws the hat outside into the rain. Of course, she doesn’t know the consequences of this, and what is previously ridiculous then transforms into “oh boy” as the audience realizes that the hat is important. Shoma meets Kanba, and Kanba goes off to get the hat off of the car. It’s worth noticing here that Shoma is, just like back when he was a kid, unable physically to keep up the chase for “Himari”.

And so, after Kanba is done being a TOTAL BADASS (gee, sure is a lot of badassery going on around here, lately), he manages to bring back the hat and it’s a happy ending for the day. Well, after being dragged around the city on the back of a speeding car that has to have broken at least 10 city ordinances. But hey, already mentioned that this wasn’t going to be physically consistent in my last post.

At the end, Kanba mentions to his uncle that he managed to secure the funds to continue living in the house…

At what price?

So what now? We’re stuck with far more questions that we began the episode with. What’s Natsume’s ultimate goal? Did she really push Asami down the stairs? What do the penguin balls do? What is the price of Kanba’s money? The penguins, like I mentioned in my last post, act as the guiding force alongside the path to “destiny”. I’d assume the print of a penguin on something has to with fate.

And I’d prefer it no other way. I enjoy the stylistic ride that Ikuhara presents, and I can’t wait until everything is put into the light. The next episode will be of incredible importance to the series, and I’m very much looking forward to Boushi-sama’s reaction to what Ringo just did. It’s too bad we have to wait two weeks for it. 

Something big is going to come, I can feel it.

Geppu

What I want to talk about today is the idea of sense. While I had the intention to do this post later in the series, the third episode has arrived to the point where I must talk about this now, since I’ll be using aspects of this post in my later posts. To first do this, however, let me go off and first explain plot design. Bear with me here, since this is some good stuff if you haven’t seen it, and it might be a good refresher if you have. And yes, this does run deeper than what you learned in eighth grade, trust me.

You have to remember, before I begin, the founding idea behind Freytag’s triangle. It is wholly arguable how many acts are in a plot structure, and that’s not the point. The point of the triangle is to remind you that a plot always has a beginning, middle, and an end. There is always a build up until the initiating action, a build up of tension and conflict, a climax, and the resolution. Also, I feel that clarification is necessary for the term “plot”, as many people have the term misconstrued due to it being schooled incorrectly into (fuck you, split infinitives) them from a young age. The term plot is used to define the writer’s choice of events in a story, and how they are arranged in their presentation. This is not always linear, as I will go into later. Also, note that Slice-of-Life shows do not fall under any of the following three major plot designs. They fall under what I like to call the “no plot”. It is exactly as it says: there is no plot besides life as it is presented in the show.

Yuno what it is.

In grand course of plot structure, the most largely recognizable is the classical plot structure. This is what you learned in middle school, and has been drilled into you ever since. This the structure you will observe in 70% of any story that you partake in. It’s the structure you see back all the way in ancient literature (the Epic of Gilgamesh and Don Quixote) to modern film (Inception, The Dark Knight, Iron Man) to modern anime (Rose of Versailles, Code Geass, Death Note, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood). But what exactly does the idea of the “classical structure” mean? The classical story design is contains the following elements: an active set of protagonist(s) that share the same goal and motivation, an active external set of antagonist(s), a chronologically ordered plot, an established set of rules that the reality of the story must and will follow, reasons for things happening, and an ending that completely satisfies all character motivations and leaves nothing important to the characters up to question. It’s notable that in anime, these tend to be the long 24 episode or even three-four cour shows.

And before you get your nickers in a bunch about me listing Inception and Code Geass with “an ending that satisfies all…nothing up to question,” let me explain to you why, in the following sentences, they are classically structured. [MASSIVE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE TWO, SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS]. It doesn’t matter if the end of Inception is a dream or not; all that matters is that Cole doesn’t care, as long as he can be with his children. He’s reached his goal, is content, and you should be as well. If you’re one of the ones that likes to bicker over whether it was a dream or not at the end, you’ve missed the point of that beautiful ending action completely. As for Code Geass: Lelouch is dead. And even if he wasn’t dead, which he is, he has achieved his goal by the end of the story, and like the example with Inception, you’ve missed the point if you argue HE’S ALIVE or HE’S DEAD.

We need to go deeper.

The second most popular plot design in usage today is the minimalistic plot design, which I would say takes up about 25% of the stories currently out there. Like the name implies, it is a minimal version of the classical film structure. But what about it, exactly, makes it minimal? The largest factor is that it, more often than not, has multiple sets of protagonists, each with separate goals and motivations. The reason it is minimal is that it carries the same weight as a classically designed story, yet it puts less attention to the small things and only briefly goes over the bare minimum necessary. The largest conflicts present themselves in the internal level of the protagonists, although external antagonist does play a role, and thus the protagonists are generally more passive than ones of classically designed plots. The most distinguishing aspect of the minimalistic plot is that it carries what is called an open ending. An open ending is not to be confused with a plot hole. An open ending is an ending which, for whatever reason, points of the plot are left open to interpretation and the characters’ actions by the end can be carried in multiple ways. All interpretations must be able to be logically inferred and supported by the show’s own internal logic. Aside from documentaries, such as Waltz With Bashir, it is incredibly rare to find a purely minimalist plot, but when I say 25%, I generally mean mixtures between minimalistic and classical plot design that lean closer to minimalism. Examples of this mix from anime include Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Samurai Champloo.

We need to go wider.

The third, rarest form of plot design is the  anti-classical plot. The anti-classical plot design is exactly what is written on the tin: it is opposite the classical design. If you would like to think about it so, he classical design is logical and tightly pasted together. The anti-classical design takes that logical design plan of the classical and rips it apart, morphing the subject matter to the discretion of the writer. The three major hallmarks of an anti-classical plot design is that the story is plotted in a blurry and erratic line of temporal continuity, reasons for events are not necessarily a reason and may even be fully disconnected from the events at hand (coincidence), and that the rules of the world that were established are repeatedly broken – characters often contradict earlier developments and plot events may be transformed from sensible to nonsensical. However, these are all intentional on the part of the writer. It is too often that the inconsistent reality of anti-classicism is mistaken for plot holes. Every choice made by the writer is made not to reflect “natural” story circumstances, such as in the classical design, but to express a message or serve as pieces of the writer’s imagination manifesting itself concretely in the story. Most of the actions taken by characters here are symbolic in nature, or completely exaggerated to express a message. Dialogue is usually awkward and unnatural. In short, this is an abstract reflection of the writer’s idea of life. These works are held consistent by their inconsistency. Most works that are deconstructive, satirical, contain aspects of magic realism, or postmodern readily fall into this type of plot design. Some great examples here from film are 8 1/2, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and Memento. From anime, you can observe films such as Paprika, or shows such as Serial Experiments Lain and Revolutionary Girl Utena.

Of course, these are not mutually exclusive. For example, Neon Genesis Evangelion is a wonderful example of a show, which is a deconstruction (yes, in the truest sense of the word, and not the definition by which Puella Magi Madoka Magica is considered a “deconstruction”), that belongs as a mixture between the classical, minimalistic, and the anti-classical. Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a mix between minimalistic and classical. Clannad contains both the no plot and the classical. Kara no Kyoukai as a series is classical and anti-classical.

Now, which do you think is the “best” type of story design? The truth is, they all have potential for greatness. It’s too often I see, especially in the newer generation of “critical thinkers”, that people consider the anti-classical the greatest way. These kinds of shows lend themselves to the “elite” who can understand it, and thus in some way facilitate elitism. They openly denounce shows that aren’t “deep”. Trust me, there are incredibly deep classically designed works, such as Ikiru, that are not overtly symbolic the way they like it. On the same vein, there are those who don’t want to take the effort to understand the implications of many anti-classical works, and thus declare them as “pretentious”. I absolutely loathe that word. It seems that the word has passed into the common usage as almost synonymous with symbolic. The word means: “attempting to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, culture, etc., than is actually possessed” – in other words, a work that is symbolic for a internally consistent and purposeful reason is not pretentious. And yes, it is a negative term.

While it’s true that different designs appeal to each viewer, people fail to understand that neither is greater than the other. For example, I love, love, love symbolism and the nuances of literary and cinematographic analysis. This is one of the reasons why one of the only two shows I have ever given my highest assigned score is Revolutionary Girl Utena. I love works like The Sound and the Fury, and Ghost in the Shell. However, for me to say that they reach the cinematographic brilliance of Citizen Kane; the emotional power of Casablanca, The Grave of the Fireflies, or Arcadia; the level of the gentle yet thunderous conflict in Princess Mononoke; the genius of visual novel medium that is Ever17; the sheer gripping power of Muv-Luv Alternative or Full Metal Alchemist; or the humanity present in Ikiru and Time of Eve would be a horrible lie. All of the works I just listed are mixes of classically and minimalistically  designed masterpieces.

So why did I write the above 1772 words, without even a mention of Mawaru Penguindrum until the end? Well, let me tell you why: because to understand how Ikuhara does his works, you need to understand anti-classical plot structure. And, that Mawaru Penguindrum is subtly (or overtly, depending on how much you can suspend your disbelief) anti-classical in nature.

Case 1: The Penguins

This is something I’ve been keeping track of ever since the penguins arrived. What exactly are the circumstances in which the penguins may make contact with the “real” world? I say this because it’s rather nonsensical, if you’ve observed it up to this point. For example, in episode two, Shoma’s penguin actively touched  Ringo’s friend’s derriere. However, she felt that contact, and yet could not feel the penguin she was stepping on under her foot? What’s up with that? How do the penguins carry physical equipment such as flashlights and cameras, and are unable to be seen by anyone other than the Takakura siblings? Wouldn’t anyone notice that food is disappearing, magazines are floating around, and cameras are flying through the air?  The point where I knew I had to point this out was when the penguin hit the cat in episode 3, grabbed its fish, got attacked, and rolled into Ringo, tripping her over and causing a great turning point in the story in which Ringo and Himari are now good friends.

Clearly, the logic of the penguin’s interactions with the physical world are inconsistent. But, if this is truly anti-classicism at work, why is Ikuhara intentionally making the interactions so inconsistent? I believe the answer lies in the fact that the penguins are a force of Ikuhara’s “destiny” and “fate”. Remember, certain notions of “destiny” declare that the road up to the final destination may be altered, but the ultimate end is always the same. Note that nearly all events important to the plot for meeting new characters with the siblings has taken place with the presence of the penguins and their direct interaction with the world. So, what’s the overall idea? The reason why the penguins’ interactions with the physical reality are inconsistent is because they only exist in order to push events towards the destiny, forcing events to happen that will lead to an ultimate outcome. The interpretation of destiny in this work is clearly that the “road” to the “destination” can be taken several ways, and its in these moments of choosing the “fork in the road” that the penguins intervene physically. The penguins are the Fates, and Ikuhara is using anti-classical elements to accent this.

Case 2: Episode 3's Transformation

OK, hold up. WHY in the world are Kanba and Shoma considering that Himari’s work is that of an illusion, now, of all times? Judging from the reactions inside the scene, it can’t be just chalked up to “being a test”. This should have happened by the second transformation scene, if it were to happen in any case. Actually, isn’t it entirely possible that this scene isn’t in the chronological order, and that it originally is supposed to be the second transformation scene that the brothers have witnessed? Judging from the interactions, this seems entirely possible.

So, why are we being shown this now, of all times? I believe it is simply to further the audience’s confusion. A general sense of confusion, delayed. Odd, but I’ll see where Ikuhara plans to go with this one.

I think it goes without saying that PengiDrum is one of the most talked about shows of the 2011 summer anime season. I’m sure I’m missing a lot of bloggers’ insight on the show, as well as forum discussion as I’m rather limited in my scope for forums, but it seems that way.

That having been said, I immensely enjoyed the second episode of Penguindrum. And I mean, way more than I probably should have. The character interactions throughout the episode as a whole were charming, and the penguins were awesome. I strongly suggest that before reading this post, you complete the viewing of episodes 1 and 2, as there are going to be huge spoilers here.

I love the word "fate."

Quickie on the choice of a toilet as the opening image for this episode. I believe it was chosen for the fact that when you flush a toilet, all the contents of the toilet head towards a singular location. Call it a stretch, but I think it’s a nice, fanciful idea that the water in the toilet would represent “the world”, so to say. The stars? Note that in the opening image, the number is 4. There are four important characters up to this point. Perhaps the stars coming out of the toilet suggest that the four “stars” of the world are escaping the mandatory? Something to think about.

And so, the second episode starts out with the focus of the episode, Ringo Oginome, giving us her speech on “fate.” Right off the bat, the most noticeable thing is that her perspective of fate is completely contrary to that of Shoma’s, to which we were treated to at the beginning of episode 1. Long story short, she loves the notion of fate. Let’s take a look at each of the main characters’ perspectives on fate.

Kanba - Judging from his actions after Himari’s death, it’s rather obvious that Kanba views tragedies as something “that happens,” although the subtext runs contrary to his demeanor in that scene. He appears to be deterministic in his view of fate, but only on the outside.

Shoma - Shoma bears much in difference to Kanba’s interpretation of fate. Shoma doesn’t actively rebel against the notion of fate, per say, but he finds that the idea is one that is sad, and from the scene following Himari’s death, he wants to be able to. As he says in his episode 1 opening segment, if there is such a thing as fate, then God is truly a cruel minister. 

Ringo - As I stated above, Ringo loves fate. However, her view of fate stems from a romantic notion, that of “fated encounters.” To further compound her understanding of the notion, she shrugs off the “bad things” that happen due to fate, instead bouncing it off the Principle of Sufficient Reason. 

Intriguing. We have three different characters with three differing views of fate. “But what about Himari,” you might ask? Himari is a special case, as she is the subject of the fate at hand in this show. We’ve yet to see any expression on her part regarding the idea of fate, and yet, she’s obviously the one most affected by the ordeal.

Alright, we’re back to (almost) normal, after the insanity of the first episode. We still have the penguins floating around all the time (including RAID Pengi, who is the most awesome penguin).

Nevermind. Well, now we’re pitted back into Boushi-sama’s (Nadine wasn’t her name, apparently) world, and she establishes the task that she wants the brothers to perform. Interesting to note about the brothers’ reactions is this: Shoma remarks his lamentation that “last night wasn’t a dream”, whereas Kanba immediately gets to the point and demands that Boushi-sama give him the information necessary to find the Penguindrum. By diametrically opposing their reactions, Ikuhara further elongates the rift between the two characters’ views of fate. Recall back when Himari died, Kanba was planning on what “to do”, rather than “what happened”? Boushi-sama’s interest lies in the future, and thus she sees Kanba as the more suitable candidate. She wants the boys to meet Oginome Ringo, who apparently has the Penguindrum that Boushi-sama desires.

"She has the Penguindrum"

...probably.

I think this small exchange was masterful. From her declaration that Ringo will be carrying the Penguindrum, we gain a sense of superiority and confidence. In cinematography, this is the classic “villain” shot – a shot from a low angle focusing the subject’s face that is usually shaded in some fashion. The shot is used precisely because the idea that the physical high ground (height or location) can translate unconsciously to a sign of “power.” Even better: this shot is taken from the brothers’ perspective. Is Boushi-sama necessarily the villain? No. However, does she appear to be one to the brothers? Yes.

It’s from this platform of confidence that she degrades her position to that of uncertainty with that “probably” in the next shot. Not only has Ikuhara assuaged the menace that could be interpreted from her “classic villain” shot, but he revealed something very important about Boushi-sama. What/oever it is, it only comes from the “destination” of fate. It does not know what happens alongside the way, in the classic notion of a destiny. Her exclamation and execution implies that there is no way to change the “destination” or the “end”. But the question is, if the means to the future CAN be permutable, like her “probably” suggests, can the “end” actually be changed should conditions be right?

Pretty standard anime stuff after that, penguin shenanigans while the boys wait to see Ringo. Shoma gets accused of being a molester, and Kanba drops in to save the day with his good looks and manly charm.

RAID Penguin continues to be awesome. So they see Ringo on the train, courtesy of the girl to whom that rear above belongs to, and decide to follow her to her school. Kanba pulls up a database on the all-girls school, numbers the penguins, and sends them in to do some reconnaissance.

In the process, we get a dialogue between Kanba and Shoma, once again setting up why I believe that Kanba was chosen instead of Shoma by Boushi-sama. Shoma is concerned with the present actions that the penguins are doing, as he feels that they are not morally correct. Kanba, on the other hand, literally says the one line that any person who has briefly studied ethics will recognize instantly.

"The ends justifies the means"

“The ends justifies the means” is an incredibly controversial statement, and a result of a subset of ethical theory called consequentialism. Consequentialism essentially holds that the morality of an action, or set of actions, is justified as long as the consequence of the action(s) is a positive one. Ignoring the fact that the idea of a “positive” result differs between parties, as that’s a debate all on its own, consequentialism is largely based on the interpretation of future events. Consequential ethics observes things after-the-fact, not the action itself. Clearly, this shares something in common to Boushi-sama’s approach. She has messed with the natural order of death, manipulated the feelings of the brothers, and holds their sister in hostage in order to obtain what she wants. It only helps that she  has observed the “after” or the “consequences” of the siblings’ fates. In contrast, Shoma is concerned with the process of “should be”, rather than “could happen.” His concern belongs to the realm of deontological ethics, focusing on “principle” and what is determined as the “moral code” to abide by. This is not something that Boushi-sama even considers.

So, we’re back to the school scenes, watching the girls eat.

And this guy.

Soon, Ringo announces that she has to go, and Kanba and Shoma decide to track her to find out where she’s going. They follow her all over the place, through a lingerie shop…

Take note of the spirals...

and watch her risk life and limb to take picture of a bird’s nest. After that, she meets with the teacher from school, who she’s obviously been waiting for, and shows him the picture that she has taken.

Ignoring for the moment how creepy that is, did you notice that she has a black penguin holding an apple as her cellphone keychain? Where else have we seen black penguins? Well, that would be…

Boushi-sama

and the OP sequence

several times, in fact.

So, what can be said of the black penguin? It’s interesting. Obviously, the black penguin in the second picture does NOT look like Boushi-sama’s hat. That would be the black penguins in the third.  What’s with the third image, anyways? Well, let’s take these two sets of black penguins apart.

First of all, focusing on Ringo’s black penguin. I don’t think it’s all that unnatural for a teen to have some kind of animal as their cellphone keychain, and the apple the penguin is holding is most obviously a reference to her own name, Ringo, which means “apple.”  However, why a black penguin? Any other colour would be fine, but why is the black penguin the one Ikuhara has chosen to represent Ringo in the OP sequence? This will be explored later.

Now, let’s take a look at Boushi-sama’s penguin. The most important fact of it, I believe, is the number 95 in the center of the picture from the OP. 95% is considered the “confidence interval” in most applications that require a form of “confidence” presented in numbers. It’s not absolute, but it is the threshold at which most things are considered “certain”. Once again, we see a tie back to the notion of destiny, and the question I asked earlier: is the “destination” of the siblings’ destinies changeable? Is that 5% something that can be used? 

But anyways, the sensei begins to leave soon, and then Ringo cracks a devious smile:

And the brothers follow her to her house and confirm that she has been stalking the teacher, and that he’s her love interest.

Complete with underfloor dwellings!

And then she pulls out what is likely the Penguindrum: a dairy.

According to her inner dialogue, the events of the future are already written in here. I’m not sure if that means her plans for the future, or the actual future itself, but I’ll just assume the later. An interesting juxtaposition, although it’s been done before: the fact that the future is written in something to record the past. I’m hesitant to talk about the imagery that this image carries, as I have a feeling that I’m missing some Japanese folklore of some type, here. I’d talk about how, just like the cherub and apple of episode 1, the entwined snakes carries an easily confused notion between the caduceus and the rod of Asclepius. But I have a large feeling that I’ll be dead wrong about that, and it’s just my ignorance leading me to a false conclusion. If anyone has clarification on this aspect, it would be welcome.

However, if you’ve noticed, there is an aspect that stands out about the design. This is spiral imagery. I’m talking about the individual serpents on the diary, by the way, since the two of them together produce a helix. For reference to what I’m talking about, refer to the above picture of the lingerie shop. The common feature linking both of them is the presence of a spiral. I think it’s interesting to note that a spiral starts at a beginning and “spirals” out further and further. The first spirals were in the lingerie shop, where Ringo passed through to take a picture and presumably buy some lingerie, if Kanba’s observation is accurate. The second ones are on the diary, which presumably tell the future (albeit, only of Ringo’s interest). I think the spiral is important for two reasons, here. First, clearly, it parallels in its natural deviance the deviant behavior that Ringo is displaying. Secondly, I believe that the spirals are very important to the notion of fate because of its deviance. Once again, the imagery seems to be asking: can enough deviance be achieved to alter the future? (or I’ve been watching too much Steins;Gate).

And so, we end the episode on the notion of destiny. Interesting stuff, and looking forward to what’s going to be done. As a personal bit of speculation, I assume that the reason that Boushi-sama wants the Penguindrum, if the diary truly is it, is that it will allow her to find out events prior to the “destination” that she knows, and control what’s happening. Or, perhaps, she’s a good guy, and wants to save the siblings from a cruel fate? Hm.

OK, so I promised I’d talk about Ringo’s black penguin, so I will. I’m primarily interested to see why exactly the black penguin is holding the apple, which I assume to be Ringo?  Take a note that the black penguin in the OP sequence has a face in the shape of a heart. Perhaps it’s the notion that her world, the apple, is being controlled by love? Or is it something deeper than that? And with that, I wait for tomorrow.

Kunihito Ikuhara

Newer viewers of anime and Mawaru Penguindrum may be somewhat confused as to the hype that backs this new show. The primary question is most likely, “Who the hell is Ikuhara?” This is an understandable concern, as he has not done anything high-key for over a decade, since his completion of the Revolutionary Girl Utena film,  Adolescence Apocalypse. 

The man behind it.

The reason for his absence is that he hasn’t HAD to produce another series ever since Utena. He is not the type of director that needs to produce works every other year. He makes a show, and then leaves a lasting impression throughout the industry. People that have not seen Utena are most likely unaware of the incredible influence it has had and still has over anime nowadays. For example, most people mention SHAFT’s trademark animation style: ridiculous camera angles, full body pans, dramatic shots, the whole works. Unaware to many fans of the SHAFT animation style, the primary influences behind their style are, in fact, the techniques used in Revolutionary Girl Utena.

Now, let’s talk a bit about Ikuhara’s style of direction. Above all else, he is one that prioritizes message over exposition, symbolism over dialogue, and themes over shock factor. Utena is infamous for its visual symbolism, and rightfully so; nearly every single shot in the show has importance in lending to the themes that are present in it, so I won’t bring it up again later in my post, because it’ll be self-evident. A major theme in Utena is sexualization, maturity, and “rebirth”. However, Ikuhara, like the greatest of film directors, brings with his symbolism a purpose. What I mean is that he manages to plug in symbolism that is not a wanton allusion to something meaningless to the plot and message behind his show. The word “pretentious” is not a word that can be used to describe his work. No, he carefully crafts everything to meet a purpose. With him, he brings the full breadth of typical literary symbolism, such as colours, to less commonly seen topics that only arise in discussion of film.

"A picture speaks a thousand words." This? Ten thousand.

Now, with this in mind, let’s take a look at the first episode of Ikuhara’s next definitive work, Mawaru Penguindrum. I’ll be going over Ikuhara’s meticulous symbolism as well as what the show holds in promise. I’m also going to ignore the numerous references to Utena, as that would make me take way too many pictures, and I’ll just stick with the show’s internal logic. The following is why I love Ikuhara.

Mawaru Penguindrum

Right off the bat, we see the usage of a film technique: the initial image. In film, this is used in order to essentially say “this is the primary subject matter of my film.” For now, we’ll ignore the dialogue and focus on the image. What exactly is it? At first glance, it can be either a cherub or baby cupid. However, upon observation of the horn, it is most likely a cherub. A studier of Renaissance art should almost immediately equate this with the (distorted) notion of cherubs representing the presence of God. (In reality, that was the cherubim, but that’s a different matter.) So, why is this important? Well, that’s why Ikuhara included the dialogue as well.

“I hate the word ‘fate’,” is what the narrator says. Let’s take a closer look at what exactly “fate” is. The idea of fate is the idea that there is some force behind the world that predetermines events and forces them alongside a path to a certain end. It is closely linked to the ideas of predestination, causality, and deism, except in the former case, God is the one that chooses what happens, and in the latter case, some deity set the world in action and will never interfere again. I believe that the cherub was chosen on purpose to illustrate this: the main conflict will be over the course of a “fate”.

So, back to the importance of the cherub. Note that it is hovering over Himari’s bed. Now, realize, why would the concept of God (symbolized by the cherub) be brought up juxtaposed against the line “I hate the word ‘fate’”? Simple: we’ve got a battle against fate. In fact, this answers true, as I will further elaborate as we continue. To end, the narrator claims that “ever since that day, we would never amount to anything.” Seemingly contradictory in intention to his initial declaration of dislike for “fate”, he seems to be dealing in absolutes (what fate is), now. And with this, we plunge into the deeper mystery that is Mawaru Penguindrum.

 And so, we start with what seems to be an everyday for the Takakura sibli-

What the hell is with that house? Well, keep in mind that Ikuhara does everything in his show to symbolize something. Here, we see colour  symbolism. But there are too many colours to rightfully mean anything just yet, so hold on to that thought.

And we see that the inside of the house is rather… colourful and dissonant as well. This will be important later. From here on, it’s a rather standard anime development, fleshing out the characters and getting to them acquainted to you.

Well, at least until we get a flashback to something earlier. We learn that at some point previously, Himari has been diagnosed with a disease of the brain, and her days to live are numbered, at best. In a fit of rage, Kanba exclaims that there “must be no God,” for something this cruel to happen to a girl that has presumably done no evil. Once again, Ikuhara stresses the notion of “fate” and its controller.

There’s something rather interesting to note about this shot. First, is the use of a skewed camera angle, to accent Kanba’s feeling of desolation. Secondly, is the use of the light. Light is most commonly used to convey the meaning of “truth” in shows, or that the character facing the light is “opening his eyes” to what’s truly happening. Note that both siblings are facing away from the light. The skewed camera angle helps to accent this, and gives the light the feeling of “falling over” onto the characters. Like fate, the truth is inevitable.

We’re then exposed to an expository scene, in which two little kids walk by the house talking about an “apple,” and how it’s supposed to be the “universe in the palm of your hand.” Well, where have we seen an apple, before?

Here it is.

Oh, right, we saw it in the opening sequence. What’s more, it’s conveniently (shock!) in the palm of someone’s hand. Since we’ve already had some religious symbolism, we might as well talk about the apple. The apple is most conveniently linked to the “forbidden fruit” of the story of Adam and Eve. So, what’s the tie between the show and the apple? Is the universe the forbidden fruit? Keep reading. It’s also an allusion to Milky Way Railroad, or Night on the Galactic Railroad, as you’ll see again later.

And so, we cut back to the house, watching as Himari goes by on her “Himari Day,” and we’re treated to another interesting shot.

We see from this camera angle, Himari laying down with a cage decorated with butterflies overhead. Recall that in the earlier scene, the discussion was about Himari’s fate? Well, Ikuhara does this shot to remind us that even in her happiness, the weight of what is inevitable is about to happen. The cage, or more suitably in this case, the “cage of fate” is looming ominously overhead an unassuming Himari. The butterflies bring another realm to the shot. The butterfly is often seen as a symbol of “rebirth” or “transition”, as they go from caterpillars to butterflies through the transitional phase of a cocoon. Note that the butterflies are outside of the cage, possibly denoting that Himari’s “rebirth” or “transformation” will occur outside the boundary of the “cage of fate”? We’ll see.

And so, for Himari Day, Himari decides that they should go to the aquarium and see the penguins. We’re treated to Ikuhara’s own little artistic flairs with the transition scenes for the subway and whatnot. And then we get outside.

Don’t those two images look somewhat similar? Well, besides the directional influence, of course. The left is taken right after they emerge from the subway, and the right is taken from the opening sequence. On the left, we have two male figures bumping heads with each other, somewhat indicative of the squabbles the two male siblings have with one another. On the right, we have what appears to be a loop that’s broken. Interesting little thing to note.

After looking at the penguins for a while, Shoma goes with Himari to buy a present.

And they get this ADORABLE hat for Himari. Of course, we’re not getting anywhere without some conflict, and fate comes back to bite the brothers in the ass, as they find Himari unconscious nearby. She is rushed to the hospital, at which point she dies after saying her brothers goodbye.

And the poor brothers are forced to watch as their beloved sister dies, without being able to do anything. Truly, fate is a cruel mistress, no? Once again, take note of the light in this shot. Ikuhara takes this moment to take a dramatic shot, wherein the audience can’t see what’s going on beyond the glass. This is done for the audience to visually interpret what the characters are thinking: they can’t do anything. The brothers are looking straight into the light: they’ve realized that Himari’s death had to have come sometime.

With the two brothers lamenting over Himari’s death, we now develop drastically different personalities. Whereas Kanba’s (red) way of dealing with Himari’s death is to push it off and blame fate, we see Shoma’s (blue) opposing view. Shoma screams at his brother, being able to pass off his sister’s death as “something that happened,” and tackles him to the ground. Fate vs Avoidance, classic.

And then, Himari wakes up, with the hat Shoma bought on her head. She begins to speak in cryptics, before the hat falls off and she returns to the peaceful old Himari. The brothers rejoice, as their sister has returned.

The rest of the section about the penguins and whatnot don’t contain much besides Ikuhara expanding the situation in a humorous fashion. And the penguins are adorable. When the siblings return home, they begin to eat, and then the hat gets back on Himari. Get ready, because this is insane stuff, and Ikuhara is an amazing man.

Long story short, this entire following sequence is an extended metaphor combining sex, birth, and exposition. I mentioned that one of Ikuhara’s main themes is sexualization, earlier? So, get ready for some SEIZON SENRYAKUUUUUUUUUUU.

Sperm.

Egg. Notice the clock, indicative of causality.

I'll let you use your imagination.

I believe this is self-evident.

Mother's belly.

Vagina, birth canal

OK, the last picture needs a bit of explanation, but I believe the rest of the pictures got the point well across. The last part is going to be used in the process of the exposition to symbolize the “birth” or “rebirth” of Himari. Also, this scene is also a heavy reference to Milky Way Railroad, or Night on the Galactic Railraod. I choose to believe that it really does represent what I put above, because it’s Ikuhara.

So, here’s the exposition: Nadine, the entity possessing Himari, wants the Penguin Drum, and the conditions for her keeping Himari alive are that the brothers search for it. Suddenly, the symbolism from the cage and butterflies rears its head: Himari has avoided her fate of dying, and is rebirthed outside of the “cage of fate”. Also, here’s a bit of speculation on my part: remember the talk about what the apple symbolizes? Now, remember the talk about the kids with the apple being the “universe in the palm of your hand?”  Remember the shot of the hand holding the apple? Now, compare that shot with this one:

Hand?

Doesn’t that look familiar? Well, anyways, I’m going off on a limb here with my speculation, but here’s my guess: combining everything that’s been said so far, I’m going as far to say as Nadine’s goal is to control the universe, and the penguindrum will allow her to do just that.

Anyways, Nadine then begins to walk down the staircase (vagina), stripping all of her clothes off. I’m going to say that this is her path down “rebirth”, and the taking off of clothes symbolizes being “born as a baby” with Himari’s new life.

Do I sound insane?

And then she promptly goes off to rip out Kanba’s heart (or something to that effect).

Now, get ready for some intra-post Chekhov’s gun. Remember way, way back when I mentioned that colours are important here? Well, if you rewatch the episode, you’ll see that every single shot with all three of the siblings (Kanba, Shoma, and Himari) are dissonantly coloured, with clashes palettes all over the place (just look at that house). However, any scene with only two or one of the siblings active has a natural colour scheme. Why is this important? Because this colouring theme now becomes apparent, in that the three of their lives will now be HECTIC.

And, if the following picture is any indication:

Yes, that's Kanba and Himari

We’re in for a wild, wild ride. It isn’t Ikuhara without incest. I’ve covered a lot less about the plot than there was in this episode, but that’s OK.

Now, this is only a fraction of how ridiculously symbolic Utena was, but this is only the first episode. I expect this show to pick up in spades, soon. This combination of symbolism, camera shots, film-like direction is something that you only get from Ikuhara. And that is why I respect him so.

FABULOUS!

Today, I wish to mention what I believe to be her best voice-acting role to be. This role is none other than Utena Tenjou in Revolutionary Girl Utena. As a great fan of reading into the subtext and exploring visual symbolism in movies, Revolutionary Girl Utena is one of the greatest anime ever produced (and arguably, the best that JC Staff has done). As I remember how much of an intellectual adventure Utena as a character is and a show is, I cannot help but feel sentimental that the voice of one of the most iconic characters in anime has passed away. Rest in peace, Kawakami Tomoko, and may the rose-emblazoned gates of heaven await you.

Therefore, it is with my very great pleasure that I can present Puella Magi Madoka☆Magica as an example of why there is still quality in the anime production business. Anime can still be a great storytelling medium, it seems.

MAJOR, MAJOR SPOILERS FOLLOW.

  The Review

Here’s my extremely short-handed, badly-done synopsis of the show:

Miki Sayaka and Kaname Madoka are ordinary school girls living their lives. Madoka has a dream about a dark-haired girl, and when she wakes up and goes to school, she notices that the girl in her dream is a transfer student. She acts mysteriously, and Madoka and Sayaka are caught up in a chain of events that will change their lives.

At first glance, you would most likely not expect this show to be anything out of the ordinary. From the image above, it seems quite evident that the show will be a typical Magical Girl show. The title also helps to contribute to this illusion. It has a variant of “magical girl”, it is redundant (magi and magica), and it even has a star (☆) in its title. How much more bubbly can you get?

Have you seen this before in Mahou Shoujo?

If the above picture is anything to go by, it’s most certainly not that bubbly. When this popped up on my screen, I was amazed. Not because I hadn’t seen things this disturbing before. It was because I had honestly entered this show thinking that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary for a magical girl show, and it hit me in the face like a hammer at this point: this show is going to do something different. And so began my anxious waiting for a new episode every single week, and Madoka☆Magica quickly grew to be my favourite show of the winter season.

The writers certainly know how to keep someone engrossed in a series. The making or breaking point for most people, I imagine, was episode 3. It was in this episode that one of the main characters, Mami Tomoe, died rather suddenly. Death flags had been raised along the course of the episode, but like many other people, I didn’t expect that the writer would go though with it. The death of a character is a very serious thing in writing: it ends all points of furthering anything related to that character (unless it’s a good mystery), halting character development and generally influencing every character in some way.

Looks like she got in over her head.

Now, imagine the effect that seeing the above has on you, if you were this girl’s friend. It’s even worse when we consider that the witnesses of this are not adults; they are teenagers, complete with the emotional turmoil that adolescence brings. This is a major turning moment for the girls’ lives, as this girl was not only their role model, but they thought she was invincible. They learn that accepting to be a mahou shoujo has very dire consequences if not thought through, at this point, and serves as the kick off for many decisions throughout the story.

From this point on, in a very Bokurano-esque fashion, the main cast of girls begin to die off, one by one. The odd thing about this is that the deaths aren’t forced, if you look at them. A major aspect of plot is that everything must come as a result of a character’s decisions and actions. It is in this aspect that Madoka☆Magica can kill off each character while doing it with a natural feel to it. I will explore each character in depth later, going into their actions, their reasonings, and their significance to the overall structure of the show.

Allusion to Bokurano? I think so.

Kyubey begins to be fleshed out, as well. Right at the critical moment after Sayaka turns into a witch, Madoka demands an explanation. Kyubey offers one, and we learn that the universe is approaching a heat death, and that he harvests the power of mahou shoujo when they turn into witches to stave off the end of the universe. His race cannot feel emotions, and they have judged the human race (particularly teenagers) as the best to harvest emotion from.

Throughout the entire show, a certain character named Akemi Homura remains an enigma to the cast. While as an audience, we have a third-person perspective of all her interactions, and we can formulate theories based on her choice of words and interactions with other characters, the characters remain in the dark, as they don’t have all the evidence available to us. She certainly doesn’t make herself endearing to the other characters, either; her first appearance to Madoka is when she’s trying to kill a fluffy little animal. All the less, she appears to have some kind of plan behind her actions, and almost comes off as antagonistic.

When the breaking moment comes, when the audience realizes that the end of the series is coming to a close, we finally learn what Homura is after, in a very dramatic episode 10. She’s been trying to stop Madoka from turning into a Mahou Shoujo, and reliving time to try and save her. Suddenly, all of her past actions make sense, and you almost feel sympathetic with the character. Exposition that was not forced-  a reveal with setup logical and plentiful enough that mostly everyone could have figured it out. In a stroke of cinematographic brilliance, SHAFT did the following contrasts between episode one and ten to show just how much she’s suffered and changed, along with her role in Madoka’s life. It brought tears to my eyes.

At the same time, it seemed that the anime had dug itself into a hole: what can we do about the ending, now? I actually wrote quite a bit on how the anime could logically end, and here’s a snippet on it:

When writing stories, one of three things needs to happen.
1. The character must accomplish his/her goals (happy or bittersweet),
2. the character must abandon and find a new goal (happy or bittersweet),
3. or the character must fail his/her goal (bittersweet or bad).
All characters by default start out aiming for case #1. All of the three (especially #1) require a character that is willing and able to pursue their goal, along with effort and action to reach that goal. A couple more finely attuned to the nuances of action might see where I’m going here.

Obviously, #2 is out. Why? We have not seen any change in Homura from arc 4 to arc 5. As Arc 5 is the concluding arc, and there were no hints of her having any other goal in mind besides saving Madoka, she will not be changing her goal. If the writer tries to pull this (something like Homura chooses to live with Madoka, simply repeating each loop and enjoying it, instead of trying to save her) then I will be sorely disappointed.

I can rightfully admit that I was far more than wrong. Homura does in fact change her character goal. From this point on I’ll talk about the ending, and why I say that it’s one of the most well done endings I’ve ever seen in anime.

The ending

This is an incredible line, and the single line that that defied everything that I thought Madoka would do. I’m very sure that nearly everybody, at the start of the series, thought to themselves that if witches were such a large problem, why not just get rid of them with a wish? At least I did.

What makes this wish unpredictable, though? Easy, she explicitly states that she wants to alter the fates of witches with her own hands. To understand the significance behind being this specific, harken back to a tale I’m sure everyone has read: the Monkey’s Paw. The idea is that a wish is prone to many interpretations, not all of which will be according to plan. When she asks that she can do this all with her own hands, she is literally saying “Give me control of my wish.” She can execute it in any way possible, and she does so in a manner befitting her personality: letting the Mahou Shoujo live, but not allowing them to expire into witches when they’ve passed the event horizon.

While I’m on the topic, there’s a second part to her wish that makes it all the more amazing and well thought out. Kyubey states that, had the mahou shoujo not been granted upon historic figures, the human race would more or less still be living in caves. So what does she do? She visits each person right as they no longer have any hope, right as their turn to witches is inevitable, and stops it from occurring. She doesn’t wish that witches don’t exist. She literally stops it from happening. That way, whatever deeds the the mahou shoujo would have done for the human race, they still accomplish. It’s all the good minus the horrific end. She takes all the possible grief that will happen, has happened, and is happening and takes it upon herself, in a little montage that I found extremely heartwarming.

By the way, this aired on Good Friday. Don't think we missed the symbolism, SHAFT.

Of course, we’re not without our little Incubators, here. Consistent with the idea of entropy and equilibrium, we learn that Madoka’s actions have in fact caused the death of a separate universe, as all the negative energy that comes from witches has to go somewhere. Madoka, not one to be discouraged, realizes that with her new godly powers, she’s got the despair exactly where she wants it, and eliminates it all in one fell swoop.

Madoka being Administrator of the Universe

At the end, we’re left with a bittersweet note for the viewer. Madoka has faded out from cognizable existence, and Homura is left fighting the spawn of the new entropy system that has been created in a separate universe. However, the characters have all reached their goals, and are ready to move on, and that signals the end of the plot. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of our little tale.

For my verdict of the show, let me give you a chart, since everybody loves charts. Now, I realize that there is no numerical basis to judge enjoyment, but here it goes:

Enjoyment over Episode

You’ll notice there is a drop at episode 10. That’s addressed in my criticism section- don’t worry, it doesn’t mean I thought it was bad. In fact, this is a play-by-play chart. In retrospect, this would be a straight line upwards. Overall, however, the anime has served me well over these last several months, and I have loved every single second watching it.

Puella Magi Madoka☆Magica is a brilliant anime, and one that I believe should be seen by all fans of anime. It is by far my favourite anime of the winter season, and it’s looking pretty good for best anime of the year (Ano Hana and Hanasaku Iroha are really doing well right now). It reaches a logical and fulfilling conclusion for each and every single major character in the show, and leaves the plot completely fulfilled without any errors. This is one of the few shows I have seen that can force me to shed tears, write this much, and keep me on edge every second of the show. I’m going to miss waiting for new episodes of Madoka☆Magica. I’ll probably have some post-anime depression when I finish this post (just like I do for all great stories). I would honestly give this show the title of a “masterpiece”, but you’ll have to read the criticism section to see why I didn’t. Though, I am going to have to move around my Top 10 list a tiny bit.

The End.

 Characters, Goals and Endings

Given that the full force of the conclusion cannot be understood until each character’s goals and actions are fully understood, I feel that this is a necessary part of my post. This  will go to show why the ending is a good, bittersweet, or a bad end for certain characters.

Total Badass

Akemi Homura

From the very beginning, Homura is not cast into a positive light. She’s about to kill Kyubey, and that’s when Madoka and Sayaka stumble unto the scene. When they are rescued by Mami from the witch dimension, Mami gives a clear threat to Homura, telling her to back off. From this point, Madoka and Sayaka are largely biased against Homura.

It’s quite obvious that Homura’s character goal is to not let Madoka become a witch. As an extension of that, she must not let Madoka become a Mahou Shoujo, as they are essentially one and the same. The repeated arcs should be proof of this, and episode 10 shows her motivations and reasons for not doing certain things quite nicely. I’ve heard people say “Why doesn’t Homura just tell Madoka and the rest what Kyubey is doing?” She’s already tried once, and it didn’t work and actually raised suspicion against her; she’s not going to try that again.

So why do I argue that the ending is a happy ending for Homura? That’s an easy question. By the end of episode 11, she has given up her goal. I did not imagine that she would do this, until the beginning of episode 11 when Kyubey mentioned that Homura’s cycles are only making Madoka more desirable for the Incubators. She realizes this, and gives herself up to die, when she could have gone for another reset. In her words, if she repeats “this again… Madoka’s fate will keep getting worse.”

When a goal is given up, the character, by necessity of plot, must pick up a new goal. What is brilliant about this is that Madoka, stepping up in episode 11, makes the final major decision of the series: she chooses to make a wish. This forces Homura, instead of dying, to continue her life and eventually pick up a new goal. Homura, in episode 12, picks up said new goal in all her emotion. She wants to be with Madoka, her best friend. At the end, she’s seen to be able to converse with Madoka despite how barren the world has become. If the wings are any indication, she’s about to be overcome by the grief she’s collected over all these years. She smiles – she’s happy despite it all, and her character goal has been reached, because she knows she’ll meet Madoka again. Happy ending.

Moderator of the Galaxy

Kaname Madoka

I must say that I admire Madoka’s character. She truly does come off as the pure girl that the series advertises, and it’s not forced.

Her character goal is that she wants to become a mahou shoujo like Mami. She thinks of herself as a boring and simple girl without special abilities, and admires Mami, who she has the image of being the selfless savior. In its purest form, she simply wants to be a help for other people. There can be argument over argument over whether or not her wish is altruistic or not. Even after Mami is killed, we do not see that her character goal wavers, going so far as to risk herself for Sayaka’s sake.

So why doesn’t she become a Mahou Shoujo right off the bat? That’s because she’s seen what happened to Mami and Sayaka, and realizes that this could be her fate as well. Far from what she thought being a mahou shoujo would be like (in fact, this may be considered an argument against what looks like an altruistic final decision).

At the very end, she accomplishes exactly what she wanted: she becomes a help to others. While the phrase “Madoka died for our sins” isn’t exactly the most accurate, it gets a general idea out. She’s willing to shoulder the pains of others in order to save them from a fate that is highly undesirable. The girls still suffer through their lives (because it’s necessary), but Madoka ensures that they will no longer have to suffer once they’ve done what they have to. Happy end.

Unlimited Blade Works

Miki Sayaka

Ah, how I feel sorry for you, Sayaka. The story of an unrequited love, the story of hubris and suspicion. Goodnight, sweet princess.

Sayaka has had a short term goal and a long term goal. Her short term goal, making Kamijou happy, is actually an extension by romantic feelings of her long term goal, which is to be a helpful mahou shoujo like Mami. With her short term goal accomplished, she went on to do her long-term. Only, then Kyouko shows up and sets everything into disarray for Sayaka.

Of course, the power of a teenager’s emotions is a very influential thing. Sayaka feels inadequate for Kamijou after realizing that she’s not really a human anymore and falls into the depression that begins her descent into madness. This conflicts severely with her own pride, and it breaks through in the moment when Kyouko, in her usual blunt fashion, attempts to help Sayaka take care of a witch. It is also this pride, mixed with prejudice, that results in her rejecting Homura’s help (of a grief seed). It all goes downhill, until she realizes how illogical she’s been, and breaks down into a witch.

What about her character goals? Both of them are fulfilled. In the short time that she was a mahou shoujo, she managed to try and be the kind of hero that Mami was, and kept to her ideals. In the end, however, what matters the most to her is Kamijou, as seen in the final scene with her. She’s accomplished what she wants, and has no regrets with giving herself up for his happiness. She moves on. Bittersweet.

Big Eater

Sakura Kyouko

 To put it out quickly, Kyouko’s goal is a very simple one. She also wants to help. But the complexity of her character comes from her past, and the conflict it presents with her current goal.

Given that her wish was something made to help her father, but ultimately ended up hurting her when her father found out that she used magic on his situation and went insane, its natural to assume that she would at least be somewhat disillusioned with the entire scenario of giving yourself up for other people. Outwardly, it appears as though she only wants to live. In fact, it’s a stroke of minor brilliance that she eats so much, as it parallels her desire to live no matter the expense to others (letting familiars develop). You might ask, however, isn’t living her goal instead of helping? No, as can be seen by her final sacrifice and her dialogue inside the church: she wants to help. It’s unfortunate that her style of helping wasn’t able to get across to Sayaka until the very end of her life, when it didn’t matter anymore.

In the end, she ends up mercy killing Sayaka and dying with her, since “It sucks to be alone”. She’s completed her goal, and as seen by her dialogue with Madoka in the finale, she’s content with it. Happy end.

Unlimited Musket Works

Mami is a very fun character. She’s got a lot of depth to her.

We get a very positive image of Mami when she first arrives on scene. Her first action is to save Madoka and Sayaka, replete with heavenly music playing in the background. Her second is to threaten the antagonistic Homura, and forcing her to leave. She appears, all in all, to be a very strong person and capable of handling herself as necessary. As the person to inspire Sayaka and Madoka, her main outer goal is not to keep surviving, but instead to help those around her.

While she has an outward strength of character, it is in episode 3 that we learn how much being a mahou shoujo has hurt her. She outright says that being a mahou shoujo will only bring isolation, and she breaks down in happiness when Madoka offers to be her company, finally thinking that she has something to look forward to in her life. Of course, she dies shortly afterwards.

So what was her goal? Her character goal was to have friends. While this goal was attained, she died directly after it. Bittersweet, even if it’s shown that she isn’t exactly bitter about what happened.

Incubator

Kyubey a.k.a. Incubator

I just want to get this out and say it. Kyubey is my favourite character. Kyubey is by no means a horrible person. He is in fact the most rational character in the entire show – and this is what makes him so disagreeable. His goals, while not directly opposed to the girls’, carry the heavy sentence of them turning into witches (a secondary goal that they all don’t want, except Mami because she didn’t know).

His species cannot feel emotion, but works a more inefficient (due to their emotions) human race to achieve their ends. The entire Incubator race as a whole has juggled between two choices: let the heat death of the universe occur in due time, or sacrifice girls every now and then to prolong the life of the universe. From a purely numerical and logical perspective, the choice is obvious: make the sacrifice. He is able to say this because he truly doesn’t understand emotion. He cannot feel anger, happiness, or most importantly, despair. Empathy is impossible.

Of course, Kyubey’s ultimate goals are really easy to guess. He wants to get the girls to contract into being mahou shoujo and harvest the energy from their grief. Although it works multiple times, Homura resets the timeline each time, and in the finale, Madoka is the one to invalidate Kyubey’s methods with finality. But of course, in typical Incubator fashion, he doesn’t really care unless he gets his energy quota. All Madoka has done is make it harder for him to gather energy. Which means it’s his loss.

Criticism, Speculation and Other

“BEST ANIME EVER SO ORIGINAL AND AMAZING”

What the premise has done is not a miracle of creativity, though. To put it simply, all that has been done is that normal teenage girls, with all the emotional anxiety and instability of teenagers, have been put into a world that, while seemingly happy (who doesn’t want to make a wish?), ultimately ends up conflicting with their goals.

Everything in the anime rides on execution as well as plot, both of which it does exceedingly well. The writer should feel proud of the tale he has crafted.

“There isn’t any religious symbolism. It was just coincidence.”

I highly, highly doubt that the parallel between Christ and Madoka was unintended. However, you are left to what you believe, and if you believe that there is no religious symbolism, you are free to that opinion. There are many schools of thought regarding philosophy/religion and this show. I, for one, recognize Madoka as my Goddess.

Also, something needs to be said regarding her status as “God”. Calling her “God” doesn’t actually make sense, and I just do it because I like the idea. In reality, she is not omnipotent like God would be – she’s restricted only to the powers her wish grants her, which is to destroy all witches. Of course, in the process she shoulders all the grief of the girls, paralleling Christ’s shouldering of all the sins of humans.

“Madoka☆Magica isn’t even that good. The ending was filled with plot holes and was inconclusive.”

You have to either have shut off your brain or skipped large portions of the show to be able to say this and truly believe in it. Everything can be explained by something at one point or another.

If you don’t think the anime is good, just as a general statement, that is your opinion and you are entitled to it. I am curious as what you think is a good anime, however.

“Why did Madoka disappear at the end, then?”

This is best answered in a reference to the ageless question “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” The idea behind the question is of circular logic: the chicken lays the egg, but the egg houses the developing chicken. Madoka’s disappearance can be explained in a similar fashion. After Madoka gathers all the grief from the mahou shoujo, she literally has nothing else to do rather than to house this grief, which takes the form of a giant soul gem that we see take the form of a world-devouring witch. Her wish, however, mandates her to destroy herself in her witch form (which would be in her own immediate future), thus eliminating her from the plane of existence that Homura is in. She’s essentially created a paradox for herself, thus why she can’t take a material form.

HOWEVER, as her wish is to destroy every witch, she still cannot fade from existence, as this is an ongoing task. Mahou Shoujo in the new system still have the, technically speaking, capability to turn into witches. However, because of Madoka’s wish, this “capability” is actually impossible, as a result of the paradox I mentioned above. It’s Madoka who pops in continually and makes impossible the possible witches from being born, thus necessitating the new “Majuu” system. This is also why I think that Homura succumbs to despair at the end, as she’s able to hear Madoka’s voice, who should only be able to recognized at the time of a mahou shoujo’s conversion into a witch, by the logic I have painted above.

If you’re about to say that a paradox cannot come into truth by nature of it’s definition, consider this: since when was magic logical?

“Nothing happened. The ending was a reset, and could have been done at any single point of the series.”

Completely incorrect. What we needed was for Homura to be unable/unwilling to stop Madoka from making the wish. Kyubey’s comment towards the beginning of the 11th episode, when he says that Homura has only made Madoka stronger (and therefore, logically, more attractive to use as a Mahou Shoujo) ultimately discourages Homura from even trying to rewind again. This scenario gives Madoka the necessary time to make her final wish. This could not have been done earlier than the 11th episode.

Why did Kyubey even grant Madoka’s last wish?

To answer this one, you have to recall a detail from episode 11. Due to the time loops, Madoka now has the collected magical power to break the rules on wish-making.

Is Mahou Shoujo Madoka☆Magica deep, or a profound work of art?

No, it is anything but profound or deep. I feel, however, that the darker tone of the series as well as the references to Faust (classical literature, oh goodie!) opened up people’s minds to the prospect that Madoka☆Magica would explore some “deep” themes – that it would introduce avenues of philosophical and psychological thought that would be brilliantly answered by the conclusion of the series, only to be sorely disappointed.

In fact, the show does contain some very good questions and implications that it could have expanded upon (the most obvious one being: what measure is a human life?). However, if you pay close attention to the show, you can see that it chooses to drop all of these by episode 10. In fact, this is the main reason I found myself disappointed in the episode (but mainly, my disappointment came from how limited the choices seemed). By the end of episode 10, the writer has limited his choices in both the ending and the exploration of questions for the intricacies of plot action to take over. It drops and does not further expand on the questions it has, and the fact that I recognized this earlier than most helped to ease my disappointment.

Another thing to consider is this: in great literature and film, exploration of anything “deep” or deeply tuned to human nature is always addressed over the course of the entire work in the background, and will more often than not end by being observations of these questions, rather than answers (in fact, contradictions and opposing views will be addressed). Alongside these observations rides the plot, which subtly carries and progresses itself as well as the observations. Since these observations must be carried out throughout the entire work, it is a dire mistake to begin a question near the conclusion of the work, as you simply do not give enough plot progression to equal the observational progression that is necessary. The same applies to cutting short questions.

The fact that it is not deep or profound does not do much to harm my opinion of the series. Some of the greatest films of all time do not offer profound implications (what’s deep about Casablanca?). However, there is no doubt that there was more Madoka could have done with all the observations it raised. This is why I would have to knock it off being a masterpiece.

Is Mahou Shoujo Madoka☆Magica a deconstruction of the mahou shoujo genre?

Is Madoka☆Magica a work of deconstruction, however? I’ve read many, many arguments that dissect the series and attempt to argue for and against the series being a deconstruction. I feel the need to clarify something at this point- when I talk about deconstruction here, I mean the following description:

“Deconstruction takes a fictional element that may or may not be seen as a nice thing, and questioning it, examining it, putting it in real life circumstances, and sometimes showing this element to be much less nice than commonly assumed.” – TVTropes.

There is a LOT more to deconstruction than this (in fact, many scholars [and I] who have read Derrida’s papers cannot make an agreeable front as to what exactly deconstruction entails; he himself couldn’t define it), but this seems to be most commonly understood definition and therefore suits my means. Works can be argued for and against being examples of deconstruction, and even more so when every aspect of deconstruction is considered. This is why I argue that arguing deconstruction is unproductive: as deconstruction breaks down semantics and context at its core, semantics can be played to argue for or against the exact same thing, leading to circular argument.

However, given the mainstream definition, I can most certainly say that “yes”, Madoka☆Magica is an example of a deconstruction of the Mahou Shoujo genre. What are the major aspects of the mahou shoujo genre, then? I’ll list some of them off: a “contract” of some sorts, usually initiated by some kind of adorable animal; a magical girl; an altruistic nature for all the mahou shoujo; the power of friendship. Let me go one-by-one here.

The contract initiated with a cute, fluffy animal is still there in the form of Kyubey. However, let’s consider this aspect: why would something want you to become a mahou shoujo? Other than saving your own/its life? Kyubey initially sends forth his regards, giving the girls any kind of wish they want in exchange for becoming a mahou shoujo. All happy and nice, right? Well, no, because Kyubey is a part of an advanced alien race that wants to stop the death of the universe, and he needs to use power of broken emotions to stave it off. This contract signs you off to a life of constantly fighting witches, and eventually either dying fighting one or becoming one yourself, and all is not happy. That is the cost of a wish. The deconstruction aspect of it lies in the question: why exactly does it want you to become a mahou shoujo? There must be some kind of consequence/reason?

Altruism is absolutely not present in this series, and Madoka☆Magica shows exactly how such a system is likely to play out in real life. Kyouko points this out most bluntly. If the only way to continue living was to let other people get into danger, would you do it? Or would you fight on, knowing you’ll die but be a help to others? Madoka is the closest it gets.

The power of friendship is brutally deconstructed in episode 9, when Madoka and Kyouko are unable to get any recognition of Sayaka, now a witch. Just goes to show that the power of friendship doesn’t always work out.

Overall, Madoka☆Magica is in fact a deconstruction of the mahou shoujo anime. This does not mean it’s better or worse in nature than a conventional mahou shoujo show. This simply means that it is a deconstruction. Therefore it is less common, and people will flock to it by default.

“So… what’s going to happen to Homura?”

Case 1: She’s going to keep fighting, simple as that. If the wings (through which Madoka is talking to Homura) is any indication, she’s going to keep fighting to keep balance with the new system.

Case 2: Given new evidence suggested by my friend ImperialX in this post, I’m going to have to say that it is likely that Homura is about to be overcome by the collected grief she’s gathered. It’s still a happy ending, because like I mentioned before, her character goal is to be with Madoka; and this is exactly what her death will entail.

Both of these are speculation. I would rather Case 1 be true.

As the first episode of the series aired, I had at least decent prospects for the show. The character designs were intriguing and active, and I found myself to like the characters. I felt it had done a good job of building up a suspenseful atmosphere. I tried, I really did, to push back the sinking feeling in back of my head that screamed to me “ANIME ORIGINAL ENDING”, even though the red flag for it was given at the very opening sequence.

You may have noticed from the above that I am not a fan of anime original endings. I want you to hear my case on this, before I get to attacking this mess of a work. I am a very large fan of the idea that all works, if they are adaptations of another, should be judged as independent works (as if the source material didn’t exist). Why? It’s because I say that a well-executed work of fiction should have everything necessary to fully appreciate it within itself, and not have to rely on narration that comes from a different source (something which I’ve found a bit of a irritating factor in Index, another JC Staff project; specifically, Accelerator’s powers).

However, the problem with Merry is that JC Staff had perfectly good material to work with, and they chose to go down one of their original abominations of a story (as is the case for a large majority of anime original endings). I am all for originality, and anime itself should try to be original and outgoing. As such, I do feel bad for comparing this anime to its manga source material, and I’ll try to make this the last time I compare the adaptation to the source material (I avoided it in IS’ review). I would much rather prefer quality than originality.

To put it bluntly, the failing factor of this anime is largely attributed to JC Staff’s lack of effort on all fronts. It’s very noticeable that the animation effort put into this project was well below their standard quality, and it sticks out like a sore thumb especially in the fight scenes. It was painfully obvious that there were several parts where JC Staff thought it would cost too much to animate a particular moment (or too much effort), and decided to go for the easiest method of animation.

The plot went quickly from very interesting to mundane and shallow, and the turning point was exactly when the anime began to diverge from the source material. From there, practically no plot action took place. It was just going through the motions of what would be common of a fanfiction if it took the reigns after only reading half the manga. The finale was a wholly uninspired mess, and it left the taste of rage in my mouth. It was as if JC Staff suddenly decided that the better half of the manga didn’t exist. They did a horrible, horrible job of expanding on the story, and left more questions than they did answers, and more plot holes than a mastocyte (caution, image may be disturbing, if you don’t like holes).

The same must be said of the characters, who all took a turn for the worse at the exact same moment the plot did. It pains me to say this, as I really did like the characters. But JC Staff decided to take their creative liberty (read: creativity-killing meat cleaver) to the characters, and ending up leaving them boring and without much depth. This is especially observant in the Yumeji-Merry duo, which in the manga is extremely well done, and actually makes me feel like a bond of kinship has developed. Here, nothing of the sort.

Overall, Merry is a horrible anime even without comparison to its manga counterpart, and JC Staff should feel horrible for taking an interesting premise and throwing it away in favour of a plot that a thirteen-year-old could have written in his basement. It also has the very great honour of being my first anime that I have granted a bad review to. Congratulations, JC Staff; words cannot express my bitter disappointment.

The Only Redeeming Moment of the Finale.

Did that sound random? Well, good, because that’s the show. And I love it.

When I first saw the promotional image for this show, I truly didn’t expect much. I wrote it off as one of those shows that I’d just watch on a weekly basis for a lack of anything else better to do. After all, doesn’t that image up there make Kore Zombie look like a generic harem that tries to be a comedy but ends up failing (like so many shows the last few years)?

I was pleasantly taken by surprise in the first episode, where the combination of random humour and over-the-top stunts made me laugh the most I have the entire season. Don’t get me wrong, the humour is not mature or particularly witty; it’s just straight up ridiculous. This, coupled with a very unconventional twist on the whole Mahou Shoujo recruitment process, made this series an instant watch for me. Not every male can pull off being both a magical girl and a badass. If anything, it’s commendable to see a main character with a backbone.

If this isn't badass, I don't know what is.

What I found not-so-surprising-but-still-very-welcome was that as the anime progressed, the humour actually came paired with some genuine character development. By this, I don’t mean that the characters themselves developed, but that they were fleshed out, and from what I thought was a bunch of cliches (loli tsundere, kuudere, large breasted aloof character, girl smitten with Ayumu) blossomed some truly unique and quirky characters that I looked forward to seeing each week, if not just to see what other ridiculous things they would say and do.

Of course, fleshing out characters leaves room to do something with them. The plot, while random and full of holes at various locations, seems secondary. It seems like the plot solely exists as a vehicle that allows for more heartwarming and awesome things to occur between the characters. If you’re not a fan of contrived plot events, then this anime is likely not for you. Though, to be honest, the ending few episodes brought interesting implications about the relationship between characters that left me somewhat sullen and reflective.

The animation is nice, and I honestly didn’t expect as good as it was from DEEN. While there are many instances of off-model characters, I’m OK with that. It’s arguably the most well-animated anime that has come from DEEN.

The music complemented the scenes well, and nothing stood out as ear-devastatingly bad. A particular track I remember, that complimented the scenes it played in very well, was Sangeki no Kioku. The OP and ED were a pleasure to listen to every week, and besides Madoka and Infinite Stratos, were the only OPs and EDs I listened to for every single episode.

Overall, Kore Zombie is all-in-all a good series. It doesn’t bring anything necessarily revolutionary to the anime scene, but it stands heads-and-shoulders over most shows that have aired lately. If you’re a fan of comedy, cute moments, and some heartwarming drama, Kore Zombie is your cup of tea. With the last episode airing a season 2 flag, I am so very ready for another season of Masou Shoujo.

4.5 Tatami Square

Tatami Galaxy is a simple and brutally honest series, and in retrospect, is my favourite anime of the 2010 year, and I believe that it trumps most shows from 2009, as well.

MINOR SPOILERS FOLLOW.

To be honest, I did not plan on watching this series. It was only by the encouragement of a certain ImperialX, a good friend, that I looked into this series. I wasn’t too encouraged by what I found until I noticed a certain name pop up: Masaaki Yuasa. As a great fan of his works, I decided to view this anime. What I found was a hidden gem.

The story follows an unnamed university student narrator, who I from this point on, I will address as Narrator. It details his tales of trying to find, what he calls in his own words, a “rosy campus life” by joining circles(clubs), and his relationships to others in this conquest.

I’m going to come out with a spoiler here, but it’s something you learn by the middle or so of the first episode, and is what the entire plot is based on. Narrator is allowed to relive his first years at his university, in a time loop, to try and find his “campus life.”

Tatami Galaxy is an anime that is completely about choices. There is no deeper meaning to this anime than the exploration of Narrator’s choices, and how they affect his view of his life and his relationships with the cast. The Narrator makes a decision at the beginning of every single episode, and the show immediately delves into how he spent his two years after joining. He details every single emotion he felt, and throughout the episode, you come to understand exactly who the Narrator is in each decision he makes. Some of these are hilarious, and some of them are heartbreaking.

Everything in the anime is simple and honest. From the art direction to the speed at which Narrator relates his tales, everything is pressed and handed to you on a piece of paper. The execution, for the most part, is beautiful and light-hearted. Even the music; there are no overly elaborate or truly “exhilarating” pieces in the OST.

The writing, to simply say, is beautiful. From its allusion to famous works such as Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis to Robert Heinlein’s “And He Built a Crooked House” (the latter of which has incredible implications behind the story), to every single character’s vibrant personalities, it’s rare to see an anime that does its writing so brilliantly.

The ending, to jump a large gap, is brilliant and heartwarming, an example of how to handle character development. In fact, the anime is a retrospective one. You will likely only begin to understand its brilliance as it enters its final stages. Just as in a great film, you learn WITH the character, and the revelations are astounding (although foreseeable to a degree).  You will likely find yourself looking back at certain characters, and reevaluating their actions, understanding the depth behind them.

However, this is not to say that the show is without errors, and despite how much I love it, I feel the need to tell the truth. The show, as with many in its premise, falls into the trap that many time-loop writers fall into. The show lacks action for its first half (first several loops). When I say “action” here, I don’t mean explosions and deaths. I mean actual plot-advancing, character developing actions taken by Narrator. They take baby steps, sure, but I believe that every action must have an impact, which the first sadly do not. As such, I fully expect that many people may have dropped this series before the midway point. Only in the second half of the series do Narrator’s actions show development and truly explore the consequences of what he does.

I have to say that watching this anime was an adventure, and one of those few series that I would recommend to anyone without hesitation. If you are willing to broaden your watching experience and risk it, the payoff is worth every single second. And if the animation style deters you from seeing this show, I must give you a piece of advice: give it a chance, and it may just surprise you.

All the episodes are available for viewing here, by Funimation.

A state of disarray.

If you don’t know what this picture is about, after reading the title of this post and seeing the image, I suggest that you click this link, and read up. This is a beautiful and tragic picture of Japan, and one that I felt should be acknowledged. More after the jump…

What’s in this image? To put it simply, it’s a girl what what appears to be rabbit ears (or a ribbon) holding on to a pole amidst waves. The sun glares in the background, and the sky is dark.

Why do I find this image so powerful? Think about the flag of Japan, if you haven’t already. The flag of Japan has a white background with a red circle in the middle, which represents the rising sun. Here, we have the red circle encompassed by black, a colour normally associated with chaos. What has happened to the white of the original flag, in that case? There it is; in the tsunami that is threatening to take under the girl, in bits and pieces. White and black are mixed in what appears to be a shoddy job of colouring; it is not. They are purposefully left mingled to give not only the visual image of chaos, but possibly the fact that only parts of the peoples’ lives (the white) are left standing for the people in the affected regions (the black). The only thing left for these people is the sun that rises.

Amidst all this chaos, we see the girl, clinging on for dear life to that pole. It’s not hard to make the colour connection between the flag of Japan and the girl + pole. The girl is obviously devastated, as you can observe from the black in her. But the pole is a vibrant and immaculate white: a symbol of hope nested in both the sun and the water (and presumably, lands) below. This is a perfect image of those people affected by the tsunami and earthquake.

However, despite this situation in the regions, the world has the ability to give me hope. Many internal and external relief groups rushed to help immediately following the disaster, and I am sure their efforts have saved the lives of many people.  I can only hope that people survive with their friends and family intact, as well. Losing a loved one is one of the most painful things you can go through, and I hope despite odds that all these missing people end up alive and safe, so they can return to their families. Japan needs all the help it can get right now.

If you can, please go to donate to the relief effort in Japan. I have input a meager $100 for this cause through the Red Cross. I would do more, but as a student, I am pressed for money. If you can’t, I ask that you keep these people in your mind (or prayers, if you are so inclined), and wish for the best.

Credit for the wonderful artwork goes to whoever the artist is. I have been unable to find it.

As a postnote, I cannot fathom how some people can possibly be so ignorant and base as to even suggest that Japan deserved this accident for their actions at Pearl Harbor. The nuclear bombs would like to suggest otherwise.