Should I Watch Violet Evergarden ?

PUT THIS ANIME ON YOUR MUST WATCH ANIME LIST

Actually I'am not really sure how should I write the review of this great story. I didn't really like it on the first time I watch this anime, It does have a stunning picture that I haven't seen for a while on an anime series but, I just can't enjoy the first episode of this anime. I dropped it, but eventually I rewatch it from the first episode and get attached to this series until now.

!!WARNING!!

Before I start the main review, let me tell you this. This anime has a great story and you musn't skip any episode in this series. If you like and only like fighting anime, you might not like it because it might not your thing.

!!THIS REVIEW MIGHT NOT CONTAIN ANY SPOILER OF THE STORY!!

The first thing you might want to know is about the graphic. Just how I've said before, the Graphic, the Picture, The View, it's really great on this series. The quality is just like you watch an anime movie. The art is just very spectacular. I haven't found yet any other anime series that I like have this kind of quality. It seem's like the studio really put on a lot of budget to make this series happen.

The story is just wonderfull. based on a light novel under the same title (Violet Evergarden / ヴァイオレット・エヴァーガーデン) the director did a great job to revive this story into an anime series. Back at 2014 light novel source material of Violet Evergarden was entered into the annual competiton known as "Kyoto Animation Award Program". This event was brought in 2009 by Kyoto Animation that pulled out a lot of original manga and Light Novel on it's submission, if the submission were good, it would be considered to be adapetd into an anime. several example of submission on this event that recieved an adaptation would be; Kyoukai no Kanata (境界の彼方) ,Chuunibyou demo koi ga shitai! (中二病でも恋がしたい!) and Free! (フリー！) however none of this submission win the competition, they were only Honourable mention. The thing you want to know is that, no submission in the five year of competition had been running have became a grand prize winner. And "Violet Evergarden" became the first submission in 5 years to win the grand prize in "Kyoto Animation Award Program". let me tell you this all of the story mean that the quality of material that found in Violet Evergarden Surpass anything that could be found in 6 year worth of submission on that competition. who doesn't want to know the story ?

The Music, well I don't like the OP OST but I somehow get attached by the ED.

That's all the review from me, tell me weather you like the review or not. if you like please stay tunned on this portal. and if you don't, please tell me how would you like it to be. and here is some nice song from Violet Evergarden - Michishirube by Minori Chihara

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Ajin Anime Review

Ajin Anime Review:

"Don't judge a book by its cover": a metaphorical phrase that I'm sure many of us are familiar with, being one that has long transcended both generational and ethnic background to be used across the globe. A phrase that has taken on several reiterations depending on the time period and linguistics of the land, but still maintains the same direct message. It's simple, to the point and always relevant when entering the world of any storytelling medium. As much as many of us would like to think, that we could quickly discern the contents of a show simply off of the art cover and synopsis, there are times when we are all proven wrong.
Take the outward appearances of Mahou Shoujo Madoka★Magica and Gakkougurashi! for example. Both titles display an outer shell that could be described as innocent or even a bit too cloying upon first encounter. Had any veteran anime viewer taken a glance at them with no prior knowledge, it could be easy to understand if they had fallen for the façade. When any viewer becomes accustomed to familiarized signs in certain anime they've experienced before, it isn't out of character for complacency to kick in.
Whether we want to or not, past experiences tend to lead to some subconscious rewiring of expectations for certain content we perceive later on. It's how we refine our viewing habits and why we tend to avoid certain things that set off red flags in our heads due to unsavory experiences. It's a primal reaction our ancestors had to avoid danger and one we adopted for more trivial things, like avoiding shows that aren't within our favor. It's a habit with polarizing results, but still, an understandable one we all share in one way or another.

And if one were to glance at the outward appearance of Ajin, I'm sure the prenotion to quickly judge it would take hold. With promotional art and a premise that seem to enforce the trappings of a typical bishounen action romp, it isn't hard to see why that knee-jerk reaction to label it would occur. But what we see on the outside, and what we actually get, is a whole other story. While Ajin may pattern itself to shows of that caliber, it quickly deviates from the tropes associated with it to become something far more promising. This anime is a book that screams one thing while the pages on the inside reveal another.

The story takes place in a fictional universe where humanity stumbled upon the discovery of a new sub-species of beings dubbed the Ajin. Having the appearance of regular humans, the Ajins are thought to be immortal, while also possessing several supernatural abilities. Due to their documented cases' being extremely rare, they quickly become subjects of superstition. But all that changes when a resurgence of the species occurs in modern day Japan, bringing with it a public frenzy that leads us into the narrative that unfolds before us today.

What we have here is a fundamental case of man vs 'allegorical' man, something many of us is familiar with, whether we're aware of it or not. Every time there's a story that pits opposing ideals of beings capable of human-level thought, (whether that be man or beast), it follows the man vs man conflict. This isn't always limited to one conflict either, as multiple topics tend to branch out from its inception, as demonstrated with movies like Dances With Wolves, or Cameron's Avatar, for the modern viewing audience. It's the tale of societal discrimination and xenophobic rejection of anything that doesn't align with someone's own principal. These are the stories that advocate awareness by providing social commentary with the human condition used as a platform.

And these common tales are no stranger to the world of anime. You don't have to look far, with titles such as Parasyte and Shinsekai Yori adhering to this traditional narrative. Both of which serve as ambassadors in anime's ability to craft this tale just as effectively as anything found on the silver screen. But despite the commonality of these stories, it's still one that's easily botched when handled without finesse, with titles such as Tokyo Ghoul and Terra Formars being testaments to that fact. Thankfully, Ajin isn't a case of the latter, although I do hesitate to place it on the caliber of the aforementioned that did this narrative well. If I had to give a comparative evaluation, I'd say it finds itself somewhere comfortably in the middle. While not as fleshed out as Shinsekai Yori or as multifaceted as Parasyte, Ajin still manages to hold its own. Instead of letting the subject matter marinate in the subconscious of the viewer, Ajin makes swift actions to drive home the message quickly it wishes to convey. This gives room for a narrative that's constantly in motion, which is ideal for those seeking immediate results. And while this to-the-point approach may leave many of its concepts explored only on a surface level, it still allows for a more consumable binge-watching experience. It prioritizes thrills over thematic pondering, which makes it more accessible to a broader market. This also makes Ajin a good gateway for those who want just to get their toes wet with heftier concepts, but aren't quite ready to dive in. It sprinkles in commentary about our current populace's desensitized state, as well as touching upon ethical treatment taken by governing bodies. It does just enough to whet the appetite of the viewer and add flavor to its narrative. And for those who want just a little bit extra with their action, this might just be all that's needed. But despite that fact, there's still a barrier of entry for those willing to crack the spine of this anime, and that, of course, is the use of 3DCG animation as opposed to traditional style.

Deciding to use 3DCG, similar to that of Knights of Sidonia, was probably the biggest deterrent for those who saw past the generic premise and appearance. And in all honesty, just hearing of this news alone was probably the reason many overlooked this title altogether. Yes, the presentation can take some getting use to for viewers who don't find it aesthetically appealing, but for those not bothered by the occasional 'uncanny valley effect', the show remedied this problem better than most. Unlike Knights of Sidonia, the individual movements here show far more mobility. The soundtrack, composed of Gothic organs, booming 'Hans Zimmer' fog horn sections, heavy guitar riffs and more, also helps in compensating in places where the animation found itself lacking. It might not be by much for viewers who are bothered by even the thought of CGI, but it certainly made it a far more palatable experience for those that could see beyond that.

The fights that occurred throughout the series weren't reduced to two people smashing fists with no rational thought but are rather tactical bouts where Ajins and humans alike use their strengths and weaknesses against each other. Even with the clear advantage given to the Ajins, the human opposition still found many clever ways of exploiting their strengths by using it against them. This was also the case for when Ajins clashed among themselves. The show went into a decent amount of detail in explaining the body mechanics of the Ajins as well as the extent of their abilities. And the more an Ajin was aware of its abilities, the better it was at utilizing it in and outside the battlefield.

But perhaps the most apparent demonstration of the show's deviation from its inherent trappings can be found with the main characters themselves. In order to avoid turning this into a long-winded analysis, I'll go over only the two prominent characters highlighted throughout the show. They were far from being the most fully realized characters of the 2016 Winter season (that honor resides with Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu); however, they were still far removed from the cookie-cutter lineup that would come standard-fare with these stories. And what they may have lacked in development, they more than made up for with their distinct personality traits and interactions. They're simple, but at the same time, subjects who would make for interesting, if only brief, character studies.
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Take, for example, our main character, Kei Nagai. The first defining trait he exhibits immediately separates him from the atypical wide-eyed idealist, or the hot-blooded teen that come almost default with his role. Instead of a rehashed archetype with only a different coat of paint to define him, what we get is a selfish misanthrope who places his own self-preservation and needs above others. Whether he had to be deceptive or fake empathy to weasel his way out of trouble territory isn't of concern to him. There are no delusions of grandeur festering in his mind, he is very much aware of the extent of his capabilities, as well as his amoral standing with the world around him. And while not quite being pegged as a nihilist, he doesn't place trust in anything that isn't an irrefutable truth. Kei Nagai is a teen whom we've either seen or were at one point in our lives, which makes him one of the most honest depictions of this age group in some time. Unless he's given a feasible or self-beneficial option to assist someone, he will not go out of his way to aid them if it means placing his own life in harms way. Anything outside of that is merely done out of forced guilt or social obligation. This underrepresented type of character makes him far from your garden variety, and as a result, an intriguing one to follow.
And as much as some of us would like to take the moral high road in response to other people's suffering, the truth is most of us don't acknowledge it with any kind of substantial sympathy. And it's for this reason that our protagonist becomes not only well-depicted but also easily identifiable for our modern society. Now this isn't to say some won't find his actions deplorable; there are certainly lots of people out there with a strong moral fiber, but his personality and actions are properly documented for the audience to understand his psyche, regardless of one's own personal ethics. He isn't going to fulfill the role of any white-knight advocate anytime soon, but in the context of the story he's placed in, his personality is tailor-made for the current social climate.

And while Kei Nagai retains the main character role, the true star of the series was none other than Satou. Satou, also nicknamed "The Hat" by officials, is quite the enigmatic figure. With a hospitable, soft-spoken demeanor upon initial contact, he brings with himself an aura of accumulated wisdom, but lurking just below the surface of his thinly veiled smile lies a man with a very twisted moral compass. Like the hybrid of a cunning old fox and someone akin to that of Magneto from the X-men franchise, there's nothing he won't do in order to reach his intended goal. While wanting for the betterment of his Ajin brethren, the path he takes to get there is paved with the blood of opposition and bystanders alike, all while sadistically reveling in the madness he brews up. He's a charismatic demon in sheep's clothing, a man who nonchalantly goes about his business with no sign of remorse, which is made all the more menacing given his weathered age. Any youth can demonstrate raw ferocity towards someone, but it's the carefully calculated approach of a much older man that strikes fear into the officials in this series. Satou, for all intents and purposes, is the show's undisputed badass, a title he more than lives up to.

Another character worth briefly addressing was Yuu Tosaki, an official who balances out the opposing ideals of Satou and Kei. He's your "all business no pleasure" kind of detective who is given the task to apprehend the Ajins at any means necessary. While he came across as one note in the beginning, that is later alleviated with the reveal of his motivation. Outside of Yuu Tosaki, the rest of the secondary characters aren't fleshed out to any extent, but they are given distinct enough personality traits to make their inclusion warranted. All in all, the characters, whether important or minor, helped in bringing the world and conflict to life.

This title proves that even action shows can have some level of thought and planning placed into them. It never tried to be something far more than what it was and performed well with the material it had to work with. For those thinking that this would be just another bishounen-cock-fight title, I implore you to discard that premature notion and give this show a try.


Enjoyment: 8.5/10

There was never a dull moment with this anime. With a plot that continued to push forward and main characters that constantly kept me on the edge of my seat, I found a great deal of enjoyment here. Satou's actions alone were more than enough for me. While the art was a bit off-putting at times, I still walked away satisfied. In terms of quality, it's somewhere between Tokyo Ghoul and Parasyte. If TG were McDonalds and Parasyte were a 5-star restaurant, then Ajin would be your local diner.

Overall: 7/10

Ajin was a show that could have easily dissipated under the weight of its own premise but managed to hold up incredibly well. With narrative choices and thoughtful insight that demonstrated a level of competency lacking in similar titles, Ajin has proven to be a show worth the initial investment. And with everything being taken into consideration, Ajin has become one of the few documented cases of "edgy shounen" done right.

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Erased Anime Review

Erased Anime Review:

With any established community there are traditions that take fruition from within it. And when it comes to the anime community that tradition can be seen with the ritualistic assignment of labels that is accompanied with every new seasonal lineup. Each season's catalog is cherry-picked through by the ascending masses to be filed away in neat little categories that're decided by whatever the common consensus is at that time. And it's thanks to this unspoken system that we get our "anime of the season," "hidden gems" and "BURN WITH FIRE" shows that, for the most part, seems to be what the general audience agree upon. But among these rank-and-filed titles, we always have at least one show that splits the community into opposing camps; with one side exalting it as the next best thing since sliced bread and the other side wanting its head on a stick. These contentious titles ignite the embers of flame wars across several forums and opens the floodgates for keyboard warriors to caps lock the hell out of each other. These are often the most "hyped" show for that given season and tend to remain that way long after its airtime. Ladies and gentlemen, Boku dake ga Inai Machi (or Erased) is without question that title for Winter 2016.

If I was to give a very brief overview of Erased it would be this: engaging 1st half, deplorable 2nd half.

Erased is the type of show that will get under many peoples' skins. There are titles, that upon a 1st glance, you could easily deduce that it will be no better than B-grade schlock, and then there's shows that genuinely get your interest. For most, Erased will be the latter. With a somewhat firm grasp on cinematography, color placement and all around competency in crafting a grounded setting, Erased upon initial viewing, appeared to be one of the most promising prospects from Winter 2016. It exuded this feeling of self-control over its actions that became quite easy to buy into. A reassuring appearance that it will be a smooth ride from start to finish. The reason these kind of titles are more bothersome as opposed to the shows that are instantly identified as bottom-rung, is that with lesser tier titles, there's no expectations set for it. When I view an "Akame Ga Kill" or "Asterisk War" level show, quality is the last thing that comes to mind. I know as a viewer that what I'm getting ready to watch will, at its very best, be easily digestible excerpts of things I've seen done far better. On the other hand, shows that allure me into anticipating something far more substantial carries with it a higher sense of investment. So when these titles fall under their own weight, it packs a bigger punch. As a viewer, there's nothing more disheartening to witness than untapped potential being flushed down the toilet. And like its namesake, Erased "erased" any chances of being herald as anything more than a novelty act.

Instead of reciting the synopsis I'll go right into addressing where Erased showed commendable effort and how it eventually unraveled into a hokey hogwash.

Time-travel as a plot device in any story can be a fickle thing to work with, the slightest overuse or tampering of it to alleviate inevitable conclusions can quickly result in audience backlash with the collective chant of "bullshit!" being ushered out in response. The best use of time-travel is really not using time-travel at all but there's a reason why it's still a compelling tool for writers to dabble with. It can open up scenarios and prospects that previously were made unavailable in the conventions of regular stories. So the reasonable solution for those instances is finding restraint in when and how time-travel is used in the confines of the narrative being presented. This was an area that Erased seemed to have covered relativity well. The main character can jump back in time a few minutes before something tragic happened, as stated by the synopsis. What made this use of time-travel welcoming was that despite this ability, he himself has no true control over these time jump occurrences; the option to jump at will is out of his hands. With this stipulation set in place, Erased found a reasonable limitation to work with. It eliminated the misuse of time-travel by the protagonist to retcon any events whenever the writer sees fit. But as you may have surmised by my statements regarding this show's 2nd half, this established restraint doesn't remain constant, and that spells the first major misstep of the show.

The second major catalyst that crippled Erased was its genre itself. Marketed as a mystery anime, Erased spent a great deal of time foraging through its settings and characters living in it. This is what indirectly set up the first half to seem so promising. There were layers of detail being caked onto the "mystery" story, which helps to better define it to the audience. Erased felt like a place not too far out of reach from our own world, thanks in no small part to the extra time dedicated to making the experience as cinematic as possible. With widescreen angles (Letterboxing) implemented in certain crucial moments, to off-kilter camera angles that helped express messages without the need for expository dialogue, everything the show was doing up to a certain point showed a level of quality not often seen in the anime industry. It was able to build suspense using music cues and proper lighting, giving life to its mystery through comprehensible visual motifs and proper use of color placement. The show expressed capabilities far more common in the world of cinema than what anime usually dabbles with. It's for reasons like these that many flocked to it, labeling it as one of the best without so much as to second guess their stance. And ultimately it's this that also fended off proper judgment for the far inferior 2nd half. The frenzy was too high for rationality to kick in.

While the quality of the show's visual and audible presentation remained relatively consistent, the same could not be said about the writing. When I mentioned the show's genre being a detriment, this is where that becomes apparent. With the primary genre being "mystery," one would think a great deal of time would be dedicated to making that aspect as foolproof as possible, but what we got was nothing short of underwhelming. To those unfamiliar with the purpose of a 'red herring' in a story, it's something or someone that's manifested and exists for the purpose of misleading the viewer from the truth. It's like the slight of hand trick practiced by a magician, while the real action is happening out of sight. A red herring isn't supposed to be your answer but rather a falsehood that takes on the shape of an answer. In a mystery story, red herrings are those clues that lead to a dead end, or the suspects surrounding the true culprit that detracts the viewer from the correct answer. At no time is a red herring suppose to be a final conclusion. Even when there is an attempt to subvert this fact, all that does is make what appears to be the "truth" to be nothing more than another red herring in disguise. So when Erased effectively missed this fundamental fact, it is nothing short of baffling.
In what was an attempt to curve the obvious fake out into the actual truth, Erased single-handily shot itself in the foot. These are the actions of a satire that pokes fun of the genre, not a show that is a part of it, which made the mystery of Erased to be an unintentional joke to those keen to this fact and an underwhelming reveal to those still infatuated with the show up to that point. No one walks out a winner, both cynics and fans alike lose in this situation. Had Erased place in some kind of deviation from the elephant in the room this wouldn't be a problem but poor planning sadly killed those chances. This anime was one script revision away from being passable.

Even if one was to view the show as a thriller (a very common excuse used by detractors that stand against the title's criticisms), it still doesn't hold much merit. A thriller, like its namesake would imply, is a genre that's supposed to "thrill" the audience with an exciting, often intense plot, where the tension feels ever-present and a sense of urgency is placed on the viewer for the character's well-being. It's wound up dread followed by cathartic release. A very textbook component that's the backbone of any successful thriller. That being said, it's hard to be "thrilled" when the narrative makes irrational decisions that quickly breaks immersion, or deflate any tension that was built up with an anticlimactic conclusion. You're supposed to be in a state of nervous anticipation as to the outcome of a storyline, not scratching your head questioning the leaps in logic of said outcome. If a convenient ticket out of every impending danger is offered to the characters, then how could their predicament be anything short of a temporary bump in the road? Without a proper end result to any build-up, the show is essentially leaving you mentally flaccid. When a show continuously makes decisions that negate risk or impending danger, then it ceases to lack consequence in the eyes of the viewer. A thriller with no substantial consequence is like a mystery with no red herrings; and wouldn't you know it, Erased ended up being insufficient in both aspects.

This half-baked writing also seeped its way into the visual presentation, as the show's ineptitude in handling its symbolism and motifs became quickly apparent. What is important to note is the proper usage of these elements in a story and not the actual meaning of said elements. In any form of grounded storytelling, symbolism and motifs are suppose to be implemented with finesse. They're placed there to add subtext to what is being presented at face value. They're things that don't necessarily need to be identified to properly understand what you're watching, but upon analytical inspection, adds a new layer of meaning to what is presented on screen or implied in the narrative. To put it in layman's terms, they're like brownie points for those that dig deeper into the subject matter they're presented with. That being said, when these literary devices are spoon fed to the audience, it defeats the purpose of their usage. At that point, it's no longer a praiseworthy effort, but something that's equally detestable with the likes of lazily implemented expository dialogue. It's the difference between letting the visuals and action speak for themselves, oppose to beating the audience over the head with the obvious answer (Yes MothersBasement, red = danger.. In other news, cows go moo). Something being symbolic doesn't inherently make it good, an aspect that Erased failed to comprehend.

And like a snowball effect, all these shortcomings kept on culminating into something far too glaring to be rectified. This brings us to the conclusion of the plot in the show's 1st half, which saw our protagonist Satoru muster everything in his power to protect Kayo. All of the show's efforts were slowly crafted around this plot. It was a gradual buildup to Kayo's revelation in the story. This brought with it the show's best efforts. Viewers were swayed into investing in this conflict, which became more gripping by each new episode. "Will Satoru finally save her?" "Would his efforts be in vain?"; these and many more questions were raised along with the stakes as things drew closer to its final destination. And after all the layers of suspense, all that attachment, all that investing... the conclusion quickly deflated in value by a poorly-realized, rushed solution that saw a character be re-written and patronized, while simultaneously removing one of the central focuses from the story entirely. So when one of the biggest investments for many viewers were removed from the equation, all these aforementioned issues that were initially dismissed, no longer had anything to hide behind. The shit was out in the open, it was just a matter of stepping back to finally realize it.

If I had to say what the biggest issue with Erased was it would be that all of the great aspects of it, all of the promises it made, and all of the standards that it set, was quickly counteracted by the occurrence of everything in the 2nd half. While the same issues were also there in the 1st act, it was never made apparent when the show pulled focus away from it. For every high point that Erased offered, an equally appalling low point balanced it out. It was a duality that kept it from being any better than where it ultimately ended up in the end.

Enjoyment: 6/10

For the first 6 episodes or so Erased was quite the enjoyable experience. I was invested in the conflict, I wanted to see the protagonist succeed, as well as uncover the mystery surrounding the killer. The show had my interest. But just as quickly as it drew me in, it lost me with the same speed. The 2nd half of Erased is nothing short of painfully mediocre to intellectually insulting. It was disappointing to see what it could have been, and how it turned out instead.

Overall: 4/10
Erased could have been great, what it did well it did exceedingly well, the potential was there in ample proportions. But almost like a countermeasure, when it faltered it didn't just trip a little before catching itself, no, when it fumbled, it pretty much fell down a flight of stairs, breaking every bone on its way down. So do I recommend Erased even with acknowledgment of this? Yes, I do. Despite what trouble it had, later on, the 1st half was enjoyable enough to still warrant giving it a try. You may not like the end result but there's enough inherent value here for the 12 episodes to be worth going through for yourself.

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Should I Watch Attack on Titans season2?

Should I Watch Attack on Titans season2?:

Anticipation.

Blistered, sunburnt skin adorns them, the lumbering thud of footsteps echoes louder with each passing second, their eyes set on a village lying dormant up ahead. Exposed flesh shifting between the woods, no expressed interest for the plant life or animals grazing at their feet. Warped facial expressions, a thousand-yard stare, distorted features, twisted limbs, an ungodly creature, a true force of nature. Deformed giants with one thing in mind.

Beady eyes stare back at the impending danger, irises frantically shifting from each other to the threat slowly approaching with each step, the military cradled behind stone walls planning their first strike. In the dead of silence, every sound amplified. Every second longer than the last. A cacophonous mixture of bated breath, the clanking of metal harnesses strapped to their bodies, housing blades and gas canisters that will eventually propel them towards the enemy. Cold sweat rolls down their cheek, hanging off the chin with nervous anticipation. Faces to the left and right, the unspoken acknowledgment made by brothers-in-arms that this will probably be their final resting place. Too late to back down, too late to think about it. The giants draw near, young scouts fall into dead silence, the slightest whimper exposing their position, sweaty palms firmly gripping their weaponry's handles, blades erected waiting for the signal to go. The longest minute of their lives.

Action.

The signal is given, piston-propelled grappling-hooks pierces its way through a firm surface, a loud unified roar ushering them into battle — "Attack!" — Humanity's final defense catapulting through the sky, wings of freedom crest embroid on their backs, as they stare down the mass collection of imposing figures. The battle begins, blades being embedded into the necks of targets as they fall to their knees. Men carelessly swinging into the jaws of another, blindsided in the fray as the Titan crunches down, blood confetti sprays out, showering the field with the unholy reality of the situation at hand. Human debris piles up next to the simmering sounds of corroding titan flesh. Steam billowing out bloated corpses as it blankets the field, men and Titan alike stuck in the disarray of a free-for-all. Fear and adrenaline push men forward where their bodies refuse to budge, while others cower in defeat, accepting the grim outcome of their faith. An insatiable desire to consume keep Titans swarming where an absence of "self" resides. The fight rages on.

There's no chess game at play here. No battle of wits. No war cry to rally any remaining fighting spirit. All that's left in the midst of chaos is an animalistic drive to kill or be killed. Men swinging their blades frantically, bodies jettisoned by wire towards the unknown hidden behind plumes of smoke. Uncaring giants solely driven by a gluttonous appetite, grabbing at any signs of human life, unfazed by the burning ash of their reduced numbers laid to waste by the prey they feast on. All concerns are eclipsed, all formalities discarded, idealism abandoned, time holds still, the nightmare stretches on endlessly... until there's no one left to keep it alive.

Aftermath. 
Scattered limbs litter the ground with no owners to claim them. The earth soaks up the battered dregs of human remains, leaving only remnants to be discovered by those unfortunate enough to stumble upon it. Regurgitated balls of bodily fluids perched on top fallen victims, disfigured men trapped inside, destined to stay nameless. Steam gently ascends to the sky, departing from the mass graveyard positioned below. Men on horseback approach the sorrowful sight, disgusted but desensitized to what's become far too common of an occurrence in their day to day lives. A ghoulish figure hunched over, tearing into the flesh of a nameless scout, unconcerned with the men gathering around it. Quickly being dispatched by them, they see no triumph in their action, only another hopeless notch under humanity's belt. Their time for peace has long departed, leaving it its place a constant dread of the unknown. From the sporadic home invasions of Titans to even the secrets concerning the walls themselves. Things that were once thought of as reassurances now only add to the anxiety pending up with each violent encounter.

When your home turf is compromised, where else can you turn? When your overseers keep potentially harmful secrets from you, who can you trust? The mystery compounded, the fights more brutal, and the stakes set higher than ever. This is the kind of world Attack on Titan gives birth to. A place dictated by stonefaced laws of Darwinism in every regard. A place that's adored the world over by the audiences that flock to it.

Reception. 

Attack on Titan left big shoes to fill since its 2013 debut. Almost overnight, it became one of the most popular anime titles of all time, effectively surpassing the glass ceiling set over the medium at large to become a noticeable player in the stratosphere of everyday pop culture. Even if that success was to a lesser degree when compared to the likes of "the big 3" and the Dragon Ball franchise that made its way out as well, its impact was still noticeable, both domestically and overseas. This, alongside works like Sword Art Online, has positioned it as one of the poster-child images of what "anime" is to non-anime fans of the 2010s. Occupying shelf space in your local Hot Topic, being mentioned in passing by those oblivious to the entire culture at large, a conversation starter to introduce others to an active community that bubbles on the surface but never making enough big waves to become acknowledged on a mainstream level. The show's relevance in recent years cannot be understated.

It's a new footnote that continues the narrative, helping push the medium and partakers of it a step closer to accessibility in other avenues of a broader mainstream culture. Because of its exposure, for many, Attack on Titan became their initial gateway title into the anime medium. And as such, a milestone entry when searching for that same thrill that it offered up on its initial encounter. For better or for worse, AoT shaped the landscape of future anime entries, many of which seeking to retain the newfound fanbases that sprouted because of it. And while there was a sleuth of cheap knock-offs offered up to keep the flame burning since then, nothing was capable of whetting the appetite in the same way it did.

4-years and many cheap imitations later, AoT has reemerged once again! But the question is, is it 4-years too late? 4-years may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, but for media, it's practically a millennium. A lot could happen in 4-years. New emerging trends develop, talented figures could make their debut presence, a shift in the landscape in favor of real-world sociopolitical events could occur, and most importantly, the demands of people can evolve as they foster different tastes and interests.

You don't have to look far to see these occurrences happening. In the movie industry, more specifically, tentpole blockbusters, superhero films have effectively become the new age westerns, to the point where watching them becomes a ritualistic event shared by a mass majority, making those that don't participate outsiders to watercooler conversations. In music, the new "wave" in the past few years has been trap-inspired production and dancehall-influenced rhythms, a transition that's proven to be so successful that even megastars that dominate the pop charts are flocking to get in on the action. Even in our own backyard, in the world of anime, creating "subversions" or reimaginings of established formulas, from the likes of MMO-inspired premises to superhero stories, is the popular thing to do at the moment, with many recent hits owing their success, to some degree or another, to that directional approach.

Media is a beast that's constantly shifting in order to appease the masses, unless the pedigree of the product in question is of a high caliber, expecting it to stay still until your return is foolhardy, and from a marketing standpoint, a huge risk to take.

So, did Attack on Titan's gamble pay off? Well, it all depends on where you stand as a viewer.

Fortunately for Attack on Titan, the efforts of its bottom-rung imitators served a purpose. Like the MMO and superhero premises that dominate the current landscape in anime, post-apocalyptic stories are still in high demand as well. The manner in which it is received, however, is a completely separate issue. You see, within that 4-year period, those rose-colored lenses that many fans may have had during its initial run may no longer be there, or at the very least, those "lenses" have since been washed out to something closer to transparency, as it usually do when someone grows older and become accustomed to certain things. Where they could have been hoodwinked with a few plot twists and shocking moments before, the chances of that level of susceptibility dwindles as time passes. With every encounter made with something employing the same general gimmick, the magic is now met with a response succumbed to apathy. Each time something that appears novel makes itself known, the next encounter of the same content slowly morphs into a future cliche in the making. It's the gift and the curse that comes with transitioning oneself towards a more seasoned mindset. There still may be an eager audience waiting to see the story unfold but that's usually accompanied with a higher level of skepticism, making the work of any follow-up season that much harder to live up to the initial "hype" that came with its debut. It's for that reason that the infamy of the "sophomore slump" exists, and to no one's surprise, Attack on Titan's 2nd season is met with a divisive mixture of applauds and woes.

So, reader, do you gawk at the attempts made by the 2nd season to employ the same bag of tricks, or do you approach in a way that many veteran viewers do when watching something as flamboyant as Attack on Titan? If you're reading this review, I'm going to make the assumption that you're not comprised of the mass majority that doesn't care either way. As far as your viewpoint goes when discussing AoT after finishing this review, I leave that bit of trivializing up for you to decide. Everything moving forward is just me pleading my case and my stance on the matter, so take from it what you will.

The reception I have for AoT's 2nd season is pretty straightforward, I love every minute of it! It's just as nutty, over-the-top and gratuitously violent as I remembered. It's a show that brings me back to a time where excessive violence and cool ass action scenes were the only things that interested my viewing habits. A time in my life where movies like The Matrix and Equilibrium were as coveted as holy scripture and any verbal disapproval of it was treated like sacrilegious acts.

Attack on Titan is just awesome! Schlocky, cumbersome, inconsistent, poorly written, overacted, exploitative, childish, melodramatic, hammy, riddled with plotting and tonal issues... BUT still fucking awesome! And while I do love it to bits, those issues I mentioned are still there, and seeing that this is a review and not a drunken get-together with friends where we scream "FUCK YEAH!!!" at the top of our lungs to people being chomped in half by giant naked people, I will judge it accordingly.

Fidelity.

What a pleasant surprise. I think I express the sentiments of many when I say that I approach most sequels with a great deal of apprehension. More often than not, sequels tend to disappoint and for understandable reasons when examined. If it follows the 1st installment verbatim, it's simply seen as a rehash, if it veers off course too much then it runs the risk of not capturing the essence that made 1st great. It's that old adage expressed by many “You’ve got your whole life to write your first record, and only a few years to write the second.” So when I sat down to be immediately met with the familiarity of AoT's flare for the dramatic still intact, I was more than pleased. Even after the first season, where I felt that the show may have exhausted every possible gruesome fatality or creative action scene in its arsenal, this follow-up season somehow managed to ratchet up the stakes and tension while keeping the locations and bloodbath battles fresh and exciting.

The spirit of AoT was carried over seamlessly and with its usual offering of plot twists and shock factor moments being placed center-stage, there was never an episode that passed by that felt stale or repetitive.

This consistency stood true for the art and animation as well. With new locations and settings being introduced, the expansion that was already given from season one is further complimented here. Employing the same European-like building structures and familiar environments, marathoning both seasons would yield very little in the way of distracting changes. It's fresh but familiar. Changing things up when necessary but never to the point of alienation. Although, there was an issue present that might turn some people off. The usage of CGI is far more prevalent this time around, and admittedly, lazily implemented at times as well. Scenes of men on horseback for example, when the camera pulls back for an aerial shot, you can see them galloping above the surface of the ground, giving this look of a 3D rendered image being dragged across a landscape in post-production. This hovering effect is amateurish for a studio that's usually praised for doing above average in this department. The CGI used for the giant titan was also distracting. Not for the actual look of the Titan itself but for the framerate, which wasn't succinct with the animated shots of characters around it.

Other than the issues found with the CGI, the rest of the production was very appealing. It still is a bit disappointing though, knowing that with 4-years given to create a stellar product, Wit Studio ended up presenting us with such sloppy CGI work. And it's not like they had to touch up on their skills in this department, they've already proven that they're capable of meshing CGI with 2D animation just fine with their bootleg Titan show Kabaneri from last year. So to give their main cash cow second class treatment seems like a huge disservice. Whatever the reason behind the shortchanged service may be, here's hoping it doesn't continue with future installments. Thankfully, everything else was up to snuff, making those blemishes far more palatable than it would have been otherwise.

The story continues off with the slow discovery of new mysteries unfolding within the show's universe. The mechanics of how everything works are called into question, as the Titan face exposed from within the wall at the end of season one divulges into deeper secrets surrounding the church and the following occurrences that led up to the aftermath of Annie's capture. Tensions rise, as paranoia slowly seeps into the Scout regiments. with Annie being a Titan, the possibility of more traitors in the mix becomes a high possibility. The war is on both sides now, with Titans moving in headfirst and the fear of more enemies hidden within the ranks just lurking behind every corner.
And the rest of the story effectively follows a barrage of plot twists one after the other, of which, any type of hints would effectively spoil the surprise, so I'll leave that bit of discovery up for you to witness yourself. AoT does what it's best known for, delivering on nail-biting cliffhanger moments one after another. There's never a shortage of reveals being discovered here. Some that's a bit obvious for those paying attention and others that are completely left-field if the anime is your only exposure to the material at hand.

Accompanying men into battle we're given a fantastic musical backing, with thunderous drums, booming brass sections, and blood-curdling violin chords, all being wrapped up and carried off by the unified echo of a haunting studio choir. This is all then met with electrifying musical underpinnings, creating an electronic orchestric experience. And in the heat of battle, this soundtrack does an amazing job at giving the medieval setting a vintage feel while positioning it firmly in the 21st century. It's a clash of classical meets new that's unified under the constant sound of dread and hopeful ascension.

This makes it one of AoT's best highlights. Despite the shortcomings of the show's characters and script, this aspect remains a spotless feature, something destined to age incredibly well for years to come.

And since I just mentioned it and there's only so long that I could dance around the subject matter before pointing at the elephant in the room, time to discuss the aspects that constantly keeps AoT from reaching the ambitious heights that its universe desperately attempts to cling to.

Sloppy.

First and foremost, Attack on Titan's script is written as if the Caps Lock key was left on the entire time.

If this review was written in the way the characters were made to emote, EVERYTHING WOULD JUST BE WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS JUST LIKE THIS SENTENCE. And I'm sure I don't need to express just how distracting or ridiculous that could get. Inside voices are basically a rarity that escapes most inhabitants of this world. Couple that constant barking everyone is doing with some overexaggerated facial expressions, where the characters are given manic expressions, and you will be none the wiser had you just seen a clip and thought you were looking at an anime parody of shounens. Truth be told, part of the reason why I enjoy AoT so much is for this very feature. That schmaltzy level of overacting is something that constantly keeps me amused, but unfortunately, that's not the show's intent, as it displays no comedic bone in its body for any of these exacerbated scenes. This isn't Jojo's Bizarre Adventure where everything hints towards a tinge of comedic self-awareness, no, in Attack on Titan, everything is played seriously, causing it to come off like a hardcore circus act.
This can make some dramatic moments hard to invest into for those that take the show seriously. And it's for that reason that I ask how you're consuming Attack on Titan. Because if your approach demands no room for laughter, chances are, many scenes here may make you cringe instead of taking them seriously, as it could be difficult to see an armless Eren beating the living snot out of someone with his fingerless stumps, while foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. It's a show that can't escape the innate hilarity of some of its content. For me, part of the fun of AoT is seeing that constant struggle to capture authenticity and seriousness despite the content suggesting otherwise. Viewing it in this way may not be the original intent of the staff and creators, but it's entertainment at the end of the day, how I choose to enjoy it is entirely up to me.

Which brings me to the other issue that the show can't shake, poorly written characters.

Armin is the only character in all of Attack on Titan with a proper character arc. There's no arguing this, this is just a fact. Out of everyone presented, he remains the only one that was given any sort of layered characterization, internal reflection, and eventual growth that STAYED that way. For everyone else, Eren included, there's only a phantom resemblance of an arc, but in reality, their constant dominating character traits actually cause them to have the adverse effect. Instead of showing character development, they end up going through character regression instead. For the easiest example, let's take a look at Eren.

In the 1st season, they made it a point to show that he's a hardheaded young man who's willing to throw himself into the heat of battle whenever someone or something agitates him. Constantly short-tempered and outspoken, he's made out to be a very unlikable person to many around him. His hostile behavior usually led to him getting into physical brawls with older authority figures and even his fellow peers. Understandably, at first, he only had a few friends that took to his side, those being Mikasa and Armin respectively. And even then, it could be argued that during that time, those two friends were only earned due to certain circumstances. Because of Eren's pivotal role in Mikasa's past when they first met, she felt a sense of obligation and appreciation for his actions, which eventually led to an appreciation for him as a person as a result. And after being placed under the same roof, it was easy to nurture a relationship, given that they got time to know each other on a day to day basis. In Armin's case, Eren represented the bravery he lacked for himself, as he constantly stood up for him when he couldn't fight for himself. He basically saw him as the big brother he never had. In both cases, Eren's pigheaded resilience and loyalty to those he cares for were what won them over. And so, a rebellious character trait is quickly established.
Later on, as the series progresses, he was placed in circumstances where that very personality was used as a catalyst for his growth, more specifically, when he was placed in situations where his pigheaded attitude endangered the lives of people around him. The biggest highlight of this comes with the time he spent under Levi's camp, as well as his transformational moments as a Titan. long story short, his outbursts began to affect more than just his pride, it caused several irreversible incidents where his actions were directly a part of the problem. This eventually culminated to what looked at the time, like Eren turning a new chapter in his life. He's now more calm, even mindful of the ones around him. He understood that his behavior isn't doing anyone any good. And as his bandaged body sat upright in bed with Mikasa staying by his side comforting him, Eren's journey in the first season came to a reasonable point of conclusion.

Fast forward to the second season and all of that is immediately flushed down the toilet for an instant character reset. Any semblance of growth shown is immediately replaced back with the same hot-blooded behavior and hammy overacting he was notoriously known for. This form of character regression isn't excused as someone stuck in their old ways, it's the act of behind the scene creators understanding Eren's marketability as an angry youth. The only reason this was done was to sell the audience a sense of familiarity. People are weary of any kind of change and so Eren is forced to remain two-dimensional, regardless of any personal revelations he may have had.

And before there's confusion on what qualifies as growth, no, receiving a backstory isn't it. A backstory only helps when the character in question grows further from the present day acquaintance with them.

The rest of the characters can effectively be boxed into neurotic personality traits. It's the type of show that relies on the ensemble cast to carry the personality that any given individual may lack. Think of it like colors in a rainbow, everyone involved is basically an individual color, making them basic when alone but exciting when placed together. It's a common trick to use when there are too many characters involved in a show primarily driven by the narrative.

And speaking of the narrative, possibly the biggest complaint launched at Attack on Titan ties into this.

Honestly speaking, AoT has very little in the way of a well-written story. It's a show that's overly reliant on over-the-top plot twists, mystifying everything as to appear enigmatic, and a gratuitous about of shocking deaths and revelations made at the drop of a hat to keep audience attentiveness. And as it is in the case of the overacting, this too is something I enjoy about the show. It's like a constant wack at a visual piñata, with each hit revealing something unknown inside. To me, that's the reason AoT is such an entertaining piece of media, it's its ability to constantly unveil new, and often ridiculous, plot revelations. Each time you return, it has something new to offer, regardless of how familiar it may get to other moments prior.

But again, that's just the way I choose to consume and enjoy the show, as for the pedigree of writing on display, it's absolutely abysmal. It's a show that's reliant on your acceptance to a myriad of plotting inconsistencies, excessive mental gymnastics in regards to many of its plot twists, and a high suspension of disbelief for the mechanics of its universe. If you're an astute viewer, there would be many times when you're forced to call into question the validity of the events playing out. And if you choose to take the show seriously and hate it as a result, I completely understand why.

I usually distance myself from the community and their consensus in regards to any show when I'm working on a think-piece about it, but with Attack on Titan, that's proven to be virtually impossible, especially for someone like myself that's made it a habit to publicly air out my opinions. Several people approached me with their thoughts on the show and after awhile, I began to notice the thread of a narrative taking form, which admittedly, affected the way I approached this title as a result. And for the sake of bringing clarity to what I think has become a misinformed argument that's been generated towards this second season, I will address that general complaint here and now.

If you felt like the quality of this season has significantly dipped since the debut of the 1st, please rest assured that it haven't, it's you as a viewer who's grown beyond the content at hand. All these complaints launched at the show now are just as applicable to what was given from the very beginning in 2013. Season one had just as much diluted plotting, expository verbal dumps, long periods of substance-less content and character victimizing. It's only now that you're older does those issues become more apparent. 4-years is a long time, and in that time, you're bound to grow up as a viewer, even if you still find yourself indulging in the same kind of content. Your awareness of it has simply matured since then. Quality-wise, both seasons of Attack on Titan are on the same level. The only difference found are minor and not worth elevating the first installment leagues ahead of this follow-up.

And with that being addressed, it's time I wrap this review up.

Conclusion.

If you were to ask me what my favorite anime viewing experiences were based solely off of entertainment value and absolutely nothing else, Attack on Titan would easily rank up there with Death Note and Kaiji. As an overblown form of media, the show is a constant roller coaster ride of violence and plot twists, all beautifully set to a great soundtrack and nice visuals. Content-wise, it has very little to offer, and honestly, without the constant barrage of bloody fatalities and sensationalized violence, I would probably get bored with it. But as it stands, this anime represents "hype-inducing" content for me in the truest sense of the term.

It's a hammy, grindhouse-inspired work of artistically shot ultraviolence. Like a big lovable oaf, a show oblivious to just how ridiculous every situation presented is. It's pure spectacle, plain and simple. It's one of my favorite pieces of schlock of all time and a show I will revisit many times to come because of that. 

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Should I watch Boku no Hero Academia 2nd Season?

Should I watch Boku no Hero Academia 2nd Season?

Author: ZephSilver ON MAL

It's easy to point the finger at Boku No Hero Academia and label is as just one in the same with any other shounen that populates the medium. To make broad statements like the characters themselves are just repackaged personalities with only a fresh coat of paint and appearance to their name. Or something to the effect of its story being recycled. And if you were to choose that stance, defendants would be hard-pressed to argue against it. But if you did choose that stance, that then calls into question the very essence of critiquing a shounen in such restrictive terms, to begin with. 

If a shounen isn't allowed to be about the fundamental fight between good and evil with said fights being carried out through the proxy of colorfully decorated personalities, then at what point does it cease to make sense for it even to be made at all? Or better yet, why bother to scrutinize it for doing what that genre has been predicated on since its inception? At what point does valid criticism capsize towards the side of pointless nitpicking? You won't always discredit comedies for having situational humor nor will you shame an action movie for delivering on its promise of cool fights and chase scenes. So why then is that benefit not allotted to shounens for being just that; a shounen? What I’m trying to say in more words or less is if a shounen isn't allowed to be a shounen without being reprimanded, what purpose does it even serve to critique it?

With all that being said, couldn't a shounen that operates within the realm of its genre commonalities be allowed to revel in it, even if it may air on the side of self-indulgence at times? I say it should. Not every shounen could escape its role to become Fullmetal Alchemist nor should it be required to. In the same way, not every action movie is expected to be a seminal time marker in the way The Matrix did for bullet-time effects and stylized violence or Inception for its audiovisual craftmanship and technical proficiency. Sometimes, being the byproduct to ride the wave of other tentpole entries is just fine. And in that regard, Boku No Hero Academia has proven to be a steady entry in the ever-expanding superhero/shounen canon, and I see no reason to ostracize it because it isn't overly ambitious.

What can and will be critiqued, however, is the eternal mechanics of its universe and the functionality of all the moving parts — characters and their purpose notwithstanding. No matter the demographic or genre it services, poor writing isn't autonomous to critique, and in my opinion, that’s the space where a reviewer is needed to occupy. The utilization of literary devices is something all storytelling media shares, and it’s in this truth that we can properly gauge quality-control in a fair manner. We don’t need critics to tell us that “SPOILER ALERT, shounens have very simple themes.” Anyone with a modicum of common sense could do that on their own. But what’s usually beyond the general knowledge of the viewing audience is the inner-workings that drive the content they consume. Basically, how well does the title in question use the tools at its disposal? And with that in mind, Boku no Hero Academia has some kinks it needs to iron out before it occupies any shelf-space alongside the genre’s cherished entries. Thankfully, this 2nd season shows promise of that possibly coming to fruition if they handle the content right moving forward.

But before we open that can of worms, let’s get everyone up to speed.

Coming off season one's finale, our group of young heroes finds themselves becoming in-house celebrities on their school's campus, and for good reason. They fought against real-world villains, a situation that's already rare enough for students but made all the more alarming given that the face-off took place on school grounds. This places everyone on high alert as they move forward with the calendar year. And as new challenges emerge to face them, this period of their lives will serve as their first jumping off point into finding out what it truly means to be a hero.

These set of challenges first starts off with a genre staple, the tournament arc. And let's just be honest here, this 1st arc is only paying lip service to having a plot while the true intent is allowing physical alterations to happen, and that’s fine. Of course, the writers conjure up a reason to justify this event, and wisely, they made sure their pretext reflected in the show’s in-world rationalizing as well, taking the edge off for anyone that may have noticed it for what it was. Since being a superhero is its own profession, many agencies choose this event to scout new talent, which also doubles up as a national sporting competition for regular civilians to enjoy. Which I must add is far better of an excuse for this setup than most people would give it credit. And while this arc came with all the bells and whistles that make any shounen tournament fun, it was also the weakest portion of the 2nd season for the reason that’s pivotal to making the whole thing work.

The thing that plagues this portion of the show’s run was something I praised the 1st installment of getting right the first time around. And no, it has nothing to do with the self-evident cliché of the arc’s existence. As I mentioned earlier, a shounen doing “shounen shit” is not my concern here. You don’t need me telling you how overused tournament arcs are, that point will already be reiterated to death by every pseudo-critic that will see this as an opportunity to attack “low-hanging fruit.” Instead, what I plan to address is the functionality of the show’s premise in this arc. And to address that, what needs to be called into question is something that’s perhaps the easiest for everyday viewers to comprehend. And that something is proper buildup and payoff.

The idea is simple, throughout the course of the show, the creators will attempt to build up several things — whether it be story or character-centric — and then proceed to pay off their efforts through the natural metamorphosis of the narrative. That “payoff” can either be the main climax of the story or just the resolution of a subplot within it.

To get a sense of this idea in action, let’s take a look at the following scenario:

Let's say there's a superhero introduced who is explicitly stated to have the power to spawn water cannons from his arms. With that character introduction and explanation given to his power, it’s reasonable to expect that the buildup will probably revolve around that power or the resolve of the character being tested. Whether against someone in specific or an event that calls for his specific ability, as long as that hero accomplishes or fails whatever the writers pit him against, it will serve as the payoff for his prominent introduction and highlighted ability.

This doesn't always mean there needs to be a payoff right away, but if the story dedicates time away from its central focus to build up something or someone else, it's usually meant to foreshadow a future event later down the line where that knowledge the audience is given will be reincorporated. Pretty self-explanatory, right? Now, let's look at an example of that being done correctly in the 1st season of Boku no Hero, most notably with our protagonist Midoriya.
He's shown as an astute kid that studies the anatomy and abilities of other heroes. This has become so synonymous to what defines him as a character that it’s even caught the attention of those around him. The buildup established has continuously been paid off with every physical altercation Midoriya finds himself in as he’s constantly shown strategizing ways to use his opponent’s strengths to his advantage, while also working with the limitations of his own power.

The buildup: his excessive studying. The payoff: his tactical prowess on the battlefield.

Now this is where the problem rears its ugly head in this season, throughout the entirety of the tournament arc, almost every buildup that doesn’t revolve around Midoriya or Todoroki, major or otherwise, was poorly delivered upon, and in some cases, completely abandoned altogether.

To help you spot this on your own, I will highlight a minor event in season 2 episode 3. Obviously, if you haven’t seen up to this point, there will be light spoilers ahead. Skip these two merged paragraphs if you want to avoid them.

In episode 3 at around the 4-minute mark, characters Kirishima and Tetsutetsu are shown crushed under a gigantic robot, something that both characters walks away from unscathed thanks to their quirks. One could harden like a rock while the other hardens like steel, a quirk that makes them the ultimate armor against things that would usually cause harm, or in some cases kill any other student that found themselves in the same predicament. What’s important here is that the show took time to pause during the tournament arc to specifically highlight this, subconsciously signaling to the audience that it will come into play later.
Not even a full 7-minutes later into the same episode at around the 11-minute mark, the show introduces an obstacle for the students to get through. This obstacle is a minefield covered with non-lethal explosive charges, a fact the announcer reinforces. It can harm the students but not to the point of endangering their lives. Now, this is very important to note, because like we already establish 7-minutes prior, two students survived what would in any other case be life-threatening injuries to other students without a quirk designed specifically to counteract it. So it stands to reason, this obstacle would be perfect for two students who can literally become armor, right? Wrong, because as far as the show is concerned, the only characters that matter at this point is the three main ones. And even without zeroing in on those two characters, everyone else, from the likes of Uraraka who’ve been shown to defy gravity to Hatsume who had gadgets made specifically for courses like this are all left not using their advantages to overcome the obstacle.

And this kind of logic occurs throughout the entire runtime of the tournament arc. Where the 1st season paid extra attention to its characters quirks and how they can be utilized in combat, in this arc these secondary characters are now used as dick-measuring extras to place the main ones on a pedestal. What I just highlighted was just one of several times this occurred.

With that kind of logic, it would be like if the example I gave about the water cannon superhero ends up finding himself in front of a burning building but instead of using his water cannons to put out the fire, he just stands there looking at it instead. If framed in the mindset that Boku no Hero does with its supporting cast, he would literally be doing nothing while the building catches ablaze, not out of negligence but because the writers simply didn’t pay off what they built up from the beginning.

Thankfully, the 2nd half of this season balances the power mechanics again. Something that’s complimented further with the far more interesting scenario they’re placed in.

What gives intrigue to the 2nd arc of Academia is how it chooses to challenge the notion of justice in a world overpopulated by quirk users. If 80% of the world have quirks, how can there be any stability in the superhero job sector? Well as it turns out, the answer to that question has already been written into the show, but it’s only now that the idealism of the classroom environment has been traded out for the reality of the world they live in that we get the answer. Just because someone could run doesn’t automatically qualify them to be an Olympic athlete. In the same way, their quirks, the one thing they thought made them special, doesn’t matter all that much if its usefulness becomes pigeonholed to limited uses. So beyond the students being challenged to use their skills in inventive ways in season one during all their physical exams, what the school environment was prepping them for was adapting in a world that doesn’t always play to their strengths. And this kind of thing can lead to compromise, and sometimes that’s not for the best.

This realization for those with an advantage could breed vanity, while others may grow in resentment to those at the top. So in that sense, justice in a world full of superheroes like this one could just amount to a rat race to profit and self-benefit. The idea of standing for what’s right is lost in a world where the bottom dollar might be all that matters for some. A diluted cesspool of what it means to be a “hero” has effectively worked itself into the mix. And in a system where the good guys can become no more distinguishable from a business person thinking with a capitalist mindset, radical ideas of reform can begin to emerge. Ideas that may be voiced by a fanatic but may still contain some truth behind it. This is something that seems to be the interwoven into the subtext of this 2nd arc while all the hero shenanigans happen on the surface. And perhaps a glimpse of future storylines to come. Either way, what’s important is seeing all the students hone their skills while realizing there’s much more to becoming a hero than what presumptions they may have had prior.

And yeah, a lot of this is based on conjecture, but going off the clues that the show keeps hinting towards, I won’t be surprised if the future installment of this series finds itself tackling the same sociopolitical dilemma that other superhero stories like Concrete Revolutio and Samurai Flamenco attempted to highlight. Either way, the future is looking bright for Academia if it manages to pull this off.

Of course, I don’t have to tell you that the art and animation look good; it’s Bones, good art and animation are in their wheelhouse. If you liked the comic book apparel of the 1st season, this season just doubles down on that. I could go on and on about how much fun the fights were or how catchy the soundtrack is but honestly, you don’t need me to tell you that, the work speaks for itself. But what I do want to get across is that this season seems to show the efforts of its prior storylines finally starting to pay off. Where the 1st installment helped set up the world and characters that live in it, here, all that establishment is finally being used to craft something far more interesting than the sum of its parts.

So no, I don’t think Academia is quite at that level to be celebrated just yet, but the groundwork has certainly been laid for future installments to come in and shake things up. But until that time comes, let’s just enjoy a shounen that’s comfortable in just being itself. 

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Should I Watch Flag?

Should I Watch Flag?

Author: ZephSilver ON MAL

Plumes of smoke rise out of the city skyline of New York, three firefighters covered in soot, the American flag hoisted out of the rubble left behind by the World Trade Center. Political tension permeates at Tiananmen Square, the audience looks on with bated breath as a man stands in front of a line of tanks in direct opposition, a human blockade. Pedestrians look on in the busy streets of Saigon, a devoted monk sits in a meditative position, as a raging fire consuming his body in silent protest. The end of World War II, a sailor’s arms wrapped around a woman, lips locked in the middle of Times Square, a moment of celebratory relief as civilians and sworn-in officers intermix.

These are all instances captured on film for everyone to witness. Images that could convey meaning, even for those without firsthand experience.

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

It's amazing what one picture can do. With just one image, our attention can be purchased back from the chaotic shuffling of everyday life. Something that could temporarily snap us out of our daily stupor; our focus readjusted. It could be something simple that resonates with us on a personal level or perhaps a quick glimpse into a truth that we abandon simply out of its inconvenience to our day-to-day lives. Confined within its framed border, a picture could tell a tale, capture an emotion, embody the essence of the period it was taken. It could be all that's needed to encapsulate a fleeting moment in time, preserving it for posterity, where it can live on in the memory of the next pair of eyes to gaze upon it. Whether on celluloid or pixelated, what matters, in the end, is its ability to grab the viewer's attention. And perhaps no better example of that are moments that are captured amidst human conflict.

For at the heart of the matter lies a common understanding that we can all share. Something that supersedes religion, race, ethnicity or any sociopolitical borders set in place to keep us apart. Through it all, the right image has the power to stir up an emotional response that takes far more than words to express. They become calling cards for truths. A way of giving tangible form to complex, and often nebulous, ideas. It’s for that reason that we continue to rely on them. Their ability to speak to us is timeless, even if the world around it continues to march forward.

And when it all boils down to it, it’s this rare phenomenon, this occurrence, that Flag attempts to capture. But perhaps more important than that is the way in which it goes about capturing it. A way that’s surprisingly underutilized, both in its presentation decisions and subject matter.

Documenting the civil war of a fictional country named Uddiyana, the show centers around a mission to retrieve a flag that’s become a symbol of peace, not only for the country’s residence but also the international community at large, after a photo was taken of it that immortalized its status as such. And while this retrieval mission is carried out by a small military unit in accompaniment with the same photographer responsible for giving the flag its fame, being brought onboard to help chronicle the mission’s success; the bigger truth for the mission’s significance gets unearthed in the process. As the agenda of all sides involved in the conflict, both domestically and on an international stage, slowly makes itself known to the people involved, what started off as a straightforward mission for an idealistic cause has effectively been turned into a labyrinth maze of political shuffleboarding. A maze that our characters find themselves becoming involuntary pawns in, as it slowly divulges into an elaborate zero-sum game.

By using the framework of this image phenomenon as its central premise, Flag crafts a narrative around a point of view that's usually gone unaccounted for, yet plays the most vital role in the reason these powerful images come into existence, in the first place. Here, we follow the brave men and women that are constantly seeking out the fringe to capture that perfect shot — the kind of picture that finds its place in the pages of historical texts. Whether the journalists in question are using this as a means of income or have a genuine desire to reveal the truth, Flag uses this kind of occurrence as an opportunity to view concepts far less nebulous than the sentimentality behind what they come to represent. A tale that takes on broad implications, yet, surprisingly enough, remains intimate. A type of intimacy that can only be birthed from the cold cynicism of politics once we discuss the presentation being used to contain it all.

What should be understood right up front is that the intended countries being emulated to create this fictional land is of little relevance, as the true importance here is how it will come to represent attributes of everyday conflict seen whenever bigger governing bodies meddle in the dispute of domestic issues. Flag slowly unveils all the chess pieces involved by situating its focus with people who find themselves being designated as the middlemen of public awareness and what occurs at ground zero.

To traverse this story, we follow Saeko Shirasu, a young photojournalist whom, unlike her peers, isn't interested in publicizing truths of some country’s conflict, but rather, uses this opportunity as a chance to carve out a purpose for herself through the photos she captures. Despite gaining recognition among her colleagues and media outlets for the famous image she captured regarding the civil war, there’s far more fueling her to undergo the mission to help retrieve the flag than anything constituted as “noble.” For Saeko, this is a task meant to help find who she truly is. In many ways, the story is every bit about Saeko as it is about the political climate she finds herself navigating across. Something that the show wastes no time in establishing with what’s arguably its biggest draw.

The anime shows everything in a POV (point of view) perspective. Well, to be more accurate, all the events are documented through recording devices located throughout the series. Daily diary vlogs that Saeko makes entries into; the accumulated recordings from her camera; photographs, and videos taken from colleagues; security camera footage implanted in vehicles and buildings, and every other method of data capturing in-between – Flag changes how we perceive this world by essentially turning it into moments stockpiled and fine-tuned through our very own viewfinder. There’s no cheating with elaborate aerial shots intended to enhance the action. Nor are there moments that make you question “Who’s filming this right now?” No, the creative minds behind this series treat their subject matter with respect, never giving into the temptation of excessive theatrics to heighten its drama. If it can’t be realistically captured, it does not get occupied space in this screenplay. This is what grants the show that coveted intimacy that many other creators would kill for. That feeling of isolation and immersion with the people we follow. The viewer isn’t granted a chance to become omnipresent, to shift through scene transitions or have everything laid at their feet through verbal narration. No, the only knowledge we acquire comes from events we see happen at real-time with the people we follow or come in the form of visual archives stored by multimedia devices that are offered to us to dissect whatever we will from it.

By doing this, the show can keep everything up close and personal, something that’s made all the more impressive given the all-encompassing nature of the civil war set on center-stage.

POV shots in storytelling isn’t a novel idea, but despite that, the way Flag goes about repurposing it to tell its story feels entirely fresh. This is something that could be attributed to the obsessive nature of Ryosuke Takahashi, one of the anime industry’s most overlooked auteurs. A man whose insistence for detail and distinct vision of warfare can be seen from his more commercial works (Blue Gender / Armored Trooper Votoms), to his pet projects (Gasaraki / Panzer World Galient). There’s always a general sense that the functionality of his works is something he keeps to the forefront of his mind whenever he’s constructing it. Nothing just happens for the sake of creating a great moment. Instead, great moments are created because what is happening onscreen doesn’t feel that far-off from whatever future-reality it might be channeling. And it’s this commitment towards plausibility that makes following Saeko and the military unit she partnered up with feel every bit as real as any journalist special that may be found time-slotted in CNN’s regular broadcastings.

There’s an understated cinematic fervor to the way the camera locks in its characters in this tumultuous experience. It has the biting grit of a TV series commissioned in the same stylistic vision of Oscar winners like Syriana, Black Hawk Down or The Last King of Scotland. This is seen with the key mechanics of the characters, as we track their involvement within the story. The way events play out in the absence of our protagonist’s view of it. The grainy shot of surveillance footage that’s juxtaposed to the crisp rendering of an expensive hand-held camera. Camera panning that constantly leaves the audience anticipating what will be shown next. These things that might be interpreted as minor flourishings to the untrained eye is ultimately the secret ingredient that helps this anime piece together a cinematic blueprint of its own. Giving a “bigger than the frame can contain” feeling to everything presented. A kind of cinematic engulfment that gives a feeling of involvement to everyone, even those living on the outskirts of the events taking place. It’s a show that gives a platform for those directly caught up in the conflict as well as the civilian bystanders that simply wish to maintain their way of life.

It doesn't just stop at seeing life through the lens but follows the men and women that directly and indirectly help in orchestrating the type of environment that will give birth to the type of photographs our protagonist just so happen to capture. An idea in documenting what goes towards the photo’s origins, both for the viewer and in this rare case, the taker of the image, creating with it a new way of soul-searching that comes as a direct result of these two worlds intermixing.

All of which starts off with the iconic image that carries the narrative from its beginning to its inevitable end. An image that is every bit as iconic as any real-life examples I’ve given at the beginning of this review:

A blue flag waves across the sunburnt landscape of this far-off country, as the armed resistance of the people raise their hands and weapons in triumph. War-torn pieces of a homeland ravaged by violence. Ancient Greco-Roman pillars of a forgotten time positioned firmly in the ground, light cascading through its columns. The silhouette of women praying amidst this small celebration, forever immortalized with their figures embedded in the sunlight and the iconic fabric in mid-wave.

It’s a powerful photo that manages to invoke both the strength of the people united and the hopes they have for peace going forward.

A photograph that will go on to become the calling card of the people, as well as a political asset for those operating with hidden agendas. Pretenses are forged behind it to justify political subterfuge, and while talks of peace are held in the open with smiling faces, bureaucrats and fanatics alike are busy thumbing away at the chance to set their plans into motion, as they masquerade behind falsehoods conjured up to win the trust of the people.
But where other shows would treat this as an opportunity to take a stab at the political system at large, here, it doesn't chastise the men and women of the army that fight blindly to the political agenda of those in charge. Nor does it make it its agenda to oversell the ugliness of these high-ranking figures' actions. Instead, Flag chooses to stand at the wayside, taking in all facets of the ongoing conflict and designating the characters in it as mere vehicles to see how each person chooses to deal with the situation at large. This gives us an angle that’s rarely explored in stories, well, at least never in this exact light.

In most forms of storytelling media, reporters and journalists are usually just there to fill in the role of expository delivers to the audience. Very rarely do these shows stop to get these people’s perspective, let alone follow them for the duration of its story, which is fascinating in and of itself when you stop to think about it. Here are people whose job it is to project a decorum of professionalism regardless of personal bias or situation. An act that’s all the more alarming when you get behind the lens, where the ones that capture random acts of violence towards others don’t even intervene, and in fact, are encouraged not to. People responsible for bringing humanity closest to the truth yet never get involved in it. A level of emotional withdrawal not only from oneself but humanity as a whole, yet at the same time, it’s these very same people that are expected to practice transparency once the greater powers at be decided what angle they will choose to approach the entire situation with.

And for a young woman who is still piecing together who exactly she is in this big, crazy world, that kind of responsibility – no – that kind of willingness to participate must take a mental toll on her, whether she’s fully aware of it or not. And it’s this very mental battle of uncertainty that’s eerily captured with pinpoint accuracy as we see her literally and figuratively look in the mirror, snapping a picture of herself, yet unable to recognize the person looking back in the cold, unfeeling reflection.

It’s powerful moments like these that truly elevate Flag to a place beyond boilerplate fiction, here, this title manages to obtain sticky instances of pathos that finds itself slowly taking ahold of you the more you let the content settle in. And personally, for me, it’s these kinds of moments that keep me constantly returning to the anime medium. It’s one thing to give birth to this phenomenon with real-life actors and actresses in a live-action feature, but it’s a complete other when the already thin membrane of suspension of disbelief for watching an animated title still manages to dupe the audience into forgetting that realization. By effectively obtaining that same level of human intimacy, despite the fact that it’s animated, even if the illusion only happens for a split second, Flag proves that there’s more here than simply mimicking documentary-style storytelling. And this is something the show manages to do on more than one occasion, crossing this threshold into realism more times than I could count. This makes it a feature deserving of far more appraisal than its meager existence as a mecha variant to the higher-budget alternatives. With everything considered, Flag is one of the medium’s more realistic utilization of mecha, politics, and human conflict in a not-too-far-off future, and it’s high-time it gets the proper recognition for that.

Admittedly, the show has its faults. Like anything else made around a specific time, what may once have been considered suitable, or in some cases, expected for certain features, can later run the risk of being viewed as an antiquated element, even going as far as being scorned in retrospect. And in the case of Flag, that aspect was easily its musical selection. Taken as a whole, the soundtrack of Flag demonstrates its fair share of musical highlights, but equally so, a noticeable number of pitfalls for those well-versed in warfare-focused stories. The opening song, to put it lightly, is very clichéd. The over-emphasized yodeling of a middle-eastern woman accompanied by grand orchestral gestures and tribal drum renditions, at this point in the world of storytelling, has been done ad nauseam in war movies and TV series alike. It’s the equivalency to every depiction of High School containing the popular girl with her two lesser-attractive sidekicks cat walking down the hallway as the main protagonist looks on in admiration. A kind of cliché that runs the risk of parody for anyone seriously thinking of incorporating it today.

Thankfully, the intent behind these musical embellishments felt like it came from a place of earnestness and not a result of corporate mandate. Anyone familiar with Takahashi’s directorial style or Yoshihiro Ike’s musical output would find it easy to forgive this treatment, and what I’m assuming would be the majority case, wouldn’t even have registered any of this as a problem at all. Given music’s subjectivity to the ear of the listener, this can simply be chalked up as a personal gripe derived from perceived oversaturation of a musical fallback for anything depicting a third world country.

But regardless of this personal gripe, Flag has become a title I find myself wholeheartedly cherishing for everything it brought to the table. Not only does it stand as a unique entry for anime in general, but beyond that point, it stands as a pillar of legitimacy that naysayers unfairly attempt to rob from the medium. An animated emulation of real-world conflict can stir up an emotional response with the best of them. It can still stand for something bigger than itself. It can still drive its message home with the same level of poignancy. But most of all, it’s deserving of the same level of respect allotted to features that occupy the big screen. And for that, Flag is an anime that earns its keep as one of the medium’s best-hidden gems. 

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