Wooper: I’m late with these posts so often that I ought to stop offering explanations – so I think I will. The Fall Season Preview will be up on time, though, and between JoJo, Cyberpunk, and a couple other web releases, it’s looking pretty ONA-dependent, which should give us plenty of time to catch up with all the spring and summer stuff we missed. Speaking of ONAs, there was a promising one from China that dropped last month – I’ve got preliminary thoughts on that show, plus a handful of others, after the jump. See you in a couple weeks!
Kore Kaite Shine – 2-4
It’s an interesting balancing act that Kore Kaite Shine has managed thus far. Protagonist Ai Yasumi is powered entirely by her love of manga, and she’s managed to establish a school club revolving around her hobby with the help of her friends, as well as demonstrate her potential as a mangaka to her mentor. There are plenty of limitations placed on her passion in these early chapters, however. Episodes 2 and 3 contained flashbacks to the hardships her teacher faced in securing an industry foothold, along with Teshima-sensei’s admonition that she mustn’t stake her life on manga. There’s also the rude awakening to her lack of writing prowess that she experiences in episode 4 – compared to the outstanding art of new recruit Fujimori, Ai’s stories receive much less praise, which clearly bothers her. She’s more or less remained her cheerful self despite these discouragements, but beneath its cutaway gags and manga-esque flourishes, KKS is obviously a dramatically adept show. Its excavation motif in episode 3’s flashbacks, for example, visualized the “digging” necessary for a young Teshima-sensei to produce a noteworthy work, and even then, all she earned was a bitterly disappointing honorable mention. I have to imagine that Ai will eventually aim for mainstream recognition, too, but as Teshima says in these episodes, “Readers are arrogant creatures.” That’s not just a sobering reminder of our non-creative stake in the work of manga (and anime) pros – it also foreshadows the hardships Ai will face in breaking through to an audience that may not appreciate her strange sensibilities.
Jiyi Guanli Ju – 0-2
Six years ago, an independent Chinese studio called Flint Sugar released a short film entitled Jiyi Guanli Ju (“False Memory”) with the intention of someday turning it into a series. Six weeks ago, their dream was made a reality when the first of the ONA’s seven episodes released on bilibili (the other six have since premiered, as well). Six days ago, I sat down with the original short film to see whether the internet’s FLCL comparisons were justified, and came away impressed. An alternately raucous and introspective affair, the False Memory pilot did boast a hint of that turn-of-the-century Gainax magic, but its rough linework and incorporation of live action photography gave the episode an identity all its own. For me, the vague mechanics of its Memory Bureau successfully reflected the unreliability of our own memories, and the action scenes eventually gave way to an emotional finish between a grieving boy and the friend that had emerged from his mind.
Fast forward either six years, weeks or days, and I’ve now seen the first two episodes of the series proper. So far, it’s more lethargic than the original, but conceptually it’s still terribly intriguing – plus, it’s far more polished than the pilot. Gone are the real world photographs, replaced by split screen shots and shifting aspect ratios to differentiate between the real world and the realm of memory where protagonist Guan Chao eventually finds himself. There are more Memory Bureau departments and employees now, but their stories haven’t yet converged, and the real world mysteries established in episode 1 are unlikely to be revisited for a while. Unlike the one-and-done version from 2020, the success of the series will depend on whether all of these ideas can be synthesized by the end. Given its subject matter, though, that won’t mean explaining itself so much as providing plausible interpretations for its striking images. I’m down for that – are you?
Sayonara Lara – 2-4
I’m in wait-and-see mode with Sayonara Lara at the moment. It’s a promising original series in a sea of manga adaptations, so I’m sure to watch until the end, but I’m not truly invested after four episodes. That’s likely due to the mismatch of Lara’s straightforward mission (find her true love in order to save her family) and the decidedly less straightforward obstacles to said mission (a giant dagger floating in the clouds, Lara’s long-lost sister scheming in the background). It’s unclear whether that dagger can be perceived by non-ocean dwellers – when Lara asks her new friend Mari whether she can see it, Mari evasively responds, “How many times are you going to ask me that?” I’ve got all sorts of questions about Mari’s true identity, whether Lara’s quest for romance can actually revive her family, and whether we’re stuck in some kind of time loop (since the prince from Lara’s first life as a human said, “It feels like we’ve met somewhere before”).
Put all of that aside, though, and you’re left with a fantastic-looking anime, which makes it easy to watch along and wait for more breadcrumbs to be dropped. I love the use of late cel-era shoujo character designs, particularly for episode 4’s unlucky-in-love Hime Maibara, who looks every bit the princess her name would suggest (even if Lara eventually learns she’s just an ordinary high school). The show’s solid, non-gradated color design is appreciated, as was the boxing animation in episode 3 – in fact, that was probably my favorite episode thus far, since it shed some crucial light on how the death of Mari’s mother shaped her into the person she is now. There are a few other characters who could use similar fleshing out, though (looking at you, Lisa).
The Ninth Jedi – 1-2
When I reviewed The Ninth Jedi’s backdoor pilot episode in 2021, I called it “a plausible launching pad for a much larger story,” and now that story is here – only it doesn’t feel “much larger” than anything. Sure, its band of central characters are on a planet-hopping recruitment mission, searching for allies against a villain who threatens the galaxy, but an abundance of locations alone doesn’t make for a grand adventure. For that, you need a sense of imagination, which The Ninth Jedi lacks entirely. Its antagonist is a masked man dressed in black with a planet-destroying superweapon at his disposal, for God’s sake. All the scenes of Ethan gathering intelligence on the giga-laser at the enemy base are ripped straight from the mainline films, and the speeches that Juro gives to his former compatriots are painfully tiresome. A portion of episode 2, for example, takes place at an isolationist mining colony, whose dwarflike laborers refuse to join the resistance until protagonist Kara gets in on the preaching, nearly throwing herself off a balcony in her zeal. Of course, one assenting voice in the crowd becomes two, and then ten and twenty, until everyone is clamoring to join the losing side of a seemingly unwinnable conflict. If this trope hadn’t already been employed a dozen times in Star Wars stories (not to mention Lord of the Rings, which director Kenji Kamiyama has also been involved with), it might not be so disappointing, but it has been, so it is. Questions about the loyalties of Kara’s father, or why the Big Bad wields a blue lightsaber, aren’t nearly intriguing enough for me to sink any more hours into TNJ’s six remaining episodes.
Jaadugar: A Witch in Mongolia – 2-4
I’ve only gotten started on three TV anime from this season (with plans to catch up on several others toward the end of the year), but Jaadugar is my favorite as of now. Its historical setting, liberal use of time skips, and short-statured, dark-haired protagonist all remind me of Heike Monogatari, which checks out, since both shows have the same director. On the topic of those time skips, we’ve gone from 1221 to 1229 AD in the span of just a few episodes, and Sitara’s character design has only undergone subtle revisions, but that’s fine with me – this show’s simplicity of design is what allows it to incorporate so much detail. From clothing and jewelry to more setting-oriented elements like tent thresholds and Mongolian military banners, Jaadugar feels totally alive, despite being set 800 years ago. Each episode is a miniature historical and cultural lesson, yet the story never suffers for it due to Sitara’s intimate participation in the plot (she’s much more entwined with the show’s events than Biwa was in Heike Monogatari). After the tragedy of episode 2, when her master was killed in her place during the Mongolian invasion of Tus, she has every reason to despair, yet her hatred compels her to take an active role in shaping her future. And as of the conclusion of episode 4, with Sitara assigned to serve as her new mistress’s spy (in what I assume will be her sister-in-law’s camp), she’s set to meet the woman who will provide a channel for her anger to follow. Jaadugar has been remarkably restrained in engineering that meeting, since it’s got a decent chunk of history to retell and only 12 episodes in which to do it – perhaps a second season is in the tea leaves?
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