This is a short one, because honestly I don’t feel much like writing about Honey & Clover right now. I already did it, (warning: same pancake) and though I feel like there’s more to say, I’m not sure how to say it because H&C kind of flew by in my brain.

Why?

Because it’s the first thing I “marathoned” in a really long time. The marathon is the catnip of the anime fan, and the bane of the ones with real lives and jobs. It’s what happens when you are so sucked into a series that you’re preoccupied by its characters during work or school. You’re distant in conversation with real human beings because you don’t care what happens to them, you care what happens to HAGU DAMMIT. And you have to bear witness to the constant fight between your unstoppable desire to keep going and your sad knowledge that you’re bringing the end on sooner.

In this case, bring it on because it was worth getting to the end again (as evidenced by how many re-watches a mere mention could trigger). So the moment in this case…? It’s realizing that I was in the thick of a marathon and I wasn’t going to stop until it was over.

2009 was a big year for anime for one solid reason: Haruhi returned. Long baited, teased, and ridiculed, fans of the 2000s’ biggest series were finally rewarded for their patience. Turns out, they weren’t rewarded all that well, but at least we got the wonderfully entertaining Haruhi-chan and Nyoron Churuya-san.

Of the things that made the return noteworthy — drops in animation quality, the near-punching of the titular (anti-)heroine, or the introduction of the book series’ central time-travel themes — one stands above: Endless Eight. Is it another troll on the fans? They certainly have reason to think that way after their treatment by Vengeful God Kadokawa. Is it a failed attempt to be clever? Who knows. It’s almost avant-garde when you think about it. No one’s ever done anything like it. But in the end, I think it was brilliant. Not just the fact that it was done, but in its execution.

See, by the close of Endless Eight (which did, in fact have an end, and that’s what makes it a ripoff), viewers were micro-focused on changes in outfits, slight variations on the dialog, and Kyon’s minute advances. So when the brain-snapping end finally came, the force of your fist in the air was enough to raise you out of your seat.

Was it, in combination with the “Sighs of Haruhi Suzumiya” story, enough to gain back the goodwill lost during the most experimental anime arc of the century? Doesn’t seem that way. Maybe the movie version of Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, one of the most well-liked stories, will fix that. Hard to say. But love Endless Eight or hate it, at least it gave us this moment.

It was written in stone before the series started. It was spelled out a thousand times. It was visible in the faces of all the characters.

Ryuuji and Taiga, your One True Pairing for the year.

So why did the English-speaking anihedron not get it at the time that Toradora aired? Blame shipping culture in general if you want, but that’s facile — besides, shipping’s not going anywhere. There are two more important factors here:

1. Toradora! twisted genre cliches and tropes to create a smarter version of the anime love polygon (it was more a rhombus or maybe a pentagon than a triangle). I suppose that, given the unexpectedness with which it delivered some of its plot points, viewers were led to expect that anything was possible.
2. We’re not used to such wonderful secondary characters. Part of the problem with the polygon or harem is the underdevelopment of the less-true girls — and I don’t mean in the chest. But the overly-cheerful Minori and the overly-crusty Ami didn’t fool anyone into thinking they were the simple characters that they pretended to be. And as a result, they won more fans than the average collection of fetishes that fill out the remainder of a harem.

But in the end, Ryuuji and Taiga made good on their celestially promised destiny. And boy was it wonderful. One of my big beefs with romantically focused anime is the lack of decent payoff for the 20-some episode wait. I want to feel it. If you didn’t feel this one, hang up your hat and give up on the genre.

Except it’s fall, and anime is made by dirty old men. Case in point, Sora No Otoshimono, which is (choose one):

• One of the many high caliber titles available this season from Crunchyroll’s online stream, along with season 67 of Shugo Chara
• Standard wish-fulfillment anime crossed with a standard comedic anime
• Obsessed with panties
• Something something cancer

If you answered “uuuuuuugh,” you’re right!

I know I said I wasn’t watching anything new this season, but I thought I’d give this a shot for no really good reason. Sora No Otoshimono is, in all likelihood, a steaming pile of crap, an underpants-obsessed shounen comedy romp with the typical 9-year-old’s giggle-giggle view on sex. And it will likely turn into a harem.

But then again, perhaps it’s a deep meditation on the nature of desire, the effects of indulging your basest fantasies, and the dangerous consequences of getting what you wished for — you know, like The Monkey’s Paw with drawers.

I suppose the only way to objectively discover which of these is true is to lay out the good and bad.

Sora No Otoshimono: The Cons (also known as: the cliches and tropes used)

1. A pervert no-good Tenchi of a lead character
2. An obsession with breasts
3. A girl falling from the sky who warrants her own sub-list
   1. An alien
   2. An angel
   3. A robot
   4. who grants wishes
   5. on a leash
4. Oh-so-tsundere Karate chops from a cute childhood friend who takes good care of good-for-nothing lead (see #1)
5. Naked and/or “on top of” misunderstandings (I never would have imagined she’d walk into the room right then)
6. “[character name] no baka”
7. Wacky extras
8. “Kiddy” panties with animal mascot, worn by lead girl (This one’s for you, Akamatsu-sensei!)
9. Sweet moments of wonderful cuteness after an episode-long debacle, re-ruined by baka character just as things get lovely

The pros

Called attacks. These were all magical crotch coverups as lead character (whose name was… hmmmm it’ll come to me) tried to save the modesty of lead girl (ah, shit, her name was…), whose modesty he had of course compromised himself. I’m not going to say we’ve never seen a comedy that parodies the dirt-old concept of the called out attack, but maybe this one just hasn’t gotten quite old enough to me yet.

Flying panties. Let’s reiterate. Flying. Panties. I mean, seriously, majestically flapping their way across the landscape, migrating in formation, being observed by the masses, briefly lighting on a tree before moving on, shining in the sun. The idea is stupid, as is the whole panty-obsessed episode 2, but the execution of this one idea is colossal. Perhaps it’s even enough to justify the existence of the whole series. Doubtful.

Use of the best phrase in the world. Whether this is a subtitling coup or an actual line of dialog, it matters little.

The verdict

Obviously the balance is not in favor of Sorta Not Entirely Unwatchable, but as its name implies, it’s not entirely unwatchable. It’s certainly less awful than To Love-Ru’s anime adaptation so far, and it brought a few laughs that weren’t just boneheaded physical comedy, tit-groping, or cheap references. Not many, but a man dying in the desert doesn’t scoff at tap water.

I mentioned my viewing to ghostlightning and he seemed to think that watching, or at least starting, a truly awful show just for the sake of doing so was actually an SOS tradition. Do I? Really? Do that?

Does anyone else ever do this to themselves, or is masochism a unique character flaw? And more importantly…

I’m not going to go too much into why it’s made of awesome and win — many have seen it, plenty of blogs praise it even if they don’t agree on the methods, and most people already know lots about JC Staff’s occasionally brilliant skills of execution that can make something as rote as Hatsukoi Limited into a winner and something well written into animated gold. The true strength of Honey & Clover is not its humor, underplayed dramatic moments, or unwillingness to insultingly explain key points to you out loud; it’s the writing, plain and simple. As a fan you’ve probably spent at least a little time justifying why anime isn’t kids’ stuff, but you’re often repaid by archetyped characters bouncing around a high school and crying a lot. Honey & Clover is your true reward. Even the theme that I most wanted to talk about is a little more “mature” than what you normally see: That’s letting go, one of the series’ many central threads that runs throughout. I’m picking ONE because apparently I can write almost 2,000 words about it, so to take on the whole thing would be extreme fucking insanity.

Something atypical for me: I try to leave them out normally, but there will probably be big spoilers.

What do I mean, specifically, when I say “letting go?” Easiest way to explain is through the characters, and how their ability to “let go” is directly proportional to how much they grow as people.

Rika and Shuu. Rika’s pretty easy: she is still hanging on to her dead husband. In a way, Shuu-chan is hanging on to him as well. They both lived a depressed life, feeling half complete without their counterpart and unable to even be around each other. Rika fully planned to off herself after completing their last joint project, which seems counterintuitive to me (seems that finishing that would be the last thing she needs to move on, but she’s taking “move on” in a very different way). She’s the only person who’s somewhat unclear at the end of the story: did Mayama really open her eyes to the kind of love that can free her? Not sure. But she did get the benefit of a very shock-treatment method of therapy when they visited her childhood home. Shuu of course, freed himself by admitting his feelings about Hagu, — he’d already been dedicating himself to her, but to truly live for her was his way of finally facing the future.

Kaoru. He’s the next simplest to explain. Though his father specifically told him not to pursue a grudge, he dedicated his life to just that. Was it about redeeming his father, reclaiming the company, or revenge on the villain? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t even sure anymore, and besides, everything he did from a very early age was colored by his envy of Shinobu. He couldn’t stop his hanging on to the past until the deed was done, and then he was left without a purpose for quite a while. Clinging to something, especially a grudge, for so long causes you to really lose sight of everything and get serious tunnel vision.

Yamada. Speaking of which. Boys from her childhood, good looking suitors with successful careers, even a better job — they all existed outside her narrow field of vision that encompassed only Mayama. What was it that finally broke the spell? More than likely being around Rika and throwing herself into her work had the largest effect on her, but of course cool guy Nomiya’s clumsy and vulnerable persistence finally opened the door. She might be the most cartoony of the characters, like a shoujo heroine (Kotoko from Itazura Na Kiss, anyone?) who just can’t stop. But when she became free, it happened in a realistic enough way: not a snapping realization, but a gradual stepping into the light.

Mayama. Here’s the flipside of that equation. What is there to talk about? Mayama’s hangup is obvious. It’s Rika. Wrong. At least, not all the way right. Yes, he had a serious problem with his one-way feelings for Rika, but that (sort of) paid off in the end. The moment when his folly ended was when he loosened his iron grip on Yamada, the poor, beautiful bench warmer. Even he wasn’t 100% sure whether he was keeping an overly big-brother hold on her or if he really was keeping her on the back burner, but neither one was healthy. He found it very easy to blame her until Nomiya went on the offensive and he stopped bemoaning his own situation long enough to realize how badly he was fucking her up by maintaining his hold.

Shinobu. The younger Morita seems to have had the opposite problem of everyone here; instead of clinging to something that’s holding him back, his unwillingness to cling to anything is what stopped him for so long. His feelings went unexpressed, responsibility was an ignored nuisance, and he even tried to bring Hagu on that train of irresponsible apathy with him. In that way he’s actually like Takemoto gone unchecked, but more on that in a second.

Hagu. For most of her life, until college, drawing was her only escape. And when she was told that she was better at art than most people, she reacted in a way that infuriated her “fans.” But Hagu’s desire to move back to the country and spend her adult life painting the forest and the mountains shouldn’t be confused with a clear-headed decision or an adult way of thinking. She just hung on to that life from before, and the more time she spent in Tokyo the more she seemed to  block out her own opinions and keep her focus on that goal that she might not even want. Combine that with being unwilling to trouble her beloved Shuu-chan, and by the time of her injury she wasn’t even sure what she wanted and what she was doing for others anymore. Morita put a stop to that with his selfish but caring request that she just stop her art and be with him. Paradoxically, she was able to feel her love of drawing again just by being told that she didn’t have to do it. And that same paradox freed her.

Takemoto. Poor Takemoto. It’s easy to think of him as Anthony Michael Hall in The Breakfast Club (RIP John Hughes), the nerd who went through the same (actually, more effective) journey of self-discovery as the rest of the crew but who didn’t get the girl and ended up writing everyone’s report for them.

Takemoto was cursed by his own self-awareness. Every year since Mayama’s graduation was progressively more sad, and it became harder and harder to hold on to his memories of carefree days filled with the love of friends and dominated by the image of Hagu. For Takemoto, even the very literal journey of self-discovery brought him only to realize the value of the things and people he wanted to come back to. I thought sure he’d wind up replacing Shuu as a teacher, his attachment to the school and reluctance to commit to the future were so great.

At the end of the first series, it was in debate whether the naïve and crying Hagu was confused about her feelings or just plain couldn’t return his; by the middle of the second series the truth was heart-wrenchingly obvious. And that, long past the point of unequivocal defeat, was really hard for Takemoto to stop clinging to. It partially served as a reminder of how much different this is from most anime: as with Yamada, just working hard to win over your unrequited love won’t necessarily change anything. It just makes you lonelier and less tied to reality. But more importantly, this is about how the things that were holding Takemoto back were tied together. When he finally cut the ties to both his college life and his unrequited love, he could rest. Hagu let him do that with her trip to the train station and her goofy bittersweet sandwiches. And when Takemoto was finally able to cry and let it go, we the viewers finally got the chance to be free as well, left with our own bittersweet taste.

Close to home (do you remember love, and how it ruins everything?)

Putting aside the flowery talk that always sounds better in your head than in print, how does this contribute to me, my viewing, and the fearsome oyaji hate machine that is Honey & Clover? Simple, on one level. It makes for a story that someone like me (a bit older, out of school for quite some time) can not only identify with, but be hurt by in a way that more juvenilely focused plots (no offense) just can’t deliver. While that KeyAni gut punch is swell at first, it fades quickly. For the feeling to really sink in and last through time and repeated viewings, it has to resonate. There must be identifiable pain in your own life behind it.

I suppose that’s why Takemoto’s character creates a dull ache in my heart. He’s the reliable but not-too-sexy dude who doesn’t get the girl and can’t quite be okay with growing up. Eventually I did get the girl, but Honey & Clover showed me that I still haven’t quite shaken the Takemoto-like desire for things to just “stop spinning” for a while. That’s painful, as it refers to mortality, which is an even more agonizing subject than unrequited love — you cannot go back, no matter how much you want to. But even that realization is a beautiful thing.

And it means that for all those marvelous characters, great humor, and tasty music, the thing that really sets Honey & Clover apart is that it has the power to hurt, help, and look inside its viewers. You don’t see that too often. It also apparently has the power to end all the usual irreverence in my blog posts, so I apologize for that. Back to dick jokes and Macross references next time.

But that resonance was important for me to get across, and I know plenty of folks love the series for different reasons so I ask this: did Honey & Clover hit you very hard personally, compared to other anime? Was there a character that you identified with particularly, as I did with Takemoto? And might H&C help you move on from something?

Shin Mazinger Z

A couple seasons ago, Madhouse breathed new life into an old franchise as well with Casshern Sins. That one was done in a very western-comic-book fashion though: He’s back, and this time he’s dark! Go Nagai’s Shin Mazinger, however, directly channels the spirit of the original and consequently transports you back to childhood — to a time when a Rocket Punch was a supremely cool thing. Hot-blooded pilot Kouji’s angst is a little overplayed in the past couple episodes, but retro robots maintain. The brick-shitting may be over, but the adrenaline rush that brought it on is still in effect.

Haruhi

What hasn’t been said? Despite my last post, this is at least partially true: For most people who enjoyed the first show, it’s requisite viewing. For the rest, it’s not.

Eden of the East

I’ve fallen really far behind on this one. It remains strong in my head, and it’s the kind of show that when I do get back to it (probably this week) I won’t be able to stop until I’m caught up. Sci-fi, mystery, a hint of romance — it’s the kind of thing that doesn’t come along every season.

FMA:Brotherhood

Funimation has not made it easy to watch (their streaming site is sorely unable to handle the traffic that FMA brought), but I’m officially caught up. The waifu and I both agree that the hyper-ramped-up pace is a lot of fun to watch. The sense of scope in the Elric Brothers’ quest is lost almost completely, but that sacrifice is made in the name of pure watchability. I might not have a lot of company in this, but I’m a fan.

Hatsukoi Limited

Talk about your dark horses. A JC-Staff-animated romance series just after the very good Toradora seemed too soon, but this one has delivered. You might even say it’s got a little something for everyone. Kei’s internal monologues give fascinating insight into the mind of the tsundere, Misaki provides cool and spicy, and the whole thing is just exploding with cute, engaging romantic story threads. And panties. Which helps.

Unlike the best shows of its genre, Hatsukoi doesn’t look like it’ll transcend the anime medium, but the series is doing a fantastic job within it. What I’m most thankful for is consistent payoffs. I think 12-26 episodes without a hand-hold or a kiss is a lazy trick employed by anime writers to keep people watching their poorly-conceived romantic series in anticipation of something happening; Hatsukoi keeps rewarding its characters and viewers with romantic payoff while still stringing us along brilliantly.

Noein

This isn’t current, but I recently started it, in dub, from the iTunes store. Sadly, I’m not very pumped about it. The animation is an example of Satelight’s worst offenses: a beautifully crisp, modern, computer-aided look marred by horrible anatomy and a near-perfect lack of character consistency. These are really distracting to me, but if the story picks up soon I’ll be happy to ignore them. One thing I probably won’t be able to, though: American dubs’ tendency to pronounce character names with second syllable accents, e.g., hah-ROO-ka.

Anything I’m missing? I fell off the Saki and Shangri-La wagons a while back, might try the latter again though. And I never did pick up Sengoku Basara, but I hear it’s pretty manly.

Allow me to work my way towards my point step-by-step:

What is a parody?

There are a lot of anime adaptations of light novel series. Like manga, they seem tailor-made for it narrative-wise. Unlike manga, they leave a lot more room for interpretation. A great adaptation, whether it’s TV, theater, animation, or cinema, is like a great cover song in the musical world: It stays true to the intent or spirit of the original, but it adds something that makes the adaptation viable as an original work.

Tatsuya Ishihara and Kyoto Animation added plenty of well-realized visuals and clever directing, but more than that, the anime crew gave us the idea of Haruhi Suzumiya as a smart, tongue-in-cheek meta-anime — a commentary on the medium and a very sly parody of some of its tropes. The last time I can remember something similar so masterfully executed was the king of the meta-anime-parody Martian Successor Nadesico. And the parallels are there, to be sure: like her counterpart and equivalent Ruri, Yuki Nagato became more than just a thinly-disguised spoof of anime’s light-blue-haired monotone heroines.

Since I came at Haruhi from the anime angle first, and Tanigawa’s books later, the crafty little parody aspects of the show hit me harder than some of the story or character elements. Think of episode zero for a minute. How often do you groan and hear Kyon’s voiceover in your head when you see an anime pan up to the sky?

What is moe?

ANN defines moe as:

A Japanese term used in connection with manga or anime to describe something precious, usually (but not always) the ideal of youthful and innocent femininity. Written with the kanji for “to bud or sprout” (萌), the concept covers a range of ideal behaviour for youthful female characters in manga or anime. To be moe, a character can be eager or perky, not overly independent, and call forth a desire in the viewer to protect them and nurture them.

I would have also accepted “the cancer that’s killing anime.”

The issue of moe-ness is in itself contentious enough, since people seem to get their moe on for everything from lolis to Valkyries, but far worse is the accusation of “moe pandering.”

That term is generally used by mouth-breathers who learned the definition of “pandering” yesterday to try to invalidate the target at which it’s aimed, e.g.:

“There’s really no merit in [K-ON/Saki/Ranka/Kanon/Strike Witches/Mazinger Z], because it’s moe pandering.”

There’s no doubt that moe sells DVDs (and oppai mousepads and castoff figures and doujins and maid cafes and…), so the Uguu Menace finds its way into even the most unlikely anime these days. But the anihedron has become a dangerously thoughtless place because we see a couple characteristics of female characters and instantly accuse a show of “moe pandering.”

It can be a really harmful charge to level at an otherwise competently put together series, but more importantly it’s a reactionary judgment that arrives at the expense of real critical thinking. And while you’re having your knee-jerk, something else might be going on.

In Haruhi’s case, that something else is a walking piss-take on moe. Its name is Mikuru Asahina.

What is Mikuru?

It wasn’t always obvious what Mikuru was. I suppose I first noticed when, I dunno, I was told fairly blatantly. Haruhi’s original molestation of Mikuru included an announcement of just how moe she was, and while I guess some people see the interaction as “pandering” (an accusation that continued to get lobbed at Lucky Star’s self-referential humor), it sounded to me like the fourth wall breaking down. They even put her in a maid costume for no fucking reason. Come on.

To me, the more blobby and cowering she gets, the funnier it is. To me, the creators’ smirks are as obvious as Koizumi’s. To me, it’s a great way to make your detractors look more idiotic, even as  — here’s the rub — on one level, they might be right. For the parody to work really well, it has to be effective on its own level, and to a certain viewer class I suppose it is. But Mikuru’s a long way removed from Makoto, Misuzu, or the perpetually sickly Nagisa.

I suppose there’s always ghostlightning’s old argument that intent is irrelevant because the only thing that matters to a final product is whatever inference the viewer/reader puts into a work. That angle would say that it’s a parody because I see it that way, while it’s pandering because someone else sees it that way.

As he knows, I don’t really buy that to any large extent — in fact, I’m willing to just say that you’re wrong and you’ve missed the point entirely. It seems as clear as the furrows on Kyon’s brow. It’s like listening to Weird Al’s “Eat It” in the 80s and saying to yourself, “I don’t get why that guy is trying so hard to cash in on Michael Jackson’s stardom by covering one of his songs.”

But. My primary point renders the argument of “Am I right about parody?” irrelevant.

What is my point?

I think when Owen S. calls people “memeparrots,” he’s referring to certain parties on either side. That means easy bandwagoning or mindless echoing of popular bloggers’ forced memes. It also means tossing unsupported accusations like “moe pandering” out there. As I like to say, absolutes are always wrong.

While Haruhi is quite clever, it can do wrong. Lone Island Syndrome? Kinda lame, and I hope they don’t animate its ski-trip counterpart. On the flipside, pandering does exist, but I doubt it’s the basis of everything Kyoto Animation does. I’ll give haters this: Fumoffu?! seriously pandered to my machine gun teddy-bear moe.

Dig? All coins have two sides, including Haruhi, who is at turns both God and the Devil.

This isn’t just about Mikuru, and it isn’t just about “Bamboo Leaf Rhapsody,” or Haruhi Suzumiya. It’s about seeing things as a little more than their topmost dimension. It’s also about thinking, viewing, judging and most of all enjoying or disliking for yourself rather than sheeping your way to one side or another of an internet argument.

You see, she’s the source of the interesting things that are happening. Long the “girl next door” in every sense of the word to poor personality-deprived Zaitsu, now this stone-cold fox with supposedly no desire for dudes has another lame-ass suitor, Koyoi’s beloved onii-chan. Now, let’s not get too hung up on the whole brocon/siscon thing and how it, like boobless girls, is on the surface made to be the freaky but undesirable fetish but of course its very presence in modern anime constitutes a ringing endorsement and custom fetish delivery to stinky otaku. I digress like fuck.

The elder Besshou is no more interesting than the younger Zaitsu, and has just as little concept of where his league is and when he’s out of it. To top it off for this poor sap, Misaki’s ditched her sexual disinterest in favor of his tactless, uncaring, lollipop-wielding best friend (who happens to be Kei’s older brother). And, tell me you ronery fuckers that you’ve never been here — she calls him to the restaurant to find out what she should do about her crush on crass-a-nova. FFFFFFFFFFF.

All of this matters because it’s the harbinger of the change of tone that every romantically focused anime must make before it becomes part of its genre. In love, everything isn’t breasts and roses, and tragedy is the name of the game. Here, we have both Besshou and Zaitsu, hopelessly hung up on the mesmerizing Misaki, and we’re already treated to the earliest tragic truth of the series: One of them — perhaps neither of them — will have her. Bummer.

Because let’s face it kids, Misaki’s pretty bangin. And she’d have to be. In an anime where the 14-year-olds cause lelangir confusing feelings (and cause pan-ups to be pasted together into pinups, apparently), the 16 or 17-year-old (maximum age in anime, deshou?) can’t just be bomb, she’s gotta be nuclear.

I’m starting to wonder now, how much Misaki will be a character, how much we’ll see into her head (like the unprecedented tsundere-POV of Kei) or whether she’ll just continue to be an object of desire, a veritable walking nosebleed for the male characters of the show. Regardless, this is animation, so I think we can all rest assured she’ll stay sexful. How her courtship fares, well that might not be as positive but a rosy outlook for love doesn’t make for good TV so let’s see what kind of damage she can do.

Yep.

Anyway, seeing as how we’re not getting another Futakoi Alternative, I grabbed a couple episodes of Hatsukoi (”First Love”) Limited. I guess I kinda thought it was a shoujo, but the sort of pervy vibe that permeates the whole thing tells me otherwise. Now, I’ve never read the manga, and I suppose the writer, along with JC Staff’s director, might be going the Girls’ High route — i.e., kids are pretty fucked up balls of hormones so let’s reflect on their lives with low-ass camera angles and tight pink shorts. Fortunately, the first two episodes were far more entertaining than Girls’ High’s entire retarded run. Granted, that’s not saying much, but still.

Not what you think.

That said, what you have is a cute story of interconnecting first loves — so far, middle schooler Ayumi has a crush on charming Mamoru, who carried her fireman-style to the nurse after she fainted from the fear of being courted/stalked by Mamoru’s own high school-age beast of a brother Misao. Further exascerbating the convolution is Mamoru’s own crush: he and Misao’s childhood friend Misaki, who’s two years older, sees him as a little brother, and isn’t interested in gettng mixed up with boys right now. But wears tight pink shorts and crawls through his window. Good God, poor kid.

why, exactly?

Misao is a funny character (if not that original), a giant stubbly Ikki Tousen extra who can pound any kid in Japan but folds his laundry neatly, feeds the birds, and has an inescapable crush on a middle schooler. Yeah, it’s a tiny touch creepy but is painted as just pathetic enough to work. And when he nobly comes to her rescue, well, it’s a little touching.

touching.

Ayumi-chan is a little heap of moe who’s not so defenseless as to be annoying or even too typical, but her shimapan (which are usually symbolic of immaturity) give away her underlying personality. Misaki is the typical mature-girl archetype who of course will find out she’s not as adult as she thought, etc. I’m not sure how much any of the rest of the large cast will fit into this; are their stories going to be involved in the web of panties and love as well?

and I'll love her and hug her and squeeze her and call her George

At any rate, this was a bit dumb but a decent watch. I was sufficiently entertained by the light humor, cute story of poor Misao, and of course the tight pink shorts. The age of some characters is a little scandalous for my taste, but the show has some real production values so the pantyshots seem a little less gratuitous than if they were just thrown into a cheap-ass show to keep people watching (Gonzo, I love you still, but I’m looking right at you). Also, the thugs’ argument about taking a poop was gold. I’ll keep watching for now.

Basquash!

Pre-airing thoughts: I don’t like sports. Never have. To me the fact that I was always a scrawny dork who was never any good at them was the reason I ended up an anime fan to begin with. Eyeshield, Slam Dunk, Hajime No Ippo, none of these ever really held any interest for me (although I know Riex and Choujin shake their heads when I say that about Ippo). But Basquash! has something they don’t: Shoji Kawamori. Does that mean the basketball players all sing? Probably not, but they do ride mecha, so we’re halfway to something.

duckies

First episode thoughts: Wow. Kawamori or no, this was cool. Mr. Macross’s studio of choice for the past couple installments, Satelight, may have even upped the ante from their impressive start of Macross Frontier. The look actually reminds me of Manglobe’s sweaty, sunny setting of Michiko & Hatchin, but of course with a stylishly futuristic wardrobe department. Dan seems to be a decent Black Star-esque protagonist with a good seiyuu and a “[insert thing] Mask” alter ego. Then of course, there’s lots of really well done CG of the “bigfoot” mecha whose cockpits are all 50s hot-rod-looking cars. I guess that’s the rock and roll angle of Kawamori’s designs. All in all, a fun ride of an opening with lots of great action and sufficient boobs to hold visual interest. Everything moved so fast, it was actually hard to get a screencap.

Careful! Lest these things Gainax all over the cockpit

What will go wrong: Kawamori isn’t the story or script writer, although the whole idea and design is his. So he can’t blow the ending by forgetting to think one up until he’s writing the last episode. Satelight can, however, do what they must have done with Frontier. That is, they could animate the 5 most important episodes first and fill in the rest with whatever tiny amount of cash they haven’t blown. For every hyper-impressive visual tour de force like this one, let’s hope there aren’t three all-out shitfests to follow.

Eden of the East

Pre-airing thoughts: I can’t say as I had any. I didn’t know anything about this series other than it’d be animated by Production IG, and would have music by Kenji Kawai and… Oasis.

First episode thoughts: From the looks of it, Eden of the East is going to shape up to be a bit of a shoujo romance with a twist of intrigue, much like last year’s Library War. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that that series lacked in both Libraries and War, but the romantic aspect was really not too badly done. So far, my ability to believe everything in episode 1 was strongly tested, but I am always ready to put that aside in the name of setup as long as it doesn’t go too far. After all, the premise of armed librarians was pretty fucking hard to swallow too, but it turned out that didn’t matter.

George Washington's Phallus looms ominously over our Japanese protagonist. Coincidence? Or symbolism?

In the end, it barely mattered what I didn’t believe because the execution was staggering. Facial expressions and body language effortlessly pulled off without all that Lucky Star/A-1 pictures simplification of design. CG integrated near-seamlessly into the slick cel work, and the traced photo backgrounds didn’t put me off at all (except for the fact that I have to go to Dulles airport next week). The Oasis OP was marvelous — even though I’m not a fan, the slick Western rock added a level of polish that really helped the full experience — and the cut-paper stop-motion ending sequence even better. OH! Also, they hired English-speaking voice actors to do the American parts. Nice touch.

What will go wrong: There won’t be enough Eden, or East. Saki, who looks a little like Itazura Na Kiss’s Kotoko, will turn out to be just as pathetic. And strangers will give up their hard-earned pants without question when I flash my balls at them.

Saki

Pre-airing thoughts: There is a series on Crunchyroll. I pay for Crunchyroll. Maybe I should watch it.

This is right, isn't it?

First episode thoughts: Gonzo? Well, they can make it work when it counts, but they seem stretched pretty thin this season. Possible Yuri? OK, I’m listening. Loudmouthed fanged loli eating tacos? I dunno, I’m losing interest. Mah Jong? Whoops. Gone.

Screencap not available. Artist's rendition of Saki.

Also, already watching one show with a lead character named Saki.

What will go wrong: I will actually watch this. That would be a problem. I have better things to do. Like go to the taco truck down the street. It kind of pains me to think of what a taco would taste like in Japan, which is why no matter how large a weaboo I become in some parallel world, I will still never go there for any extended period of time.