Kiznaiver ends as mysteriously as it began, leaving me with a bittersweet aftertaste – I have yet to answer the question I began with, which is whether I enjoy this show. I feel like I have eaten an entire cake, and am still unsure if I even liked it. One would hope so, since I ate the cake and licked the plate clean, but it’s hard to say. What I have figured out is that there are really two stories being told here. There is the story told though the superb animation and sound, and then the story told through dialogue. One of these stories is far stronger.

The lesson I learned from Kiznaiver is that the story in an anime is actually several complementary stories, intertwined. This may seem like common sense, but rarely is it as evident as it is here. The dialogue itself was sort of trite, which may be an issue of translation, but I am simply not impressed by lines like “are you dissing me now?” or anything that has to do with the power of friendship. I was instead impressed by the small visual touches throughout, like the scene where Sonozaki gives her dramatic monologue to an old man on a bench, or where a bunch of mascots have a nonsensical turf war. And then there are the great colors, such as the contrasting reds and blues that make this episode so stunning throughout.

I feel as if the episode would work better without the dialogue, with the characters just spouting gibberish instead. The few really good lines would be clear, but otherwise it would just be soft, garbled nonsense. I’m convinced that version would still be very easy to follow. We would know that these characters are close, that one is aloof and isolated, and that ultimately her cold heart starts to thaw. And it would still be clear who likes who, as the emotive animation really lets the characters personalities and motivations shine through.

Or instead, imagine the show with shitty or even passable animation. Imagine the lack of small touches and vivid coloring. Would there be the same emotional impact? What makes Kiznaiver such a triumph is that some remarkable animation made an otherwise middling story very strong. What this rise in quality helps show is that not every “I love you” is equal – it is a about delivery and atmosphere surrounding the line. The “I love you” in this episode works because of the surrounding presentation.

My main problem was that the dialogue was very pretentious and melodramatic, and yet the writing seemed to validate that kind of thinking. Talking about the power of friendship should not be a real revelation. What is also frustrating is that there are some good moments of writing, like when our characters acknowledge that friendship is, in fact, not “omnipotent.” But the real story that stole the show for me was the one of visuals, which dripped personality and perhaps conveyed more information than the dialogue itself.

Little mannerisms, like the way Nori Chan holds the back of her neck, really help to define the characters, while the use of colors helps to create the necessary mood. Ultimately, a middling story was elevated to something really effective. Against the striking blues and reds, Sonozaki tries to create a passionate world, only to wind up with a much less satisfying one. The show ends not with an explosion of emotion, but with a little smile, as Nori and her newly christened boyfriend heal their bodies and hearts.  This ensemble show, about a cast of seven characters, is ultimately hijacked by an eighth. This is a fitting and interesting way to end things, for a character who tried to live vicariously through others, but ultimately settles for being herself – whatever that will be.

Episode Twelve Score: 8.0

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Too many anime fall under the genre of high school mellow drama, which is really too bad. I’d rather not watch young people taking their lives too seriously, when they’re far from their most interesting years (one would hope). I recently talked to someone at the end of his high school days, looking back bitterly at the unrequited love and meanness that came with young adulthood. And he remembers what his parents told him at the start of high school – “high school will be the best days of your life. “Well I fucking hope not,” he told me.  I never thought for a second that those teen years would be my glory days, but no nerd ever does. If you reach your “final form” by the age of seventeen, then what do you have to look forward to?

And therein lies my issue with young adult melodrama – petty romances and feuds are given the spotlight, in a world where seventeen is the finish line. But what saves Kiznaiver from being like other melodramas is the pure weirdness. The experience of watching Kiznaiver is hard to describe, but it speaks to one of the greatest strengths of anime. It can tell an interesting and authentic story about being young. The show does not glorify youth, but it also manages to sympathize with the issues of young adults. By the end of this episode of Kiznaiver, I’m rooting for our heroes, but I also recognize how petty they are. Everything was a house of cards from the beginning.

The most powerful moment is at the climax, when everyone’s inner voice is audible. We can hear “hold me,” over and over, along with a static crackle. But as soon as this wish is granted, we hear new words – “you’re so cruel.” The issue is that no one can be satisfied, because no one can act rationally. Kiznaiver is a very typical melodrama, with plenty of shoddy writing and sappy emotions, but infused with the zany personality of studio Trigger. The show features the strange combination of a writer who tends to take things too seriously, and a director who takes almost nothing seriously. And this paradox feels perfect for a story about young adulthood.

Kizaiver reaches a balance between taking its characters seriously, and not at all. And as someone with a brother in high school, I understand the importance of separating angst from real issues all too well. High schoolers are needlessly complicated. Kiznaiver embodies that complexity, but in strange ways. The show is almost off – I can’t explain it fully, but there’s something bizarre about the whole experience. The plot moves slowly, and the conversations and tone are all over the place. The show manages to feel well-crafted and sloppy at the same time. But I see Kiznaiver being a classic one day, simply by virtue of being so distinct.

Just looking at this episode, there are moments of over the top presentation, as a young Sonozaki again descends into an abyss, as Kacchon holds her present self and cries. There are also less effective moments of emotional striving, like when Kacchon remarks that the rain will end, a bad metaphor for good times to come. And then the animators add some truly demented scenes, as those amorphous mascots chase our heroes around the school. Though not intentional, it almost feels like Kiznaiver is written by a teenager. Usually that is a bad sign. But here the pretentious writing works, next to the goofy work of the animators, and the general strangeness of the show.

Episode Nine score: 8.6

A lot of successful shows can be put into one of two camps – a story about interesting nothing, or about straightforward excitement. This season’s Kabaneri is an exemplary example of the latter. And we finally have a representative of the former, as Kiznaiver starts to hit its stride. The show is about the small things, as little details accumulate from the first three episodes and turn into fodder for conversations.

For instance, there was an interesting verbal joust between Yuta and Maki, which came dangerously close to falling apart. The part I’m referring to, of course, is when Yuta mentions Maki’s breasts. But as low as my tolerance for “boob humor” is, here it sort of works, since it’s not humor. We’ve had a handful of boob jokes before, so this seems to be just another one of those – and yet it’s a rather vicious line. The underlying message is an attack, followed by a retaliatory fat joke. I am also not a fan of fat jokes, but this one is less about the body shaming, and more about the underlying implications.

In short, the show has actual subtly, as the characters play off each other and probe for emotional weaknesses. For example, it feels as if Yuta’s attacks on Maki could be some sort of revenge for Niko (who Maki was needlessly mean to). And yet, in trying to prove just how awful Maki is, Yuta reveals himself to be the worst of the bunch. And Niko shows that she can handle things herself, resolving her issues with Maki through sheer positivity.

And we get to see some more of Sonozaki, who has a few interesting moments. It may seem like a small thing, but I was particularly impressed by her exchange with Agata, when he offers to carry her luggage. She says yes, and I was surprised. And Yuta is surprised too, even though Sonozaki points out that she’s not the type to pass up an act of kindness. This scene caught me off guard, not because Kizaniver breaks the rules it has established, but because it uses them in an unexpected fashion.

Kiznaiver reminds me more and more of the Monogatari series, which is one continuous conversation that becomes increasingly more complex (and interesting). There will be inside jokes and references that can go completely unnoticed, and frankly, they don’t need to be. Simply having the details there gives the show a feeling of fullness. Much in the same way, there’s some great lines in Kiznaiver that get relegated to the background, my favorite being “Humans really are amazing. After eating all that fried rice, I’m already hungry again.” It’s a silly line that doesn’t add anything, but it just kind of works.

To enjoy Kiznaiver, you have to be interested in the characters and what they’re saying.  If the characters bother you, or if watching them talk for episodes on end is not for you, that’s fair. The characters themselves are a bit dull to be honest. But what makes Kiznaiver work is that it manages to turn clichéd characters interesting, throwing them together and exploring their different dynamics. The show is strange, it’s loud, and it’s slow. But it’s also shaping up to be a success, and I’m eager to see how it plays out. I don’t think I’ll know what to make of Kiznaiver until it’s over, and I can look back on everything in context. But in the meantime I’ll just enjoy myself.

Episode Four Score 8.0

 

Reviewing Kiznaiver’s first episode wasn’t easy.  It made me feel like a food critic who hasn’t even tasted the food. The chef has come out and told me about all of the locally grown ingredients, and I’m allowed to smell the food and admire its presentation, but I still haven’t eaten any. Much in the same way, this episode felt like an exposition dump, designed to wet my appetite but not to really give me any answers. At least it made me hungry for more.

If I could compare this show to any other, it would be Revolutionary Girl Utena, based on what I’ve seen so far. Utena was also a slow starter for me. It only really picked up once it explored its ensemble cast, and started to flesh out its otherwise clichéd characters. For those not in the know, Utena was a surrealist coming of age story, which all took place inside a high school, run by an evil student council. If that sounds familiar, you might have seen Kill la Kill – the show that probably attracted you to Kiznaiver in the first place. I believe Trigger took a lot of inspiration from Utena in making Kill la Kill – many of the characters , especially the student council, are similar in design and personality to those from Utena. And I am sensing some similarities in Kiznaiver as well.

What was interesting about Utena, and one significant way it is different from Kill la Kill, is that it relies heavily on its side characters. Although flat at first, and otherwise cartoonish, everyone in Utena turns out be surprisingly human. And I feel that Kiznaiver is angling for something similar. One possible indication is found in the ending theme song, when our ‘high and mighty,’ character (the glasses girl) can be seen resting against the back of another girl, who has short purple hair. I don’t want to go too far into the territory of spoilers or speculation, but the tone and character designs are eerily reminiscent of a certain lesbian relationship in Utena.  Is this character actually a lesbian? Who knows, maybe. Whatever the case, there is more to these characters than meets the eye.

And in this regard, I predict Kiznaiver will be markedly different than its predecessor, Kill la Kill. The appeal of Kill la Kill is that the characters embrace their one-dimensional natures, and are always predicable.  While this is usually a sign of bad writing, Kill la Kill’s mixture of self-awareness and enthusiasm made these flat characters seem somehow dynamic, and that may have been the show’s single greatest achievement. Kiznaiver has chosen to go the more traditional route, and rather than blowing its stereotypes out of proportion, looks to pick them apart. The real question is whether or not Trigger is equipped to tell this kind of story.

As for the episode itself, I am at a loss. The animation was sleek and stylistic, even if the dialogue could be rather heavy handed. And the scene where our protagonist is pushed down a staircase in slow motion, and then escorted through a disco light hospital, is far and away the most memorable scene of this anime season (so far). On good faith, I’ll say it’s a solid episode, but that all really depends on what’s to come.

Episode score: 6.7

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