Tokyo Ghoul Re Episode 6 Review

After several weeks of mediocrity and some very questionable direction, Tokyo Ghoul delivers a functional episode. A masterwork it is not. But this is the first episode of Re that truly succeeds as a piece of entertainment. But rather than talk about this episode, I want to briefly address last week’s. It felt like a focal point of the season – it was actionpacked, featured some slightly smoother animation, and even brought back the original opening that has become so iconic. But somehow it ranked as the seasons most boring episode yet. After talking about how well Hero Academia handled action with its last episode, I thought I’d discuss what bad action looks like.
The first fight of episode six features a ghoul named Nutcracker. As a general disclaimer, I acknowledge that these fights are pretty poorly animated and choreographed, but I’m not going to focus on that. A fight can be low budget and skill keep the audience engaged. What I want to emphasize is the stakes as well as the internal logic of the fights. In the case of Nutcracker, she can detach parts of her body and turn them into traps, which is actually a pretty cool power. But here’s the issue – we find this out when Shiraju jumps up in the air for an attack and triggers a trap in the ceiling. Now, how often do you see a character jump up for an attack? Being the obsessive nerd that I am, I checked through episodes of Tokyo ghoul, and let me tell you; it’s happens sometimes, but never to the point where characters are practically touching the ceiling. So clearly Shiraju only jumped so high so he could trigger this trap and some exposition about Nutcracker’s powers.
And the explanation Shirazu gets makes no sense. He is told that Nutcracker can set traps, and that he should stay away from the walls and ceiling. But if that is her power, then why wouldn’t she set traps in the floor? Isn’t that where people tend to be walk? It would be like putting land mines in trees instead of the ground, in case someone decides to go for a climb in the middle of combat. Is there a reason there aren’t any floor traps? Is there some convincing reason why Nutcracker couldn’t also lay traps there? And while we’re on the issue of traps, how many ceiling traps are there? Shirazu managed to reach the peak of his jump right where a trap is. Either he’s really unlucky, or we should assume there are a lot of traps in the ceiling. We saw someone else get hit with a ceiling trap last episode, so this seems like a logical assumption.
But if that’s the case, why not put traps everywhere? Or is there a limit to how many traps Nut Cracker can place? If that’s the case, then why put so many of your traps on the ceiling, where the enemy are unlikely to be? I guess it’s a good thing that in this specific fight, all of the characters suddenly decide to hang out on the ceiling. And I’d like to also point out that there are other fights going on right now, also in enclosed spaces, and no one is hanging out near the ceiling. I guess that’s because they have no plot conveniences to trigger.
The second half of the episode is dominated by Hasei’s fight with Owl, which has just as many logical errors. The first problem is that it’s one of those fights where projectiles are being shot everywhere, but stepping slightly to the left or right counts as dodging. And fine, I’m willing to accept that doing somersaults somehow lets you dodge projectile weapons. But there’s a moment where Hasie jumps right into a hail of spikes, and none of them hit him. His opponent is literally firing directly at him, and Hasie is jumping right into the incoming fire, yet none of them land. Or there’s a moment where Hasie is seemingly defeated, yet his opponent just stands over him while he completes his internal monologue.
Meanwhile, there’s never any indication that an attack is dealing damage. Characters are knocked back, but they don’t become more sluggish as the fight goes on. They don’t seem any more tired. They look like shit, but that’s the extent of it. Also, what’s our indication that a character is more powerful than another? We only get the sense a character is strong because we are told so, but nothing in the way their attacks and movement are presented reinforces that fact. And the damage never feels real because the peril is never genuine. There are many moments throughout where characters are clearly defeated, but the enemy simply stands there and says nothing for over a minute. Then they finally intervene, just for more good guys to show up and block their attack. This setup happens twice in this in episode alone.
And I understand – these are problems inherent in many action anime. But at least in those others, the powers stand out and the damage feels real. In My Hero, Deku breaking an arm feels like a real injury. And everyone fights in their own distinct way. But in Tokyo Ghoul, all attacks boil down to punching and swinging your tail around. Even mass produced anime had more distinctive attacks and sounder logic than this. Think of Bleach – hardly a perfect show, but it’s fights were far more unique than this. For instance, there was one fight where a character could control objects by looking at them. He took over the limbs of his opponent, so his opponent severed the tendons in his own arms and legs. At this point, that characters can’t use those body parts. The fight has a real sense of forward momentum. Injuries matter. Also, the fight feels special. This is a unique ability that requires a unique approach (such as self mutilation). Tokyo Ghoul has yet to offer a single fight as imaginative and distinct as this. And while I hope to focus on the positive next week, I wanted to take the time to go over the fights in this episode, since this is an element of the show has been bothering me constantly. Hopefully next week I’ll get to focus on some of the things this season has done right, just to shake things up.
Until next time.

My Hero Academia Season 3 episode 5 review

hero 2I’ve always been confused by the explosive popularity of My Hero – it always felt like a fairly standard action Shounen with one note characters and devoting or plots. Beat for beat, the first season feels eerily reminiscent of old school Naruto. The second season was a definite improvement, but by then my patience was in short supply and I didn’t make it past the halfway point. I went back and watched some of the major plot moments in anticipation for season 3, but I was still not feeling it. Thankfully, season 3 offers us a genuinely great action set piece, similar in style to Hunter X Hunter (the best Shonen anime, in my humble opinion), and has me genuinely reinvested in the series.

I enjoyed breaking down the shot composition for Tokyo Ghoul, so I wanted to to do something similar for My Hero, to show what good directing looks like. I won’t go quite as obsessively in depth, but the presentation is what sells this episode. Every battle has its own unique rhythm that mirrors the fighter’s combat style. For instance, one fight pits Bakugo and Todoroki against a  villain with long, metallic teeth that he props himself up on. Since the villain is high above our heroes, he’s introduced using a panning shot that slowly goes upwards. Then, when we see Bakugo talking, we get a upward panning shot of his face, going from his mouth up to a vein on his upper left temple. These shots both serve different purposes – the one gives us a sense of how high up the villain is, and the other puts emphasis on Bakugo’s comically expressive vein (which flinches everytime he gets pissed). By recycling the type of shot, it gives the scene a great sense of continuity.

Once the fight gets underway, the shot moves rapidly through the environment, as the villain swings around on the treetops with his elongated teeth. Then we get a shot of Bakugo standing up after an attack. His movement is highly exaggerated, and the shot’s movement perfectly mirrors his own. We are seeing the same type of shot recycled. There’s no reason we can’t have a still shot of Bakugo standing up. But by using the same shot over again, the scene feels cohesive – the battle has its own distinct flavor.

But the flavor of each individual fight only truly stands out when you experience them side by side. In the Bakugo fight, the shot move across the environment rapidly, zooming in and out and panning fast over scenery. But the fight directly after this one takes place in a toxic fog. Our characters are trapped in the poisonous haze, unable to move. As a result, the shots are all stationary. Also, the shots last much longer than the last scene – some are longer than ten seconds (an eternity for an action sequence). This way of presenting the scene emphasizes the helplessness of the characters. As the fight starts, the shots pan slightly to one side or the other. But once our heroes are being thoroughly trounced, the shots stop moving all together. And once the heroes gain the upper hand again, the shots get briefer and briefer, and exhibit progressively more dynamic movement.

Watching episode five of My Hero was a cathartic experience, especially after the dumpster fire that is Tokyo Ghoul: Re. Anime is an inherently visual media, so it’s frustrating when the visuals do not serve any purpose. But it’s not just the presentation that makes these fights work. What really sells the action is that the characters are capable of thought – when faced with an overwhelming adversary, they’ll retreat. When presented with an enemy ability, they’ll try to figure out how it works. In this regard, the episode has echoes of Hunter X Hunter, which meshed the zany superpowers of a shonen with the rational thinking of a more “serious” show.

If I have an issue with this episode, it’s that that the moments of clarity and strategic thinking make the nonsensical moments stick out like a sore thumb. For example, one of our heroes manages to disperse the toxic fog by using her giant hands as a fan, blowing it away. But why didn’t she try this several minutes ago, when her friend was curled up on the ground, being shot at? Also, right before she uses her fan move, she rushes at the villain and knocks him to the side with her giant hands. But she really only nudges him slightly. Why would you get close to the villain and give him the chance to shoot you, when your plan all along is to blow him away with your fan hands? Also, the villain establishes that he can see the heroes through his fog. If that’s the case, then why even wait for the heroes to get to you? Why not shoot them from a distance, since you can see everything and they can only see a few feet in front of them?

I know this is all very nitpicky, but the episode goes out of its way to show that the characters are thinking strategically. Then a minute later the characters are making completely stupid decisions. The characters are clearly only as smart or as stupid as the plot needs, and this inconsistency reveals the weakness of the writing. I’ve always felt the characters in My Hero are relatively flat and poorly defined, and this episode (as amazing as it is) further confirms this fact. But as an exploding action set piece with a fantastic visual flair and attention to detail, this episode is truly exemplary. Hats off to you My Hero.

My Hero Academia Review

hero 2If My Hero Academia were a food, it’d be a chocolate chip cookie – generic enough to appeal to anyone, good enough to be enjoyable, but ultimately lacking in substance. The ultimate comfort food. In many ways, it’s exactly what anime needed. Recent anime have been deadly serious, to the point of being no fun or lacking personality. I can’t help but feel part of the problem is the stigma surrounding anime, and its reputation for being “kid’s stuff.” As if in response, there has been one anime another that insists on being adult. “Look at me – I’ve got gore, swearing, and philosophy from Wikipedia. I’m all grown up now!” But the more anime demands to be taken seriously, the less compelling its case. Which is why My Hero is so refreshing. With its bright colors, general lack of profanity, and motivational speeches, My Hero manages to feel more adult than the vast majority of recent anime.

My Hero fulfills its purpose perfectly. It serves as a cathartic moment for anime – a reminder that it’s alright to have a little fun. But My Hero is no masterpiece. And again, that’s not an issue. Part of what makes it good is that it’s not trying to be. It comfortable with being a fun time. If I had a serious complaint, it would be it’s uncanny similarity to Naruto. And by Naruto, I mean the first eighty episodes or so. Naruto follows a similar structure, of the powerless kid who awakens a great power, has a strict teacher with magical red eyes, and has to do a series of dangerous combat style exams to prove himself. And while subjective, I’d say Naruto has more compelling stakes, interesting battles, and distinct characters.

Even if the comparison to Naruto isn’t convincing, My Hero Academia is certainly nothing new. It’s paying homage to classic shonen and comic book tropes, and manages to follow them pretty closely. And while someone could say that all shonen are similar, think of the big ones. Fullmetal Alchemist, Hunter x Hunter, and JoJo are all incredibly distinct. Yes, they follow the general code of shonen, but they defy comparison. Meanwhile, My Hero tends to blend in with the crowd.

My chief issue with My Hero is that is never pushes boundaries. It has a very “if it’s not broken, don’t fix it” mentality. And in a world of overly experimental shows and deconstructions, relying on solid tropes works well. We’re reminded why these sorts of shows did well in the first place. The only issue is, many of these shows did well because they were new. Having had decades of comic book stories and shonen anime, I’m ready for a twist on the classic formula.

But as formulaic as it can be, the formula works. A good example is the tournament arc. It’s nothing fancy – just a bunch of eccentric characters showcasing their superpowers. But it’s very entertaining and genuinely enthusiastic. It’s the kind of TV that puts a smile on my face.

So what’s there is wonderful. It’s what’s missing that bothers me. For instance, My Hero lacks the sense of grandeur and stakes that I’d find in anime like Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. Think of the final confrontation between Scar and Wrath. The animation isn’t bad, certainly, but certainly on a lower budget than several of My Hero’s fights. Yet nothing in My Hero can touch this battle. The dialogue is minimal but highly quotable, the stakes are real, and every blow feels significant. In comparison, the stakes are relatively simple in My Hero. We have a good guy and a bad guy, and we’re rooting for the good guy. This may sound like an oversimplification, but think of the few life and death battles in My Hero. The villains often show up out of the nowhere (or from a glowing purple portal), and rarely have much in the way of character development.

Or we can compare to Hunter X Hunter. While My hero incorporates strategy in many of its fights, it often feels like video game logic. Each boss has a weakness to be exploited. Meanwhile, in Hunter X Hunter, characters guess incorrectly about each others powers, things don’t always work out, and the fights have a generally organic feel to them.

I understand that I’m not discussing My Hero all that specifically in this review, but that’s because there’s not all that much to discuss. To reiterate, what’s there is great, but what’s missing is the stuff that makes me truly love a show. In brief, My Hero is flawed, but also what anime needs right now – a good time that’s not too clever for its own good. A show that wants to be sincere fun rather than reinvent the wheel.

Score: 7.8/10

My Hero has been a very enjoyable ride so far, now we just need to wait and see what staying power it has.

My Hero Academia Season 2 First Half Review

Hero

For me, the second season of My Hero Academia is a chance for redemption. It’s initial run was fun, colorful and at times, truly epic. But like most hero sagas, the first season was set on being an origin story, more setup than the main story itself. The problem is that Deku, our aspiring hero, is so simple minded. As such, twelve episodes feel excessive for telling his backstory. To put it in perspective, the first season amounts to roughly four hours of content, totaling two movies worth.

Thanks to Marvel, we have seen many origin stories, in half the time, and even that can feel too long. The issue is that season one knew where it wanted each episode to end. This approach led to some fantastic climaxes, but left the middles feeling stretched out. As such,  a lot of the show felt empty. At first I thought this emptiness was a result of the content, but it later occurred to me that the problem was with the presentation. For a show with such simple ideas and high energy, Hero Academia plodded along too slowly.

I appreciate that the first season did not try to outsmart its genre by being overly subversive. But I also found myself longing for more strangeness. It’s cool to see an homage to the textbook, “coming of age” hero story, but it doesn’t need twelve episodes. Again, most of my issues come back to the pacing. For instance, the entry exam did not need to take a whole episode, nor did Eraserhead’s physical exam. 

Season two has felt more appropriately paced, with most episodes introducing, resolving, and exploring a particular conflict. The stakes are far lower than season one, but this has been a welcome improvement. In season one, it’s clear that Deku will not be expelled, that his friends won’t be murdered by villains, and that everything will work out. The stakes have declined substantially, but as a result, the outcome is uncertain.

Additionally, this season does a better job of navigating its sprawling cast. Tournament arcs are effective because they offer a way to showcase each character’s personality and powers, while giving the show a way to structure itself. And rather than split various plot points and conflicts over multiple episodes, season 2 stays mostly compressed. Even climactic, centerpiece fights get resolved in a single episode.

Hero Acadamia’s strength is ultimately its light heartedness. In a world full of subversive and self referential television, My Hero is not trying to outsmart itself – it is not concerned with showing off how clever it can be. Sometimes it’s nice to focus on the fundamentals, like high budget action scenes and crazy characters. While the characters are not particularly complex, most have enough charm or zaniness to carry them through. Also, there are about a thousand characters, so each carries a small amount of narrative weight.

Ultimately, My Hero Academia is fun because it’s simple and honest.  When everything is trying so hard to be profound, it’s nice to watch something that prioritizes fun and entertainment. The only drawback is that Hero Academia can lack the strangeness of many anime. I often go to anime for something different, so in a world of Marvel films and superhero oversaturation, My Hero rarely doesn’t bring anything new to the table.

My Hero is ultimately hard to evaluate because it’s simply solid. When a show is either amazing or offensively bad, a review practically writes itself. My Hero is tricky because you could go without watching it, but there’s hardly any reason not to. I’ve enjoyed each episode, but once it’s finished, it goes away. I don’t catch myself thinking about it a week later, or ever being particularly surprised or awestruck.

The first half of season two is fun, and at times beautiful and high octane. It doesn’t distinguish itself, but sometimes that is refreshing. Sometimes something simple is what I need.