The revolving sushi restaurant chain Kura Sushi has been doing a collaboration with hololive, and I decided to check it out. By the time I got there, the available merch was done, but that was okay. My real goal was to taste the hololive-themed sushi.
Ouro Kronii’s “Tuna with Avocado Cream Cheese, which pairs soy-marinated tuna with avocado and cream cheese over Kura’s specialty sushi rice.”
The spokespeople for the collab were Ouro Kronii, Ninomae Ina’nis, and Gigi Murin. I don’t think there was any particular rhyme or reason to these three being the reps, but the official art was cute and I rolled with it all.
Gigi’s “Salmon & Tamago Spicy Roll, made with spicy salmon and tamago atop a shrimp mayo roll finished with panko crunchy flakes.”
One strange thing is that when I first sat down, only Kronii’s and Gigi’s were available. About 40 minutes in, though, Kronii’s ran out and Ina’s became available. Of the three, I liked Gigi’s best because it was the most esoteric and involved the blending of many flavors.
Ninomae Ina’nis’s “Spicy Crunchy Squid, featuring squid tempura topped with spicy mayo, eel sauce, and bonito flakes over Kura’s specialty sushi rice.”
Aside from the collab sushi, all items on the conveyor belt were the same price. This made certain items seem very much not worthwhile, and almost like pity options for those who might not be all that into sushi.
I ended up getting a $5 coupon, but it ended up being a pretty expensive dinner, so I don’t know if I’d go back just to use the discount before it expires. Despite that, I think this one trip was a fun outing, and I appreciate being able to try some nifty nigiri.
Before July of this year, I hadn’t been to a baseball game in a very, very long time. My last trip was as a kid, with a friend from school. Since then, baseball hasn’t really been on my radar. But when hololive announced that they were doing a second collaboration with the LA Dodgers on the same day as the Virtual Vacation 2025 concert, I figured why the hell not. The three VTubers participating were also another friend’s favorites, so it worked out.
Before talking about my experience, I will say that there are a few factors that make my experience likely atypical. First, because I already had tickets for Virtual Vacation 2025, I had to leave early to make sure I could get there in time. Second, Takanashi Kiara’s birthday concert was also happening during the same time frame, and I didn’t want to miss her first ever performance with La+ Darknesss. My attention was divided in a few different directions, and even the amount of downtime in baseball doesn’t exactly justify it.
In the days leading up, I looked up how to get to Dodger Stadium via public transit. This being LA, the answer was “lol.” Or more specially, you have a choice between a train that puts you ¾ of a mile away or a bus that puts you half a mile away. You need to take a car or taxi of some kind.
Everyone who bought tickets for the hololive event had to line up at a specific entrance, in the blazing early afternoon sun with little to no shade. That’s when I learned that you basically bring water just for the line. There was also a bit of a scare that security was confiscating penlights despite them being officially permitted, but it wasn’t an issue by the time I got there. Right after the security check, I received a packet with the three exclusive hololive x Dodgers baseball cards featuring Ninomae Ina’nis, IRyS, and Koseki Bijou. This alone made the trip worthwhile.
Once inside, two things I noticed were the festive environment before the game and the sheer size of the stadium.
Baseball fans were chatting, having lunch, dressed with the colors of their team and having a generally good time. While the only cosplayers there were hololive fans, the atmosphere reminded me of Anime Expo, which was happening the same weekend. I sometimes talk with friends about the high that comes from being at a convention, as well as the “crash” that comes from having to return to our regular lives, and what it might be like to be at an anime con all year round. While it’s not exactly the same, I imagine that having season tickets to your local baseball team (or perhaps just one of the massive ones like the Dodgers) would feel close to it.
In regard to the size of Dodgers Stadium, my seat was in the nosebleed section. I didn’t think it’d be too bad it took multiple disconnected flights of stairs and a couple escalators to get there. While there was an elevator option for parts of it, the line for it was massive. I felt bad for anyone who had mobility issues. Also, because the venue is so large, I couldn’t try all the interesting food options (sushi, takoyaki, etc.) because heading to any of those stands would’ve been a trip in itself. I will say the view from the cheap seats was still very good, though the internet service for my phone wasn’t so hot.
I heard stories about the massive bottleneck for merch at last year’s Dodgers event, and how some people missed the entire baseball game because they were standing in line the whole time. This year, the folks in charge of the event clearly learned their lesson by having many more shops carry the hololive collaborative goods. This had the benefit of allowing me to get my seat before the first inning, but it still took over half an hour, and I ended up missing the first pitch by Cover Corp CEO Tanigo “YAGOO” Motoaki as a result. I ultimately decided to purchase an IRyS t-shirt because I always wanted one, though I was taken aback by the cost: over $60. Even the more expensive anime and hololive shirts aren’t usually quite so pricey. After getting a Dodger Dog and a commemorative plastic cup, I made it to my seat.
I have some memories of the last time I attended a baseball game, but I don’t recall it being such an audiovisual bonanza. There was a lot going on besides the actual hitting, throwing, and catching of balls, and it felt like the whole of Dodger Stadium was a multimedia diss track shit talking the opposing team. I understand that bias in favor of the home team and against the visiting team is normal in sports, but this felt like another level. The organ would play funeral music every time the Dodgers pitcher struck a player out, and at one point, the jumbotron would put graphics of Dodgers caps onto Houston Astros fans to “improve” their appearance.
As the Dodgers started to fall behind, I could feel the energy in the stadium gradually deflate a little. Shohei Otani was indeed playing, but he didn’t do terribly well that day. The Dodgers caught up a bit, but as I found out later, they wound up losing the game by a couple points.
Every so often, Ina, IRyS, and Biboo would pop up on the jumbotron and say a few encouraging words. Unlike last year with Gura, Suisei, and Pekora, the three did their appearances using their 3D models (as opposed to their 2DLive models). It was fun but also kind of surreal to see them up there. I stuck around to watch the girls sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” before having to leave to make it to Virtual Vacation 2025.
Here is my recording of their singing, albeit one with lots of obstruction from other attendees. It’s definitely not the best choice if you want to see it, but I’m including it for posterity.
If the stars had not aligned in certain ways, I probably would not have gone, simply because baseball isn’t my thing. Even if all my favorites got together, I don’t know if it would justify the trip. Nevertheless, I was fascinated by the experience, and there is a certain joy in going to watch something different where people gather together. Maybe this is my excuse to check out other sports. Who knows? Perhaps we could get a re-creation of the Rinkside Rivalry audio drama.
VTubing has been an unpredictable space for the past year, to say the least. Talents have been debuting, leaving, and even re-emerging in different forms to such a degree that it feels like a decade has passed. Among those making big waves have been indie creators Dooby3D and Nimi Nightmare, who quickly grew into top names due to implied prior experiences.
So when the two announced a few months ago that they would be doing a concert in July, I knew I had to try for a ticket, especially as a big fan of Dooby. The creativity they both possess and the positive energy they exude are things I’ve experienced before in a live setting, and I wanted to support this venture of theirs.
Virtual Vacation 2025 was held on July 5 at the United Theater on Broadway in Los Angeles. Joining Dooby and Nimi were a couple other indie VTubers, Ashton Marten and Hyuni. While the latter two aren’t as well known, they each added their own unique flair. Ashton is a self-described retro roller rodent race queen, and she literally performed a song while on skates; that’s something I feel you need a lot of confidence to pull off as well as she did. Hyuni I felt had the most inherently “idol” energy and the best singing, but those more orthodox elements stood out against the other oddballs.
While neither Dooby nor Nimi are powerhouses on the stage, they still made a great impression. Seeing Dooby come out to “God knows…”wearing an outfit reminiscent of Suzumiya Haruhi’s bunny girl costume was magical. Watching her skanking on stage also brought back good memories. Nimi debuted her own idol outfit and sang one of her karaoke mainstays, “Lovefool” by the Cardigans, and her cover of “Ride on Time” keeps replaying in my head because of her dance that was somehow both cutely awkward and gracefully cool. Ever since ex-hololive member Gawr Gura sang the famous Yamashita Tatsuro song during her debut, it’s been a kind of anthem for VTubing, and hearing it from Nimi was really special in an indie event taking place after some real tumultuous months.
That wasn’t the only oblique reference towards hololive as a precedent either. While Ashton was teaching Nimi to roller skate, the latter likened herself to a newborn giraffe (kirin in Japanese). Later, Dooby sang “Magic Ways,” another Yamashita Tatsuro number. Right before the song began, Dooby encouraged everyone to turn their penlights blue “like the ocean,” and minutes into the performance came a familiar voice in the backing vocals that I suspected was the recently debuted yet familiar-sounding Sameko Saba. My hunch was later confirmed by Dooby and Saba themselves, the latter of whom was also the announcer at the start of the concert.
To top it all off, the encore was “Ochame Kinou,” an unofficial anthem that’s kind of a rite of passage for hololive talent. The choice felt to me like a deliberate connection between past, present, and future, and the reminder that this is something of a new age. It’s also interesting to compare with last year’s Fantôme Thief’s Revenge concert, where the callbacks included “Last Cup of Coffee,” and the encore was “Thanks for the Sex.” Truly, it was a contrast.
Speaking of Dokibird and Mint, the two appeared for a single song at Virtual Vacation not as full 3D models but as models made to look like stuffed dolls. Dooby showed up at Fantôme Thief’s Revenge, so this came across as a nice bit of reciprocation and fanservice. Speaking of fanservice, the antics among all the ladies had the crowd eating out of their hands. Perhaps most noteworthy was a moment where Nimi pantomimed giving Dooby CPR.
The overall presentation was quite professional, and I have no major complaints about OshiSpark and their approach. The United Theater itself has an art nouveau feel similar to the King’s Theater in Brooklyn, giving a sense of class to all us sweaty nerds. The viewing was typical of live VTuber fare, with a flat screen on stage, CG backgrounds that help to create the illusion of depth, and a couple other vertical screens for close-ups. The graphics used during the songs, especially the times when the main lyrics of a song displayed on the screen, had a nice summery feel that I enjoyed. One issue that did arise is that there was some conflicting information about when the concert was supposed to start, and it ended up kicking off at 845pm.
So I indeed went to a concert headlined by two VTubers not particularly known for their singing or dancing. That’s missing the point, though. What’s wonderful about stuff like this is that the fans can meet the talents where they are and bask in a shared moment. Having Ashton and Hyuni on board also gave those smaller fanbases an opportunity to gather in one spot and perhaps even add to their numbers. One of the things I really enjoy about the big hololive concerts is that exposure to talents you might not be familiar with, and this is the same idea on a smaller scale.
But I would be remiss to deny the progress that Dooby and Nimi have made as performers. Their improvement is noticeable and lovely to see, and I enjoy seeing them grow regardless of any specific adherence to the “idol journey.” I find that there’s happiness in seeing them just enjoy themselves more and more through song and dance, and it kind of makes me want to embrace a more theatrical side as well.
The last time we saw a figure skating anime hit big, it was the sensation known as Yuri!!! On Ice. Medalist takes a different approach, telling a story of both an older coach and a younger skater trying to make up for lost time.
Medalist follows Akeuraji Tsukasa, a former competitive ice dancer who retired after failing to podium in his final event. As a high schooler, he dreamed of competing, but went into ice dancing after being told he was too old to start in traditional figure skating. When he meets a meek yet oddly daring 10-year-old girl named Iori, he discovers in her a girl who so desperately wants to be a skater that the local rink’s security guard shows pity on her by letting Iori sneak in in exchange for worms. Witnessing Iori’s passion for the sport, Tsukasa volunteers to become her coach, but 10 is already considered a late start in a field where beginning at five years old is typical, and Iori’s own mother is dead-set against it because another daughter of hers was injured competing.
Medalist is originally a manga by Tsurumaikada, and it currently still runs in the magazine Monthly Afternoon: a seinen magazine with more of an otaku appeal aimed more at an older male audience, though it tends to be fairly experimental as well. I imagine this is why Medalist has the structure it does, with a grown man and a young girl sharing the spotlight. As the competitor, Iori has more of the classic sports manga thrust of improving and aiming to overcome rivals, but it’s told more often from Tsukasa’s perspective as a guiding hand. These dual threads are interesting in that sports series tend to place the vast majority of the emphasis on one side or the other. With Tsukasa and Iori, however, you get to see things two ways most of the time: from the point of view of an older person who knows what it’s like to fall short of a dream, and that of a younger person anxious to compete but who dwells on the here-and-now. They’re also both passionate and timid in different ways, creating a fun and frantic dynamic between coach and player.
One of the basic questions of the series is “Where do you find your inner strength?” Is it built up as you stack blocks of experience bit by bit? Does it come from desperation to do all you can with what you have? Is it about “believing in me who believes in you?” One of Tsukasa’s greatest strengths is his ability to recognize what others do well and give them the encouragement to keep at it, such as when he lights a fire under Iori. At the same time, Tsukasa has no confidence in himself, which seems to consign him to a fate of being a great coach and a mediocre act were he to ever compete again.
Yet, when another ex-skater sees Tsukasa, he points out that it’s a flaw for one to assume they’re the underdog even when they’re not. As the series progresses, we get to see conundrums not just Tsukasa and Iori but also an ever-expanding cast of friends and rivals have their own takes on such challenges. They show the complex feelings that come with competition, and knowing that the people you’re facing bring their own strong convictions and desires to make it to the top.
Medalist is a great work, and it’s worth checking out in anime or manga form. As for which is preferable, it really depends on what you’re looking for. The anime has the advantage of being able to portray figure skating in full motion with sound, replicating the feeling of watching and experiencing competitions. The manga is further along in its story, and the intensity of the art makes it feel as if the characters are radiating energy when they compete. Certain characters can give a very different impression as a result of the stylistic differences: Kamisaki Hikaru, the #1 skate in Iori’s age group, looks aloof in the anime but sometimes seems to border on sociopath in the manga. But no matter the medium, Tsukasa and Iori are a wonderful and endearing duo who work together to tell a story about striving for a dream while also trying to give hope to the next generation.
Anime Central 2025 was home to the United States premiere of the final Thunderbolt Fantasy movie. I reviewed the film, but because there was so much other stuff, I didn’t want to cram it all into one post. So here we are with Part 2, which covers things that happened both before and after the screening. Note that much of what’s written below contains SPOILERS for the finale.
Red Carpet Gala
Before the screening, ACen actually set up a red carpet of sorts and allowed photographs of the puppets. Some cosplayers were also there—one who later turned out to be PILI puppeteer Osmond Pi Ting, and a couple who were just really dedicated fans.
Live Demonstrations
After the screening, the staff also put on demonstrations of the puppets as they went around the room. Music and sound of different characters played, and the puppeteers moved the puppets with grace and beauty.
Osmond (cosplaying as the Enigmatic Gale) also participated, and at one point even “fought” the Demon Lord.
Panel Q&A Notes
PILI also provided lots of fascinating information about their process in a Q&A section.
Audio is recorded first, and then the puppeteers at according to the voices and sounds
The giants and monsters (such as the gorilla mecha and the emperor made of magical swords) are played by live actors in suits
They actually only use one camera to film for the most part. Two cameras are utilized for explosions and such, though.
The sage who created the swords is actually based on a famous character from PILI’s shows. One of his appearances is in the 2000 film Legend of the Sacred Stone, where he was voiced by Koyasu Takehito in the Japanese dub. Koyasu reprised the role for Thunderbolt Fantasy.
Some puppets are heavier and can be harder to puppet. In some action scenes, three people might be needed to puppet
Traditionally, PILI lets the sculptors do the creating and go straight into making the puppets. Thunderbolt Fantasy was different because they got the designs from Japan. Simple puppets like Shāng might need two weeks, while more complex ones like the yandere princess might need two months because of all the 3D printing for her accessories.
There were two puppeteers among the guests. One was Osmond (the aforementioned cosplayer and puppeteer), who is one of their newest recruits. He likes to handle the female characters because he’s adept at conveying softer movements. The other was Yu-Che Hsieh, a 30-year veteran. He likes to puppet action scenes.
Who decides the signature gestures of characters? They’re designed by the puppeteers based on the script, and then go about trying to get their personality down.
TM Revolution definitely liked working on the series. In one of his music videos, he had Làng come out to interact with him. Làng allowed him to play a character who actually survived [as opposed to dying quickly like his Gundam SEED characters], which he was happy about.
PILI staff sometimes had to come out covered in fake blood when making trips to the convenience store. Bystanders wondered whether they should call the cops.
That’s it for this post! Stay tuned for Part 3: An Interview with the staff of PILI and Thunderbolt Fantasy!
I’ve never played League of Legends, but I decided to watch Arcane after seeing it consistently praised by all sorts. Now, having finished the first season, I understand why it is beloved in a way far different from the also-popular game it calls its source material: two-dimensional personalities given depth through a story about family and class differences, combined with an attractive aesthetic that marries cool action with a colorful, yet gritty environment. Playable characters are seen in a new light, such as fan favorite Jinx, who goes from a Harley Quinn–esque goth punk to, well, basically the same thing but with a method to her madness and a tinge of tragedy.
It’s not the first instance of taking rougher materials and bringing them all together to make a creative work with more cohesion. Alternate stories with familiar characters, be they done by professionals or fan amateurs, are a way to tell stories that might not happen otherwise. That’s why I was surprised to find out that Riot Games has decided to make Arcane the official League of Legends canon and retcon everything else to fit it. That indicates just how successful Arcane has been, because reshaping your lore in your 15-year-old series is no simple task.
One article I read about the retcon mentioned that League of Legends has plenty of established backstory, though players were not necessarily engaging with it in-game. I think the difference with Arcane is that the previous stuff apparently felt like either scraps of lore dumps, whereas actual stories told through a narrative just hit differently. They create a sense of connection to the characters as creatures of thought and emotion whose lives have stakes.
The closest thing I can compare to Arcane is the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. In its case, the franchise began by bringing together action figures from multiple Japanese toy lines under one banner and giving these toys basic names and designations of good and evil (Autobot or Deception). But the 1980s cartoon went such a long way in establishing those toys as characters that it became the benchmark for how all Transformers works, and to some extent all similar multimedia properties are perceived. Optimus Prime was vaguely a heroic truck in toy form, but with his battles against Megatron animated, he became the strong and gentle leader with an unparalleled moral core that we still think of today.
I don’t know if the Arcane retcon is working, but I’d love to know if people have indeed been convinced to play League of Legends because of it, and whether the refocus has been welcome or not. (Though I still will probably never play the game.)
I follow the VTuber La+ Darknesss, who reads a lot of manga on a regular basis. Every so often, she throws out a recommendation, and one such title that caught my attention was Oshi ga Yameta, or My Fav Idol Quit.
Miyabi is a 25-year-old woman who is obsessed with a male idol, the 22-year-old Miku. She devotes her entire life to supporting him, even going as far as doing sex work to fund her fandom. Miyabi also meets up with a group of like-minded women, each of whom have their own favorite idols, and each of whom have their own secrets about their personal lives. But when Miku announces that he’s quitting the business, Miyabi ends up like a boat adrift in the ocean. What she doesn’t realize is that Miku’s retirement is the catalyst for drama, turmoil and discovery—not only for Miyabi and Miku, but also the people around them.
The world of Japanese idols is a great subject for stories because the clash of fantasy and reality is inherent to it. Oshi ga Yameta focuses on the drive of fans to keep living in an illusory world, but not solely in a negative manner or judgmental manner. Individual and societal circumstances, like the pressure put on Japanese women to marry young, undergird the seemingly foolish decisions being made by idol fans. At the same time, the manga also portrays the idols themselves as being of all stripes, from those who genuinely buy into the idol image to those who enter the industry with ulterior motives. The lives depicted feel both ugly and beautiful, and it’s not always clear which aspects are which. Is Miyabi’s main sex client any better or worse than Miyabi herself in terms of how passion, love, and lust intertwine?
Comparing it to the biggest idol drama work of the day in Oshi no Ko, Oshi ga Yameta entirely lacks the supernatural elements as a plot hook. The latter also maintains its heroine’s perspective as a fan and nothing more (as opposed to having her enter the industry), and puts greater emphasis on the torrent of complicated emotions arising from a lifestyle that is both self-affirming and self-sabotaging. The art in Oshi ga Yameta is also very different, showing a messier style with less distinct differences in character designs, but which emphasizes its characters’ own dysfunctions and roiling emotions. The two series do resemble each other more in certain ways, but it’s not immediately obvious how.
I originally planned to read all of Oshi ga Yameta a lot sooner, so it’s funny that I would finish after the news about the Fuji TV scandal involving the former leader of the idol mega group SMAP. Juxtaposing this real scandal with that of the manga’s, it becomes clear that there’s still an element of fantasy even as stories feel “too real.” But the ability to approach sensitive topics while cloaked in fiction helps to provide plenty of food for thought, and this particular manga provides a hell of a buffet.
In 2016, I was looking at a preview of the new anime season with friends, as was our custom. We talked about the shows we thought had potential, the ones we were more skeptical about, and anything else of note. But there was one series that seemed to come completely out of left field. A Taiwan-Japan co-production that wasn’t animated but rather performed using puppets, and it was written by Urobuchi Gen of Madoka Magica fame?! Even if we potentially did not end up liking it, we had to at least give this Thunderbolt Fantasy a chance.
Nine years later, and this series has become one of my absolute favorite works of fiction ever. The novelty of its puppetry never actually wears off, and it’s backed by solid writing and charismatic voice actors giving some of their best performances, as well as a sense of tension and excitement that had me coming back for more. So when I found out that they would be doing the North American premiere of the feature-length Thunderbolt Fantasy: The Final Chapter, I made it my mission to attend the convention.
This is my review of the movie, but since then, the movie has come out on Crunchyroll under the name Thunderbolt Fantasy -The Finale-. I recommend you just get straight into watching it, but feel free to proceed if you want my thoughts. Note that there will be a MAJOR SPOILERS section at the bottom.
The Basics
Thunderbolt Fantasy is set in a world once ravaged by a war against demonkind, which humanity barely won thanks to the help of a series of divine weapons. In the long years since this War of Fading Dusk, the weapons have been sought after by the righteous and the evil alike.
When we first see the two main characters of our story—no-nonsense vagrant swordsman Shāng Bú Huàn and white-haired pain-in-the-ass illusionist Lǐn Xuě Ya—they have just met each other for the first time, and both are holding their own respective secrets. At the end of the first season, we learn that Shāng is not only a ridiculously powerful swordsman who can wield a wooden stick like it was real steel, but that he’s also in possession of the Sorcerous Sword Index: a special scroll designed to house all sorts of supernaturally powerful weapons. Shāng carries it to prevent the weapons from falling into the wrong hands, notably the Order of the Divine Swarm, a clandestine organization seeking to conquer the world.
But Lǐn the “Enigmatic Gale” has been far more, well, enigmatic. Throughout the prior seasons, he appears to just be an elusive trickster who finds joy in aggravating the powerful. But in the penultimate chapter, we finally learn a truth even he didn’t know: Lǐn is actually a kind of “offshoot” of the Demon Lord who rules the Demon Realm, cast away and abandoned to remove any of the leader’s weakness. Lǐn thus has a revelation that the greatest target to torment would be essentially none other than himself.
Three other major plot points help create the backdrop for the end. First, the leader of the Divine Swarm, Huò Shì Míng Huáng, turns out to be the Emperor of Xī Yōu, the land which Shāng was trying to leave. This means the emperor was playing both sides of the law the entire time. Second, one of Shāng’s old allies, a bard named Làng Wū Yáo (voiced by rock star TM Revolution!) is actually half demon and is being forcibly transformed into an infernal god by his long-lost father. Third, the armies of Dōng Lí and Xī Yōu (the East and the West) are on the verge of coming together to fight a new war against the demons, though the former doesn’t know a thing about the latter’s true identity.
The Final Chapter
I’ll admit that I don’t have the most rigorous grasp on the full story of Thunderbolt Fantasy. There’s a lot I’ve forgotten over the years among all the different plot threads, and I suspect many coming into this movie would be in a similar situation. However, I actually don’t think you need to have an encyclopedic knowledge of all that has transpired to enjoy the film. In addition to just being incredibly entertaining, the characters all have such bombastic designs and larger-than-life personalities that it’s easy to identify what roles they each serve in the overall narrative, even if the details are a little fuzzy.
That said, the movie is (as expected) not meant to be watched without any prior exposure to the show, and it does little in the way of actively filling in the blanks for the uninformed. It feels very much like the conclusion of a long-running TV series than a work meant to stand entirely on its own legs. Things happen fast and furious, not only in terms of the pace of the storytelling but also the action. The fights are more complex and relentless compared to what is typically seen in Thunderbolt Fantasy, and rivals even the greatest martial arts fight scenes in history.
In a certain sense, this is PILI taking off its weighted clothes and unleashing its full potential. The studio has a four-decade history of creating action-oriented puppet TV shows in Taiwan, and if you compare Thunderbolt Fantasy to their other works, the latter often turn into such never-ending frenzies of stylized violence that the notion of “breathing room” is a suggestion at best. But action in Thunderbolt Fantasy is slower and more deliberate, emphasizing the drama over a fight choreography built on countless details. In The Final Chapter, we get the best of both worlds.
Battles truly feel like the characters are fighting with everything they have, while the narrative and the characters’ individual motivations provide context to give their movements meaning and weight. Lǐn fights his doppelganger, the Demon Lord, and they naturally match each other move for move. Làng’s travel companion, a sentient pipa, has turned human and fights with strings befitting a former instrument. When he runs into a yandere princess puppeting two magical corpses at the expense of her own life force in order to take on Làng’s demonic father, the three-way back-and-forth is nonstop but also relatively easy to follow. And when Shāng finally gets the chance to wield a non-wooden sword after nine years of avoiding it, his assault is all the more special.
The plot twists and dramatic turns are all really satisfying in a way that screams “epic finale,” and the respective fates of all the big villains provide perfect bookends to all their stories. The film even touches on the origins of Shāng himself, and it was the last thing I could have ever predicted. That being said, I want to discuss some of the details of the ending.
SPOILERS SECTION
There are three major spoilers I wanted to write about in greater detail.
The first thing is Shāng being in the same company as Marty McFly (Back to the Future), John Connor (Terminator), and Philip J. Fry (Futurama). Essentially, he turns out to be the son of Lāng and the blind harpist Mù Tiān Mìng, both with whom he fought side by side before the start of Thunderbolt Fantasy. They realize their baby is somehow the Shāng they know, and the couple gives him up to the sentient pipa-turned-human, who apparently comes to raise him in another realm so that he will be ready to fulfill his destiny.
I definitely did not expect that, and based on the audience reaction, I don’t think anyone did. I also genuinely thought he had romantic feelings for Mù, but I guess it turned out to be more filial. They hinted at Shāng being a time traveler of sorts in Season 4, and possibly before that as well, but it implies the source of Shāng’s unparalleled swordsmanship: the fact that the man has trained across time and space and dimensions since he was a child. So he was the child who saved everyone, and also got his own parents together, to an extent. At least he did not sleep with his own grandmother.
The second thing is the way the leader of the Divine Swam is defeated, and the aftermath of his loss. There’s something a little hokey but absolutely wonderful about him using all the divine weapons of the Sorcerous Sword Index to transform into a gigantic armored demigod. A part of me wishes he was vanquished in a more conventional manner, but I think what happens fits the story incredibly well.
Shāng uses the one remaining blade, and while it seems to have no effect on Huò, it seems to be opening up a rift in the sky. Realizing the true nature of the weapon in his hand, Shāng proceeds oto summon Bái Lián, the sage who originally created the weapons (and whom he met in Season 3). Bái Lián proceeds to forcibly bring the emperor into the void beyond and back home to his own world where the weapons came from, and where they are now rusted and lifeless. The emperor tries to use his dark magic to threaten Bái Lián but finds that he can’t form spells. Bái Lián tells him that had he arrived in this realm as himself, he would have retained his powers, but by tying his very being to the weapons, he is now as inert as they are, and the only thing he can do is live like any other average person. His precipitous fall from world conqueror to commoner breaks him.
I love this so much. Not only is it rather cathartic given the state of the actual world right now, but I really find pleasure in seeing someone who believed they were untouchable be laid low and made to feel vulnerable. The villain really thought he was inherently superior and deserving of ruling over his entire world, and the fact that he can’t handle the idea of fending for himself the way everyone else does is the justest of deserts. (See also JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Golden Wind). Bái Lián is also based on a popular recurring character in PILI’s Taiwanese puppet shows, so his presence at the climax is also a way to pay homage to the studio that made all this possible.
The third thing is Lǐn taking over as Demon Lord. Hilarious. We get that silly moment where Shāng sees through his disguise and refuses to duel to the death with the Enigmatic Gale (“Of course it’s you. I’ve never even met the Demon Lord, so why would he want to fight me?). We also get to think about just how a Demon Realm ruled by the most egregious troll in all of existence would turn out.
SPOILERS OVER
Concluding Thoughts…and More
What a fantastic ride. I’ve been told that this movie was originally supposed to be a full season, and it does show to a degree, but I still think this was a wonderful way to close the book on Thunderbolt Fantasy. It was the essence of this whole international creative endeavor boiled down to a clean 90-ish minutes, and had me coming away grateful to have learned about it nearly a decade ago.
So those are my thoughts on the movie, but this is actually just the first part of my Thunderbolt Fantasy coverage from ACen 2025. There was a “red carpet gala” to show off the puppets before the screening, as well as a Q&A afterwards with some live puppet demonstrations. Even more exciting, I got the chance to interview the PILI staff and even try out one of the puppets!
Of all the decades-long science fiction mega franchises in the world, Doctor Who is definitely one where I’ve long had little, if any exposure.
In my head, it was always this series where people got mad if I called the main character “Doctor Who.” It also had the image of being a relatively low-budget serial adventure that suddenly became big again around 2006 or so, had been going on since television was black and white, and somehow had still kept going. It was (somehow) a still-ongoing story whose various hiccups and plot inconsistencies can be hand-waved away with suspension of disbelief and time travel shenanigans—not unlike a mix of soap opera, pro wrestling, and Star Trek, with shades of the legacy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in more modern times.
Oh, and I enjoyed seeing that one scene of Daleks vs. Cybermen. It works even without knowing a single bit of actual Doctor Who context.
But until recently, I don’t think I quite appreciated the lasting impact Doctor Who has made on culture and entertainment—not just in the UK, but around the world too.
I think there were two things that prompted me to start looking at the series more in-depth. First, I kept seeing people (including VTubers like Gawr Gura) make reference to the Doctor Who monsters known as Weeping Angels. Second, I read that the Doctor Who theme song is iconic, identifiable, and still very unique even after 60 years…and I couldn’t recognize it even if you played it in full for me. Knowing that this was a missing piece of television and pop culture education in my brain was my motivation to learn. And with a lot of help from a very well-maintained official Doctor Who Youtube channel, I started to just watch clips of iconic scenes from throughout its run going all the way back to the First Doctor. I read discussions about “who’s the best Doctor,” knowing that this debate has been going on for literal decades and across generations and waves of nostalgia. I learned that the aforementioned theme song is one of the two most continuously used theme songs ever (the other being James Bond), and even influenced Pink Floyd.
But one thing I held back on was watching actual full episodes of Doctor Who. Where do you even start? It’s a challenging question, even when compared to similarly old franchises like Gundam or Star Wars don’t have to face. In those cases, “go with some version of the original” does the trick, but with Doctor Who, there are literal episodes of the early era that were never archived, and by most estimations, Doctor Who didn’t hit its stride until at least a few years in.
I ultimately went with “Genesis of the Daleks,” a story from the Fourth Doctor era, because I read that it’s a widely beloved episode featuring one of the most popular Doctors of all time. I understood that it risked color my perception of Doctor Who to an extent, and that it would give me perhaps a different impression from the 21st-century “New Who” era that helped drive Tumblr discourse for over a decade alongside Supernatural and Sherlock (the so-called SuperWhoLock fandom). If this was the “peak” of Doctor Who, I tried to remember that the series is a range and not a single mountain.
I was impressed. Within the caveat of it still being fairly hokey, the basic plot is surprisingly serious and fraught with profound ethical dilemmas. The Doctor being forced to go back in time to try and stop the creation of the cruel, genocidal war machines that would become his greatest nemesis. He finds himself in a “would you shoot Baby Hitler?” scenario and a chance to convince the father of this army of Baby Hitlers to change his mind, only to realize that this creator is beyond all help. (And if the Nazi analogy wasn’t clear enough, all the soldiers fighting this forever war are all very SS-coded.) For a show aware of and expecting young viewers among its audience, these are heavy topics.
(I also can’t help but think about the fact that Nazis were still fresh in the general memory of humanity at this point. It’s perhaps appropriate that I’m watching this at a time when we are realizing once again that Nazism and fascism are clear and present threats that must be confronted.)
But even putting aside the weightiness of the topics, what truly makes “Genesis of the Daleks” work are the performances of the actors themselves. Tom Baker as the Doctor is so very convincing, both in terms of his portrayal of this eccentric protagonist around whom the series revolves, but also with the way he seems to really grapple morally and philosophically with the potential impacts of his decisions. Baker isn’t alone, either, as other actors (notably Elizabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith) also bring a sense of sincerity to their performances.
The ability to make you believe that the characters believe their own words reminds me a lot of tokusatsu from Japan: The shows might look cheap, but the actors and presentation make the stakes feel real, and that’s something that can ring true on some level even if the writing, the visuals, or storytelling styles change. It’s also the case that, like Doctor Who, franchises such as Ultraman and Kamen Rider have themselves been ongoing for decades—with new protagonists coming in on a regular basis, and with continuous growing pains as they try to adapt to the changing times. Because of all this, I came to the conclusion that Doctor Who is basically British tokusatsu.
It’s actually more coincidence than anything else that I started watching Doctor Who during a time that I’ve heard about some wild things going on. I don’t pretend to have an opinion on all that because, well, I’ve just dipped my toes in. But it is funny and amazing to me that this work of fiction is somehow both massive and small, and that it has existed long enough to have made a mark on both the history of prog rock and Tumblr. I don’t know how much more I’ll end up watching, but never say never.
And did I write all that just to talk about watching a single Doctor Who story? Yes. Yes I did.
Cobra Kai finished earlier this year after six seasons, and it has me remembering when I started the Karate Kid spin-off. Back then, it really surprised and impressed me with how much it avoided being a regressive nostalgia fest and tried to put out new ideas, and all while having the old characters look over a new generation of karate students. But like with so many popular things, a bad ending can really sour a series as a whole, so I was still a bit cautious. There’s a reason I’ve never really written about Game of Thrones.
Thankfully, despite the later seasons dragging in places and sometimes forcing drama in certain places like there was an obligation to do so, Cobra Kai finishes strong both emotionally and thematically. It also understands something very fundamental: A show based on The Karate Kid needs to begin and end with karate.
Everything I wrote in my previous review still holds up. Cobra Kai stresses the importance of finding balance, but that there is no one-size-fits-all approach. Sometimes, the aggressive approach of Cobra Kai is exactly what a person needs, but following it to the extremes can cause more harm than good—something Johnny Lawrence (the main character of the series and original bad boy of the franchise) knows all too well. Miyagi-Do, the style and life philosophy of the “Karate Kid” himself, Daniel LaRusso, is more defensive and less likely to lead someone down a dark path, but it might not have the sheer force to break through to the hearts of those who aren’t receptive to it.
There are numerous moments in the show that stress this point, but I think one of the most powerful comes when the character Tory Nichols is facing Sam (daughter of Daniel) to see who will represent Miyagi-Do in the women’s division of the world karate tournament, the Sekai Taikai. Tory’s mother has just passed away, and the girl is distraught and emotionally unstable during the match. The LaRussos see this fact and try to stop Tory, but Johnny understands that Tory needs to let out her emotions through this fight. While Daniel’s heart is in the right place, it’s Johnny who better understands what Tory is going through, and the former’s failure to recognize that causes Tory to abandon Miyagi-Do.
Eventually, pretty much all the characters get their happy endings, which might feel a bit hokey, but the nature of each one really speaks to the unique qualities of each individual. With the setting of a tournament to determine the world’s greatest karate dojo, each person must achieve their balance.
Robby Keene (Johnny’s once-estranged son) has had a rough past with negligent parents and getting roped into the wrong crowd, and Miyagi-Do has helped him temper his anger. When his opponent in the semifinals, Axel Kovačević, purposely breaks his leg, however, Robbie is forced to forfeit. Yet, while he wishes he could have won in front of the world, he also knows in his heart that he had what it took to do so, even if a dirty trick stopped him.
Sam LaRusso decides to quit in the semifinals and give Tory a bye to the finals, it’s because she realizes that she never got into karate to prove that she was the best or the greatest. It’s helped her find good friends, a great boyfriend (despite some Teen Karate Drama), and even mend fences with her rival in Tory. Karate opened the world to her, and she ends up going to college in Okinawa (the birthplace of karate).
Tory Nichols, however, is not like Robby or Sam. She has a chip on her shoulder, guilt over causing so many problems, and a burning desire to beat the crap out of Zara: the arrogant, man-stealing, social media darling waiting for her in the finals. Zara knows how to get into Tory’s head, but an “I love you” and a kiss from Robby brings her back to take 1st place. What Tory needed was to realize that she had people on her side no matter what. When she and Robby also get offers for karate sponsorships, she gains the stability she’s always been searching for.
Miguel Diaz, Johnny’s first student and in many ways the heart and soul of the Cobra Kai series, finds balance in bringing together all the experience he’s gained from not just karate but bonding with everyone. He’s no longer the weak, bullied kid he once was. At the same time, all the challenges he’s faced and the lessons he’s learned from both Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do unite in him to win the finals against Axel.
As for Axel, he might have been responsible for Robby’s injury, but he ultimately refuses to let the toxicity of his own sensei control him. Despite having strong romantic feelings for Sam (who is Miguel’s girlfriend), as well as being told that his life is worthless without victory, he chooses to be the better man and fight honorably. He helps highlight another key aspect of Cobra Kai: The purpose of teachers and mentors is to pass on the good lessons and understand what should remain in the past. And this isn’t just subtext—it’s stated outright.
Nowhere is this idea more ironically poignant than the original big, bad villain of The Karate Kid: John Kreese. He is responsible for so much of the misery brought forth by the Cobra Kai dojo. The Cobra Kai series delves into his past as a traumatized Vietnam veteran who tried to instill in his students the mantra of “strike hard, strike fast, no mercy” as a way to make them invincible, and it isn’t until the very end that he realizes how much damage he’s caused in the process.
I find the moment of Kreese’s inner revelation interesting, because it doesn’t seem to click until he sees the real master of the Cobra Kai style (an elderly Korean man) using his weaker students as fodder to train the stronger. Even Kreese wanted only to drive weakness out of his students, and not to sacrifice them on the altar of strength. When he remembers his own commander in the Vietnam War (and the one who originally taught him Tang Soo Do) allowing his subordinates to fight to the death as POWs instead of acting as a leader, Kreese decides to end the cycle of abuse, albeit decades after he already traumatized Johnny, LaRusso, and many others. However, he can’t stop being the man he’s been, so his ultimate act of closure is to stop his former friend and literal comrade-in-arms Terry Silver from kidnapping Johnny’s family by fighting Silver and blowing up his yacht. (Whee.)
It all comes to a head when Johnny has to face another teacher, the Iron Dragons’ Sensei Wolf, to determine the overall winning team of the Sekai Taikai. Wolf is younger, stronger, faster, and more skilled, making Johnny the complete underdog, and he’s overwhelmed by fear during the match. But Daniel, knowing Johnny all too well, goes against his normally gentle demeanor and tells him that fear does not exist in Cobra Kai and to “stop being a pussy.” When it comes down to the last point, Johnny sees himself in the same position he was in when he lost to Daniel back in 1984. This time, however, Johnny takes a defensive stance. He looks like he’s about to perform Daniel’s move, the Crane Kick, but instead sweeps the leg and uses the advantage he gains from that to finish Wolf and win it all.
Daniel came to realize that the crass and aggressive philosophy of Cobra Kai was what he needed to successfully communicate with a panicked Johnny, but he used it to communicate a lesson Mr. Miyagi taught him: You can lose the match, but you must not lose to fear. Johnny, in turn, used the patient defense of Miyagi-Do but adapted it to his own style, changing the context of the iconic “sweep the leg” line that is one of the most lasting pieces of pop culture from The Karate Kid.
Overall, through the ups and downs, Cobra Kai sticks the landing magnificently. It understands that it has old fans watching, but also a new audience who don’t know anything about Karate Kid. It stresses that the young can learn from the old, and that the old can learn from the young.
As a final note, I think one thing that really gets across the positive vibes of the series is the sheer number of cameos from the old movies. They seem to be there to give props to as many people who were involved with The Karate Kid, no matter how big or small their roles were. It’s a celebration in the best way: One that knows that when the party ends, there’s still more to do to make life better.
OGIUE MANIAX 