Category Archives: review

I Ate Nissin Curry Meshi Thanks to hololive

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Truly “instant” curry rice is something I’ve always wanted, but the idea of a truly shelf stable with absolutely minimal prep time seemed a bit farfetched. That’s why I was surprised a few years ago to see Minato Aqua, Oozora Subaru, and Usada Pekora from hololive promoting a new product called Nissin Curry Meshi, i.e. Japanese curry rice in a cup.

When I traveled to Japan last year, I used the opportunity to get some for myself. What I didn’t know is that there were multiple versions at this point: the original; the “perfect meal” version; extra spicy; and hayashi, which is technically not curry but often gets lumped in with it. Yotsuba famously called hayashi “fake curry.”

As stated in the hololive video above, preparing these instant curries involves adding water to the cup, waiting a few minutes, and then stirring continuously to get the roux to melt and mix with the rice. It’s a little more involved than Cup Noodles, but not by much.

Every flavor tastes close enough to what they claim to be. They hit the right notes, and wouldn’t be mistaken for anything else. I do think the perfect meal version kicks the whole product into the realm of the mildly inconvenient with its extra separate curry powder, but it ends up tasting all right overall. 

Regular

The rice is decent but does not taste 100% authentic. It’s unlikely anyone would confuse this for fresh (or even day old) rice if it was served in a blind taste test. It sort of reminds me of a rice-based breakfast cereal in that it feels like dehydrated rice that has been reconstituted, but not necessarily like it’s cooked rice that has dried out. It’s like the curry isn’t quite all there, nor is the rice, but together, they make for a decent facsimile.

Some of the containers suggest adding a raw egg after pouring the water, but depending on how comfortable you are with eating very undercooked eggs (or how where you live treats its eggs), it might not be the best idea. 

Hayashi (left) and Keema (right)

In recent years, Nissin has been selling its seafood and curry Cup Noodles in the US, and these products are closer to the more high-quality versions found in Japan. I hope that they find a way to bring Curry Meshi here. It’s not the best thing in the world, but I could see it doing well with those who want something quick and easy but are getting tired of instant noodles. 

(It does make me wonder if Nissin branches would come up with flavors to cater to local tastes. Maybe instead of Curry Meshi, we’d get instant rice and beans.)

The Amiba Isekai Has a More Balanced Roster than the Original Fist of the North Star

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Fist of the North Star Side Story: The Genius Amiba’s Otherworld Conqueror Legend is a spin-off manga that has rarely disappointed. Its silly premise is that the minor villain Amiba (aka Fake Toki) has been isekai’d, only rather than getting killed by a truck, it was death by Kenshiro. And instead of getting run over, it was being violently exploded while forced to walk backwards off a ledge. 

Amiba is a delusional asshole who has noteworthy skill but frequently overestimates himself. He is devoid of honor and compassion, and cares little about anything but showing what a “genius” he is. It’s why he’s such an insufferable enemy in the main series, but the funny thing is that the guy’s poor personality results in a manga with a much more balanced roster of good guys when he’s the lead.

In the original Fist of the North Star, Kenshiro is a perfect hero to a fault. He’s great for his story, but he also always overshadows his allies because he’s the strongest, kindest, and most badass guy around. A similar thing happens with other spin-offs: Whether it’s Raoh, Toki, or whoever, they’re often portrayed as being a level or ten above those around them. Not so with Amiba. 

In the new world he finds himself in, Amiba has little natural aptitude for the sorcery inherent to it. But while his Hokuto Shinken skills are woefully incomplete compared to the true masters of his original life, such martial arts skills are virtually unheard of in the other world. Many characters outclass him in a few (or many) ways, and it means that Amiba can’t do everything on his own despite thinking he can. As the roster of allies (all of whom are parodies of existing FotNS characters) grows, they function much more as a team than Kenshiro and friends ever did. Whether it’s Toluukin the great mage (Toki), Shuuza of the Clouds (Juuza), or a gigantic grandma (who is actually not an oversized goon in disguise but rather the headmaster of an elite wizard school), everyone shores up the others’ weak points.

It’s great. Amiba makes for a fun main character because he’s so utterly flawed. The series doesn’t celebrate that fact—more using it as the basis for its humor—but it also provides plenty of opportunity for growth to an extent. At the end of Volume 7, Amiba is outnumbered against the Demon Lord’s army. Defeating them would be impossible, but then all the people he met in this other world appear, ready to help him (think Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers or Avengers: Endgame). In response to the overwhelming support, Amiba talks about all he sees around him are idiots, but that together, they can accomplish what average nobodies never could—that collectively, they are geniuses.

Amiba is still the height of arrogance and selfishness, but now he’s extended that attitude to include all his allies. He won’t ever be the hero Kenshiro is, but he can make a difference in his own way (if he can manage to get over himself).

A Locomotive of Motives: Train to the End of the World

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I don’t know if Train to the End of the World is a true turning point in anime, but it feels like an important intersection of a lot of trends and forces that have been at play over the past ten, maybe even twenty years. 

In the world of the near future, an attempt to launch a 7G network actually twists Japan into a nigh-unrecognizable land of bizarre mysteries and fundamental changes to everything people know. In the city of Agano, adults have turned into sentient animals, wireless communications are dead, and information is hard to come by. Chikura Shizuru is a student living in Agano, going through their daily lives in the fallout of the 7G Incident, but when she learns that her missing friend Yoka might be in Ikebukuro, she and her friends commandeer an out-of-commission train in the hopes of reaching Yoka.

This anime touches on a lot of popular tropes, but in a way that plays with expectations. The series is indeed about Cute Girls Doing a Thing—in this case riding a train through Japan—but it can hardly be called “slice of life” because there is a lot of narrative momentum. It follows in the trend of post-apocalypse and travelog series like Girls’ Last Tour and Kino’s Journey, but it’s less about the ennui of the environment and more about exploring a strange new world. The fact that it’s done via commuter rail and with girls whose relationships carry different degrees of baggage pushes the story away from the quiet gravitas such works often exude and into something more personal. Plenty of titles (especially from the studio P.A. Works) highlight less famous parts of Japan, but they don’t typically present them as Escher-like warpings of reality. I think the closest series might be Rolling Girls, but even that series’s brand of fantastical is very different.

What’s more, Train to the End of the World takes all these somewhat contradictory directions and ties them all together in a satisfying manner. This kind of creativity is actually something I was hopeful about when I first heard about the series, particularly because Mizushima Tsutomu was at the helm. As the director of both SHIROBAKO and Girls und Panzer, he’s proven ability to tell remarkably involved stories that marry a lot of disparate energies together. While Train to the End of the World isn’t my favorite of the three, I feel like it might be the most impressive of them from a storytelling perspective. 

I encourage the skeptical to give it a chance.

Miki Kinemi and the Electrifying Characters of Blue Period

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I’ve been catching up on the English releases of the Blue Period manga, and I’ve come to a few realizations.

I Really Like Miki Kinemi

Miki first appears while Yatora is taking the Tokyo University of the Arts entrance exam, and her design stood out to me. Her stocky frame and soft features left a lasting impression on me, and I hoped she would become a recurring character. I’m glad my wish turned out to be true.

Miki’s positive personality and enthusiasm for painting, the way she wears her heart on her sleeve, and the way she tries to take on others’ burdens (sometimes to her own detriment) make for an endearing character. Her body type is also a rarity in manga, and I’m very impressed by the author, Yamaguchi Tsubasa, and her ability to draw Miki so well. I’m a real fan—of both Yamaguchi and Miki.

Actually, They’re All Really Attractive 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that pretty much all the characters in Blue Period are charming in their own way. Girls, guys, gender nonconforming, they all exhibit a real spark of life that is facilitated by their respective visual designs but also goes beyond their appearance. They’re not attractive simply because they have XYZ physical and personality features but because they feel very human—beautiful and ugly and trying to navigate the world with the tools they have. Some of those tools are the result of their own work, but some have been forced upon them.

When I see a character show up again, I can get a tingle in my spine.

When you get them to bounce off one another, it’s like magic. Or art. One of my favorite things in manga is seeing really deep and dynamic character interaction, and Blue Period has this in spades. The subject matter probably helps, as these artists (from veterans to beginners) are look within while also peering into the souls of others for the sake of their work, or they try to run away and inadvertently do so anyway.

Is Blue Period Now One of My Favorite Manga?

I’ve thought highly of it for a long time, but now I like it even more. So yes, probably.

Bringing the Band Back Together: Sound! Euphonium 3

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Sound! Euphonium 3 concludes a nine-year journey that follows the students of the Kitauji High School Music Club through the drama of high school and band competition. Taken in isolation, this season feels like the end of an era. Factoring in the tragedies that the studio Kyoto Animation has gone through, it’s one of the greatest victories ever.

Euphonium player Oumae Kumiko and her friends are now the seniors, and have thus gone from newbies to leaders. For Kumiko, that’s more than literal; she’s now the president. They’ve seen the club go from recreational to competitive, and they have one more chance to earn what has eluded them the past two years: gold at nationals. But a few challenges lie ahead, like trying to guide the club as its veterans, and figuring out what their respective futures in music (if any) looks like. Kumiko also meets a transfer student named Mayu who’s a euphonium player herself, and she has to think about the degree to which this final year is meant to be her own time in the spotlight or Kitauiji’s. 

Can the club hold together and win nationals, or will it fall apart before even making it back?

In preparation for this review, I read through my old posts about Sound! Euphonium. Seeing where Season 3 begins in comparison really highlights the fact that these characters have each gone on their own journeys while part of a greater overall adventure. Kumiko now sees herself as a euphonium player through and through, and her previous ambivalence about music has made way for a different type of ambivalence focused more on what comes next. Trumpeter Kousaka Reina has gone from upstart prodigy to the central pillar of the club, where her unmatched skill, no-nonsense attitude, and unwavering dedication to music positions her as an intimidating yet inspiring upperclassman. Kawashima “Midori” Sapphire has become the gentle but firm mentor to a fellow contrabass player. And Katou Hazuki, who had joined the club on a lark and with no musical experience, can now play the tuba with consistent confidence. They can all display genuine skill with their instruments now, despite how differently they began.

Being the veterans also means new obstacles. One is the fact that the first-years did not go through the fires of change with their teacher, Taki-sensei, and don’t understand why the older members revere him. Another is that Kumiko and the others have managed to rehabilitate the school’s reputation to the point that some students enroll specifically to join the music club, and so many already have entrenched ideas of what to expect. With the main cast as the seniors, they’re now in a place where they are the most mature people in the room. 

At the same time, the third year of high school in Japan also traditionally marks the end of immaturity. Kumiko struggles with envisioning her future, which is made all the more difficult by the fact that Reina is ready to dedicate the rest of her life to reaching greater heights in music. The previous club leaders can seem like giants who had it all figured out, so why does it seem so different now? The transition from childhood to adulthood underlies this final season. It feels genuine, and I find myself reminiscing a bit about what it was like.

Five years have passed since I last watched any Sound! Euphonium, so it’s hard for me to directly compare this concluding season with the previous entries. Even so, I think it holds up to my memories of the anime and as a work unto itself. But when you’re aware of the catastrophes that Kyoto Animation faced—namely an arson attack that claimed the lives of over 30 people and injured dozens of others as well, and then COVID-19—Sound! Euphonium 3 is a true triumph for everyone involved. The fact that they had such devastating setbacks and managed to pull off a final season that looks and feels so satisfying really speaks to how great KyoAni is at spreading institutional knowledge and making sure it’s not just the veterans who hoard all the glory. When it comes to both the Kitauji High School Music Club and Kyoto Animation, understanding the importance of passing the torch is paramount.

Rivalry at Its Finest—Haikyu!!: The Dumpster Battle

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In a sports anime where relationships on the court are centrally important, the defining team rivalry of Haikyu! is undoubtedly Karasuno vs. Nekoma. In Haikyu!! The Dumpster Battle, it all comes to a head as the two face off in the big inter-high tournament.

While the high-flying Hinata Shoyo is generally the star of the series, this movie feels like one where his friend and longest rival, Nekoma’s setter Kozume Kenma, is the actual main character. A significant amount of time is spent exploring his history and inner world, elaborating on how he started playing volleyball, and what has kept him in the sport despite his dislike of physical exertion. It’s because the film is basically an adaptation of a small chunk of the manga, but I appreciate that its story can be told in a way that really shines the spotlight on Kenma and adds a new perspective on his relationship with Hinata, as well as with Kenma’s own teammates.

The two schools are set up as equal but opposite forces. The Karasuno duo are the high-flying spiker Hinata and the technical setter Kageyama, while Nekoma’s main pair consists of the quietly analytical setter Kenma and the psychology-oriented Kuroo. Whereas Karasuno focuses on heavy aerial offense meant to overwhelm, Nekoma stays primarily grounded and defensive, strategically picking apart opponents. It’s a little on-the-nose, with the whole “ravens vs. cats” imagery, but there’s nothing wrong with that if it’s executed well.

What I especially like about this film is the fact that it’s all about a single match, and the majority of it is spent in competition. It reminds me of the Girls und Panzer films, which also take the time to depict long, drawn-out battles where two sides try to outwit and trap each other. Production I.G. goes out of its way to make the volleyball look amazing, even sometimes making it feel like you’re right there on the court.

Despite obviously being meant for people who have been watching Haikyu!! from the start, I actually think a non-fan could come into this pretty easily. They might assume that Kenma is the protagonist, and might not get all the running gags, but The Dumpster Battle is just a fine piece of sports fiction that just also happens to include lots of handsome dudes.

Checking out Holostars: Vanguard Debuts and Movin’ On

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Over the past month, there have been a number of events for Holostars, the men’s side of hololive. While I don’t usually watch them often, I decided to check out both the Tempus Vanguard 3D debuts, as well as the Holostars JP 5th anniversary concert, Movin’ On. While the boys get only a fraction of the attention that the girls do, it’s become clear to me that this discrepancy has little to do with a lack of talent.

Holostars Popularity

I think the massive success of the hololive girls can skew people’s perspectives when it comes to how well the guys are doing. Holostars members have subscriber counts that are sometimes an order of magnitude smaller than their female counterparts, but this is comparing 100 thousand to 1 million—they’re still in the upper echelons of both VTubers and online content creators. I don’t pretend to know what makes anything become enormously popular, but they’ve all garnered sizable fanbases in their own ways. I wonder if the disparity just has to do with how girls are more often willing to watch stuff made for guys, but the reverse doesn’t happen as much.

Tempus Vanguard 3D

3D debuts/showcases are one-time events in the hololive world, and so they naturally attract curious passersby like myself. They also give new insight on figures who were basically only talking heads, with the added benefit that these special streams are built entirely around putting the VTuber’s skills and personality on display. Tempus Vanguard is no exception. Bettel’s buffoonery has extra nuance when you can see him physically clowning around (and getting clowned on). Flayon is surprisingly athletic, which makes him seem even more animated than normal. Hakka’s powerful singing was obvious even in 2D, but getting to see his physical expressions only adds to his performance. Shinri’s willingness to go a bit “out-of-character” for his song selections makes him even more masculine.

Movin’ On

For the Movin’ On concert, I followed Kureiji Ollie’s stream VOD so that she and her watchalong crew could fill in the gaps a little. These events are often culmination points for talents and their fandoms rather than neutral evaluations of their abilities, and I knew that I was lacking the right context in basically all cases. Together with Area 15, Baelz Hakos, and the live audience, I got a somewhat better understanding of the relationship each Holostars member has with their respective followers. 

Just like with the hololive girls, though, there are some individuals who can really command the stage. Minase Rio’s singing is beautiful. Roberu carries his jovial charisma from his chatting streams to his performances. Astel Leda has undeniable star power, combining a versatile voice with serious dance skills.

Overall, it’s just good to see everyone in Holostars provide a good time for their fans, be it through thrilling stage performances or as a comforting respite from the world. Maybe someday, we’ll get to see the EN and JP branches together at the annual hololive fes in their own concert (as opposed to a fun karaoke session), or even together with the female talents. Whatever the future holds, I’d like to see them succeed on their own terms.

Movin’ On is still available for a limited time as a VOD costing 6,500 yen.

Revisiting “The Transformers: The Movie”

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The 1980s Transformers movie looms large in my memory. I can still feel a part of me reacting to moments I first saw when I was maybe five years old, watching a VHS recording at a neighbor’s place. But I hadn’t experienced the full film itself in a very long time, only sometimes revisiting iconic moments on YouTube, and I wondered how I would view it through the eyes of someone well past childhood. 

There are a few things I’ve come to realize by watching The Transformers: The Movie again. Namely, I can see even more clearly why it was such a cultural touchstone for the young fans, and why it was so confusing and strange for adults. To the parents, film critics, and other older folks, Transformers likely spoke in a visual language that was disorienting and didn’t bother to differentiate characters in ways that made sense. 

But the kids, including myself, were essentially raised on the kind of collect ’em all mentality that involved different color schemes for boxy robots. Certainly, collectible toys existed in the past, but this was a post-He-Man world, where the sheer variety of action figures were tied to unique personalities that kids could know and love (or hate). Much has been written about how the death of the heroic leader Optimus Prime was a turning point/moment of trauma for a lot of children. 

Younger people reading this might wonder why this was a big deal beyond the obvious pain of having a fan favorite pass, but the key thing to know and remember is that death was unheard of in cartoons of the 1980s. No one ever got permanently hurt, lasers and guns would blow up vehicles but never people, and each episode’s ending reset to a status quo so that shows could go on forever, or even run episodes out of order if need be. What makes this all the more astounding is that the decision to kill off Optimus—and a large chunk of the cast—was the result of a cynical decision to make way for new toys to sell. The people in charge thought that the children saw Transformers as playthings, only to realize that they had introduced fascinating personalities and role models to which those kids could get attached. Even if the catalyst was simple capitalism, the result was an awareness of the power of fiction. 

One thing I realized anew is how the relationship between Starscream, Megatron, and Unicron plays out. Throughout the original Transformers TV cartoon, Starscream is a conniving soldier whose ambition is to overthrow Megatron and take over as leader of the Deceptions. He also never truly succeeds because he’s a coward who jumps the gun at the slightest sign of weakness, only to have it all backfire. On top of that, Megatron is simply more powerful than him, and he can’t hope to actually win in a fight. 

But when Starscream sends a weakened Megatron to his death, and the latter is exposed to a being far beyond him in the form of Unicron, it becomes clear just how very similar Starscream and Megatron are. Much like Starscream, the normally arrogant Megatron is quick to capitulate when threatened with real harm, but is also just as opportunistic—working towards betraying his new master by trying to obtain the Matrix, the only thing that Unicron fears. The only difference is that Megatron is more patient.

Another takeaway: The movie is basically a series of incredible vignettes kind of sloppily stitched together. The story as a whole is about passing the torch and discovering your potential, and individual scenes have some of the most impressive animation of all time, but the whole thing often feels loose and disconnected. It’s why watching clips of the high points on YouTube or whatever is so effective. Moments like the deadly battle between Optimus and Megatron, the Decepticon leader’s transformation into Galvatron, and the moment when Hot Rod fulfills his destiny with the Autobot Matrix of Leadership never fail to give me goosebumps. The weaker parts I can safely file away in the recesses of my memory. 

If you speak the “language” of Transformers and the kind of merchandising that is its legacy, everything about this movie makes sense. If not, then it all falls apart. I’m curious as to how newer generations of viewers—especially more recent Transformers fans—view this work. It’s a classic in my nostalgia-filled eyes, and I acknowledge all the ups and downs that come with such a perspective.

The Psychological Price of Distance—Gundam Reconguista in G Part IV: The Love That Cries Out in Battle

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It’s been over two years since my last review of a Gundam Reconguista in G movie. In Part IV: The Love That Cries Out in Battle, the series continues to gain new life as a more cohesive work compared to the original TV series.

G-Reco is about a world centuries after the Universal Century era of the original Gundam. Humanity has crawled back from the brink of extinction, leading to a ban on the old UC technologies and a rationing of energy. However, conflicts still remain, and people are cut into various factions. 

At the end of Part III, protagonist Bellri Zenam inadvertently activates the Crescent-Moon Ship, a space-faring vessel that’s meant to lead them to Venus Globe, where the batteries that are meant to provide power to Earth. However, right as Part IV begins, Bellri and those traveling with him are confronted by a group from the G-IT Laboratory, a technology research facility that views the war-prone Earth-born with disdain, and wants to take both the Crescent-Moon Ship and Bellri’s mobile suit, the G-Self, for their own. From there, the film continues and amplifies many of the trends of the previous film, like the importance of understanding individual characters’ motivations, as well as the ways that people’s environments can affect their views on society and civilization. It sees the furthest reaches of humankind before drawing the characters back towards Earth and juxtaposing all these different ways of thinking.

A recurring lesson emphasized throughout is that people can have different blindspots depending on their proximity to Earth and its issues:

  • The character Aida Surugan (newly discovered to be Bellri’s sister, to his chagrin) questions why energy has to be rationed when so many people suffer, but other characters point out that she’s been affected by “Amerian” indoctrination that fetishizes “freedom.” 
  • The mobile suit pilots of the G-IT Laboratory are quick to judge those from Earth for their legacy of war and death, but they also imagine themselves as glorious fighters who just haven’t had the chance to really show their stuff, and they incorrectly assume that the weapons they wield indiscriminately won’t cause the same problems. (Their similarity to Gym Ghingham in Turn A Gundam is probably no coincidence). 
  • The inhabitants of Venus Globe appear to live in peace while faithfully honoring the heights of Earth’s civilization, but they are largely ignorant of what happens on Earth, and their abundant luxury masks greater health issues that come with both living in space and seeing themselves as the far-off arbiters of Earth’s ability to sustain itself. 
  • Capital Army leader Cumpa Rusita (the closest thing the series has to a main antagonist) is motivated by his disgust at the physical deterioration of the space-born, and this has led him into being a Social Darwinist who believes conflict is the key to restoring humanity’s greatness. 

It’s as if the goal of G-Reco is to highlight how people often think that they now see the big picture, but their perspective is far more narrow than they realize. Or even if they don’t miss the forest for the trees, their failure to also account for the trees is in itself a flaw. 

I think I give the impression that G-Reco and this film in particular are very serious with all the political and speculative philosophizing, but the series can also be refreshingly lighthearted at times. There are many scenes devoted to daily or mundane activities, like running to sweat out any toxins that come from space travel, or stepping on a robotic scale to check weight. Noredo Nug and Manny Ambassada have an almost “Scooby and Shaggy”-like presence with their antics that’s more understandable rather than annoying. All this actually adds a lot to conveying the idea that these are individuals with lives of their own, and adds a touch of joy to the worldbuilding of this series.

As for Bellri, he seems to embody both the silly and the serious, which might be why he’s the main character. In the same movie, you see him continuously calming his libido by remembering that the girl he’s into is actually his flesh-and-blood sister, and then showing incredible frustration at how many of the people he fights can’t see beyond their own nose. When he uses a new weapon to try and slow down conflict only to unleash a never-before-seen power that leaves all sides horrified and bewildered, Bellri immediately reacts with genuine disgust. 

With the original G-Reco TV series, a good part of my overall positive review of the series had to do with how the last few episodes play out. The final film, Part V, is next—I get the feeling I’m going to enjoy this finale even more.

Back to Basics: The Blue Beetle Film

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On a whim, I decided to watch the recent superhero movie, Blue Beetle. I’ve been feeling a little burned out by the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so I figured I’d try something from DC. It also stars Xolo Maridueña (who I’ve enjoyed in Cobra Kai) as the main hero, Jaime Reyes.

The basic structure of the movie is standard hero-origin fare, but at the very least, it ends up being better than a lot of the recent Marvel stuff. I think where Blue Beetle succeeds (and where the MCU increasingly fails) is that it feels very human and doesn’t get lost in the weeds of a “superhero universe” or its tropes. In the case of Blue Beetle, the emphasis on Jaime’s Latin American background is what holds the entire film together. 

Jaime’s family is Mexican, and they are shaped by both the struggles and triumphs they’ve had to face making a life in the US, ranging from some members being undocumented immigrants, to enduring years of backbreaking labor, to a rather surprising detail about his doting old grandma. Blue Beetle asks how a person like Jaime, the very first member of his family to graduate from college, gains a lot of his strength from his upbringing and the values of his culture. The generational and cultural gap felt by Jaime as a first-generation American feels very authentic. And all through this, the story of the Reyes family delivers a complex message about what it’s like to aim for the American dream in an America that doesn’t see you as equal.

Blue Beetle isn’t spectacular, but it’s still a pretty entertaining feature with some solid legs. It frames the superhero aspects of its story through an exploration of a multigenerational immigrant experience, and manages to cross a finish line that many of its peers have been unable to reach.