Category Archives: review

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.

Bringing the Heat to Prime Time—Firefighter Daigo: Rescuer in Orange

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Cop-themed media is ubiquitous, but firefighter stories are far less common—maybe it’s the lack of “bad guys.” But here comes Firefighter Daigo: Rescuer in Orange, an anime that’s not only about dealing with fires and other hazards, but is actually a sequel to a popular 90s series. 

The original Firefighter! Daigo of Fire Company M by author Soda Masahito was a successful manga in Japan, running for an impressive 20 volumes. Over in the US, I remember seeing ads for the original Firefighter Daigo manga back in the 2000s, but it never really got any traction. My primary exposure to author Soda Masahito’s work has been through some of his shorter manga such as the schoolgirl rap battle series Change! and the MMA-themed Hanakaku. In both cases, they were clearly (and disappointingly) made to end early, so it’s interesting to see Soda return to the world of his biggest hit not named Capeta.

The sequel does not require prior knowledge of the first series—the only anime ever created for it is a decades-old film. Taking place many years after the first series, Firefighter Daigo: RiO follows three recent recruits as they go through the rigorous process of becoming rescuers and then beyond. The first is Toake Daigo, a taciturn wunderkind who has a preternatural knack for dealing with dangerous situations. The second is Onoda Shun, an intense guy who’s the exposition hype man, kind of a Vegeta, and a hardworking guy in his own right. The third is Nakamura Yuki, Shun’s former high school classmate, who possesses keen observation skills and a literal lifelong dedication to joining the fire department. As they go through their respective paths towards being full-fledged rescue workers, their links to one another run deeper than they realize.

Daigo and Shun are clearly meant to both parallel and contrast with the original duo from the first series, Asahina Daigo and Gomi Shunsuke. Asahina is the loud and brash one while Gomi is the serious kind, whereas their spiritual successors have “swapped” personalities. Yuki can come across as “Firefighter Daigo: Now with Girl,” but they develop her as a unique character and a worthy peer in her own right.

Firefighter Daigo: RiO is mainstream in a way few anime ever are. On top of the approachable subject matter (“firefighters saving people from danger and going through personal drama!”) and the lack of more otaku-oriented tropes, the series also aired during Japanese primetime hours. The result is that it has some of the highest TV ratings of winter 2024, just below the perennial favorites like Sazae-san and on par with the runaway hit that is Frieren. It feels almost tailor-made to do well, like it’d run alongside Law & Order.

Episodes typically highlight the extensive training and preparation of firefighters and rescue workers but also the reality that they can never anticipate everything—improvisation and a cool head under pressure are both necessary. No one embodies this spirit more perfectly than Toake Daigo himself—seemingly too perfectly, at first. He’ll do what others would never think of, and his peers can’t help but watch (and comment) in awe as he pulls off another miracle. But over time, it becomes clear that this intense dedication hides deeper wounds from his past, and that this seeming flawlessness is anything but. Rescuer in Orange does a great job of putting the human in superhuman, not least of which is because Daigo himself sees his peers as better than himself.

It’s a very normal show, until it isn’t. As Kate from Reverse Thieves points out, you think it’s just a normal human drama…and then you find out that the original Daigo has been traveling the world rescuing people like some kind of vigilante firefighter. On top of that, the original Shun has separately been building up a clandestine elite firefighting force to prepare for some impending mega disaster.

The only recurring issue that I think really detracts from the show is that the animation can get pretty sloppy, and a lot of each episode is taken up by a recap; a 22-minute show is more like 18.

Firefighter Daigo: Rescuer in Orange is very cool in a normal way. Its characters are compelling in a normal way. It feels so very conventional most of the time, but will occasionally throw a curveball that really shows how well constructed the series really is. It’s the kind of show that would make for a great gateway anime. I hope that it can accomplish this goal, not only for anime in general but for Soda Masahito’s other works.

A Titanic Tag Team in Every Sense—Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire

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For almost as long as Godzilla has existed in fiction, there have been essentially two versions of the giant reptile. The first is “Godzilla as force of nature and reflection of human folly,” most recently seen in the Oscar-winning Godzilla Minus One. The second is “Godzilla as defender of the Earth.” That’s the space occupied by the sequel to Godzilla vs. Kong—Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire. The resulting film is one I found incredibly satisfying for what it aims to be, which is a crossover film that treats its monsters as the actual stars.

Godzilla x Kong takes place a few years after lizard and ape’s victory over Mechagodzilla in the previous film. King Kong now resides in Hollow Earth, looking for any signs of other giant apes. Godzilla remains on the surface, fighting titanic threats that are trying to encroach on their territory. When possible evidence of Kong’s species turns out to be tied to a potential threat to both parts of Earth, both he and Godzilla set into motion to do something about it.

The big thing about this film is that it presents its iconic monsters as legitimate central characters. Godzilla x Kong not only tells a story centered around the monsters, it highlights how different they are in terms of their relationship with humanity. King Kong would rather avoid harming humans. Godzilla doesn’t actively try to kill humans, but if they need to swim through a busy bridge and take out a few dozen occupied vehicles in the process, oh well. The two behemoths are not terribly fond of each other, but sometimes there are bigger fish to fry.

The human stories, meanwhile, are decent enough without overshadowing Godzilla or Kong. 

This movie’s monstrous antagonist (because you know there has to be one) is interesting in a lot of ways, firstly because they’re 1) an all-new character, and 2) Kong-centric. It’s all too easy for films featuring Godzilla to tap into their extensive rogue’s gallery—they could reasonably never make anything original and still never run out of adversaries. In contrast, King Kong doesn’t really have archenemies because that’s never really been a thing in the character’s stories. Secondly, this monster is less about brute force or overpowering his foes, and is more of a conniving despot who uses pain and fear as tools for control. It’s a lot more than what I expected from Godzilla x Kong, and reminds me of some of the best pro wrestling heels.

I decided to look at online reactions to the villain, and I was surprised to see a good number of people were disappointed. This was a realization that when it comes to MonsterVerse baddies, a decent chunk of fans want a Brock Lesnar (an unstoppable wrecking machine) instead of a Ric Flair (an underhanded schemer who exploits others).

Overall, I got everything I wanted from this movie, and then some. If you want something movingly artistic with amazing actors, Godzilla Minus One is right there. If you want a story about gargantuan beasts pummeling one another while still carrying lots of personality, Godzilla x Kong hits the spot like few things can. I’d actually love to see the two get released in theaters as a double feature, so audiences can experience both sides of the big green G and come away enlightened. 

A Hot Spring Inn in Ogiue’s Home Prefecture: Meigetsuso

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On my trip to Japan last year, I stayed briefly at Meigetsuso, a hot spring ryoukan located in the city of Kaminoyama in Yamagata Prefecture. The reason I picked Yamagata is that it’s Ogiue’s home prefecture. No, really—I specifically started with “I want to visit where my favorite character is from,” and worked backwards. Based on that, as well as availability, I landed on Meigetsuso, which translates roughly to “Tomorrow’s Moon Inn.”

A ryoukan, or Japanese-style inn, embodies the notion of “traditional Japanese aesthetics,” between the paper-screen doors, the tatami mats, and the traditional cuisine. It provides the sort of experience one typically doesn’t get as a foreigner otaku who’s prioritizing anime and manga, but I’ve found that on the rare occasion that I get to stay at a ryoukan (particularly if it’s attached to a hot spring!), the experience is worthwhile. And by taking the effort to neither essentialize or exoticize the culture, I believe I can comfortably appreciate the way these inns give their guests the red-carpet treatment, so to speak.

I arrived in the city via shinkansen on a snowy winter day after eating a special Tohoku-themed train bentou. While public transportation can get close to the inn, I decided to travel by foot in order to explore the area a bit.

One fun find was a small anime store called Himitsu Kichi, or “Secret Base.” It was charming in a way that reminds me more of a humble local comic book shop back home, the kind that’s far less prevalent today. The most prominent series at Himitsu Kichi was definitely Laid-Back Camp, and a Love Live! Nozomi tapestry greeted me at the entrance. I bought a button featuring Kaminoyama An, a character who represents the region in the Onsen Musume franchise.

After some time traversing uphill, I eventually made it to Meigetsuso, which was a little ways up the mountain. It wasn’t an ultra-challenging climb or anything, but my legs definitely got a workout. 

The Meigetsuso building itself is gorgeous both inside and out. It did indeed look a lot like my animes, but even setting aside the associations with tradition and all that, I couldn’t help but be in awe at how relaxing it felt just to walk around. The room itself was similarly beautiful and pleasant, and the hot spring was naturally amazing to the point of being downright addictive. I don’t know if any of the purported healing properties of hot springs are real, but I definitely felt better after jumping in one.

There was a room called the Sasa room (written with the same kanji as “Sasahara.”) Naturally, I had to take a picture of it with Ogiue.

The staff treated me like a VIP, and while it cost a pretty penny to get that luxury (more on that later), I can’t deny that I got my money’s worth. Most of them did not speak English, but a combination of my relative fluency in Japanese and their occasional use of translation apps helped smooth things over. I suspect that for those who don’t know any Japanese, that app ends up getting a lot more work.

As for food (aka one of my favorite subjects), I loved the fact that much of what they serve is either local dishes or made from local ingredients.

Upon settling in the room, the attendant served a small set of assorted snacks that included fruit, jelly, their own house-made senbei rice crackers, and other things I didn’t entirely recognize. Nothing was super sweet (as expected of Japanese food), but it was all quite pleasant.

There was also a large pot of conjac jelly balls available in a lounge area through the afternoon, with a side of spicy mustard also available. It was actually my first time having conjac, and it turns out that I’m quite a fan of its gelatinous texture. If I didn’t have a large meal that evening, I probably would have kept eating them!

That dinner was kaiseki, a type of dinner with multiple courses of small servings, and one of the fancier ways to eat in Japan. The only times I’ve had them is at ryoukan, where it was included with the cost, and part of what makes them a good deal if you can afford to stay in the first place. It was a wonderful experience that included some of the best steak I ever had, fresh sashimi, a unique form of wide udon noodles, and even my first time eating fugu! In the last case, a part of me was worried about the whole lethal poison thing, but here I am, alive.

Rice is apparently a source of regional pride in Yamagata, and dinner came with their most famous breed: Tsuyahime, which had a chewy texture and a subtle sweetness that really stood out to me. It was one of the last parts of dinner, after I was absolutely stuffed, but they offered to make the leftovers into rice balls for snacking at a later time. I happily obliged. 

The morning brought a breakfast that also consisted of many small dishes, such as a burdock root dipping sauce for vegetables, rolled omelets, grilled fish, and Yukiwakamru rice (instead of Tsuyahime). The rice could be served as a plain bowl or as a porridge, but you can (and I did) ask for both. This one is apparently famous for being popular with people who just like to eat heaping helpings of rice unadorned, and I’m inclined to agree. 

All in all, I was the proud owner of a very satisfied belly.

I won’t deny that this was a very pricey excursion, and that for many, including myself, it’s definitely something you need to save up for. Even so, the quality of service and the blissful atmosphere provided is really worthwhile for how much it costs. Meigetsuso ended up being less expensive compared to a similarly luxurious resort or hotel. The currently strong dollar to yen ratio also helped tremendously, but even if that weren’t the case, I think Meigetsuso was a fantastic place to stay and even come back to. The only reason I wouldn’t return is because I don’t make trips to Japan often, so I might want to share the love elsewhere. But if I did live in Japan, I could see myself making annual trips to Kaminoyama to enjoy their hospitality.

Crawling Through the Dark: End of Evangelion

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In March, I went to a screening of End of Evangelion. While it wasn’t my first time seeing the movie, it had also been many years, and this was actually the first time EoE had been released in theaters in North America, courtesy of GKids. 

Evangelion as a whole is a major part of my history as an anime fan, culminating with the Shin Evangelion movie. But two decades ago, End of Evangelion was one of those works that blew apart my preconceived notions about what animation could do. The emotional turmoil, the horrifying spectacle, and the beautiful animation all worked together to leave a lasting impact on my psyche. 

It’s interesting to have again seen this film in full, now with the context of my own lived experience and where Evangelion has gone since then.

End of Evangelion is a sort of alternate version of the last two episodes of the TV series. Rather than taking place purely in an abstract world consisting of the collective minds and souls of its characters, things are based more in the physical world. After NERV defeats the last of the Angels, its secretive parent organization SEELE betrays NERV, and the ensuing carnage sends its already traumatized heroes spiraling down even further.

Ikari Shinji has long been the poster child for angsty teen protagonists, and it’s easy to see here why he could be both a very relatable character and an endless source of aggravation for viewers. As the people on his side and close to him are literally gunned down in cold blood, Shinji is unable to act. It makes me want to shout, “Get out of your own head, damn it!” And that admonishment more or less happens in the movie itself. But Shinji’s perspective is also one that hits close to home: He’s screwed up so many times that he thinks doing nothing is literally better than trying at all and inevitably making things worse. When you only see yourself as a source of failure and disappointment, it can be hard to take even a single step forward.

But when Rei initiates Third Impact, the apocalyptic event that’s meant to bring everyone’s souls together and reform humanity as the single entity it began as, Shinji does something surprising: He rejects this future that would ostensibly solve all his problems with human connection. It turns out that Shinji isn’t satisfied with a happiness that is handed to him, even if it would be a realm of sheer bliss. He wants to achieve self worth by going out there and finding it himself. The process itself, and the authenticity of the success, is paramount. It’s not so much that reality is about suffering, but more like telling someone who’s trying to plant a flower (and is incredibly bad at gardening) that you can just buy them an entire field of flowers that’ll be tended by the world’s best botanists. 

The ending scene is one of many scenes that have long generated discourse, and thinking about it from the perspective of dreams vs. reality has me reconsidering its outcome. In the aftermath of the Third Impact (or at least its attempt), Shinji finds himself alone with Asuka. Seeing her lying prone, Shinji starts to strangle her, repeating an earlier “action” he took while being confronted in his mind about the way he desperately tries to avoid loneliness. But to his surprise, Asuka’s hands gently brush against his face, and this causes Shinji to let go. Asuka then says, “Disgusting.”

I see Shinji’s actions as indicative of him doubting that he’s out of the dream-like Third Impact, only to be thrown off by Asuka being very different from what he saw in his own mind. The compassion and disdain are both there, beauty and ugliness all mixed together. Reality is where dreams end, but it’s also fueled by those same dreams. It’s a messy world where Shinji can once again try to make a genuine connection, even if they’re the last two people on Earth.

To me, the essential difference between End of Evangelion and Shin Evangelion has to do with their relationship with depression. EoE is what you get when you’re caught up in it and are trying to provide hope that there’s a way out. Shin Evangelion is the result of someone who managed to overcome that depression and can tell you the other side is real. 

I’m glad Anno found his light.

Old-School Noodle Goodness: Kanda Yabu Soba

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While in Japan last winter, I decided to check out one of the oldest soba shops in Tokyo, Kanda Yabu Soba. The restaurant dates all the way back to 1880, during the Edo period, and comes from a time when soba got famous as a fast food for busy people.

To my surprise, my group managed to get in. While the wait was somewhat long—around 30 minutes—it was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting for a restaurant with its reputation. When our number was called, we sat down at one of the traditional floor spots (as opposed to having western-style chairs), and I ordered seirou soba: a plain buckwheat noodle, served hot with a thin dipping sauce. 

It was literally the best soba I’d ever eaten. The noodles were simple but satisfying with a fresh buckwheat taste with lots of depth, and the restaurant also offered hot water at the end that you could mix with your remaining dipping sauce to create a nice after-meal broth. Not only that, but it was very affordable, not even factoring in a strong dollar to yen exchange rate.

Japan is a land of genuinely good food at reasonable prices, and Kanda Yabu Soba is a prime example. While this value is most apparent in the many convenience stores that dot the country, what’s truly mind blowing to me is that even a nationally renowned, 144-year-old restaurant would still be so accessible budget-wise. But even putting aside such a long-lived establishment, I find that the US, by comparison, suffers from high rent, the cost of real estate, and the segregation of communities due to the prevalence of car culture. These factors make it almost impossible for niche restaurants to get off the ground and remain reasonably priced. 

My only regret about going to Kanda Yabu Soba is that I didn’t have the opportunity to try more than the basic. It was excellent, of course, but now that I’ve had the seirou soba, I want to try their more elaborate options (like the one with duck!). That’ll hopefully be for next time, if I happen to be in the area again. 

Bara Bara Obari: Bang Brave Bang Bravern

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Bang Brave Bang Bravern is like an anime that has traveled through time to reach us in 2024, but it’s not clear whether it came from the past or the future.

The show’s creator, Obari Masami, is near-synonymous with mecha. He’s been involved since the 1980s with works like Dancouga and Gravion, he’s the reason the Brave Pose exists, and they even bring him in to animate giant robot parodies in other genres. So when he announced a new series in the form of Bravern, I wondered what form it would take, especially with him as director and mecha designer. 

The answer is: one filled with shocking twists that are as baffling as they are exciting. This is very much intentional, as the initial promo material and even most of the first episode has you believing that Bang Bravern is on the grittier side, with mecha as weapons of war. The first meeting between its central characters, Japanese soldier Ao Isami and American soldier Lewis Smith, seemingly portends a story about true camaraderie on the battlefield.

Then everything goes into Obari Overdrive. A shiny red robot shows up, literally shouting all his special attacks with a sincere level of camp. This namesake, Bravern, is a heroic sort who draws a lot from the Brave franchise, especially the bonding of kid and robot that is a hallmark of those anime. Only, Isami is a grown man instead of a wide-eyed grade schooler and reacts with a mix of awe and horror. The arrival of Bravern then kicks off a culture clash between the serious original setting and its brightly colored new reality that leaves everyone perplexed and hesitantly hopeful in the face of imminent doom.

During all this, we’re treated to the opening and then ending themes. The former is a blood-pumping super robot song that draws from the genre’s collective past, with shades of Godannar, Gaogaigar, Daiohja, and even Space Battleship Yamato. The latter features Isami and Smith in the rain, slowly undressing themselves as they sing dramatically like they’re starring in a musical. Together, these two songs encapsulate much of what Bravern is about.

And that’s only the first two episodes! 

At least one shocking revelation or pivotal moment hits every episode, in a manner reminiscent of both Gurren-Lagann and Samurai Flamenco. The stakes keep escalating in wonderfully outlandish ways so frequently that Brang Bravern feels like 52 episodes got condensed into 12. The result is a show that leaves little breathing room for major moments, but also appears to act as an acknowledgement that giant robot anime comes from a time when year-long shows were the norm—and that such an era has long since passed.

With its muscular and passionate men in a setting that’s normally about masculine bravado, Bang Bravern might give the impression that it’s queerbaiting. In reality, it’s not really a bait: The show is very gay. At the same time, it feels very different from a lot of other works in that territory. For one thing, the attractive guys are also surrounded by attractive girls and attractive mecha, making it a smorgasbord of hotness all around. And amidst all this cheesecake and beefcake, the story told by Bang Bravern cuts to the heart of living up to childhood ideals.

This isn’t really plot spoilers, but the final episode plays the opening but with added sound effects like explosions and clanking sounds. This is a reference to the fact that many giant robot anime of yesteryear would at some point change their openings to include similar SFX. I think that says a lot about the spirit of Bang Brave Bang Bravern.