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Madoka Magica is effectively a slasher series in magical girl clothes. The standard tropes are there: prominent decoy heroine that gets killed early on, the PG rated version of "girl has sex, then dies" (here, it's unrequited love, but the punitive implication still remains), the pure, virginal girl who survives to the end. At the time it came out, it caused significant controversy in the anime fandom for being hyped as a "magical girl series for adults," with many being shocked that a magical girl show could be so violent.

This perception is, of course, a stereotype. Those who have seen Sailor Moon, especially the original ... manga, know that Naoko Takeuchi doesn't pull her punches, often being more brutal in killing off characters than many shonen series. Despite Sailor Moon popularly being known as a girly girly Barbie show with a positive, optimistic conclusion, there's a lot of horrifying and violent stuff in there, and for a lot of us growing up, that was the appeal. But despite the long-debated question of where Madoka fits in the magical girl panthenon, the more interesting comparison is how well it measures up as a slasher story, another frequently stereotyped genre.

One scene that always bothered me was the way Madoka reacts to the horrifying reveal that all of them, including her friend Sayaka, effectively gave up their souls to become magical girls. Sayaka refuses to open up about her grief. Madoka ineffectually pleads her to do so, but does nothing more than that, and, well, you can probably see where Sayaka's isolation is headed. It strains suspension of disbelief that a girl could not do more to help a close friend of hers, even with the later (also horrifying) reveal that Madoka was effectively infantilized to be this ineffectual. For comparison, A Nightmare on Elm Street's protagonist Nancy Thompson is also an ordinary girl (often clad in pink pajamas) who had the misfortune of being in a horror movie. The first thing she does? Organize a sleepover party for her friend Tina after her traumatic encounter with Freddy Krueger. Sure, she didn't stop her from getting killed either, but it's that active support and solidarity she offers that distinguishes her from a passive non-entity like Madoka, and the first action that establishes Nancy as a compelling heroine to root for.

In comparison, Madoka is boring. You could easily replace her with another plot device character, say, Charlie Bucket, and the show would go on the same way. Particularly cringy are her "arguments" with the main villain Kyubey about his plan to harvest the energy of girls, which resemble a one-sided faux-debate reminiscent of Steven Crowder's "Change My Mind." You'd think that when he's presenting sexist arguments about how girls are especially overemotional, how every famous woman in history got her powers from aliens, or absurd claims that half the population of a single planet could have enough energy to stop the heat death of the entire universe (and that most living beings would care about an event even though they would be long gone by then due to death of their own stars or climate crises on their own planets), Madoka would be able to say more than "That's wrong!" But that would require Madoka to have a personality to argue against the series creator's mouthpiece.

Yes, this series is profoundly conservative in its outlook. Whereas dark fantasy series like Labyrinth and Nightmare on Elm Street are about encouraging girls to find courage and stand up to the controlling figures in their lives, whether in fantasy or reality, Madoka instead insists trying to change society is ineffectual and the best one can do is remain pure and untainted by it. Homura, the one who actually tries to change their situation, gets stuck in an endless time loop to be reminded of her failure over and over again. Even her plan reflects this conservatism (and is also the reason why she never succeeds): she infantilizes Madoka and prevents her from doing anything to keep her away from the magical girl contract, preserving her purity and innocence. No wonder the sequel movie has her drop the pretence and embrace being the villain.

The ending resembles a Hans Christian Andersen fable in that after torturing our heroines across 12 episodes, Madoka ascends to heaven and insists it's okay, because all magical girls will also ascend to heaven after they die. Except Sayaka of course, because in the spirit of Susan Pevensie of Chronicles of Narnia infamy, she lusted after a boy (seriously, justice for Sayaka Miki. She doesn't deserve the shit she goes through). Again, no change to the system, no attempt to actually correct the injustice committed against girls and women. Just find solace in the afterlife. Gen Urobuchi may as well be a Christian preacher.

The last main character of note is Kyoko, but she isn't much of a character either. There's multiple different versions of her, all switching depending on narrative convenience. Established as a selfish anti-hero who just wants to survive, she abruptly changes face after her ambiguous, poorly-explained backstory reveal to be a perky, optimistic girl who would die for Sayaka. But that's the thing. The girls of Madoka Magica aren't really characters, but plot devices. That's why they barely interact with each other in a meaningful way. That's why their friendships feel so surface-level. They fill the role the narrative wants of them, and that's it.

So what does this mean for you, the reader? Especially those that are fans of Madoka Magica and even do fanart and cosplay of the characters? Well, I can see the appeal. Homura's backstory is quite touching; she wanted to help and avenge a friend who inspired her and gave her courage, even if I feel she went about it the wrong way, to put it lightly. I wouldn't be complaining so much about Sayaka's fate if I didn't appreciate and care about her. And I guess this is a series that lacks fanservice and has relatable female characters, albeit wrapped up in an anti-feminist narrative. I can understand why it's such a huge presence at conventions alongside Sailor Moon, and I enjoy all the fan art coming out of it and the imagination it sparked in people.

But at the end of the day, Madoka is nothing new. It's your typical conservative fairy tale repackaged for a new generation. And seeing how much more empowering other anime and fantasy works can be, I'm not impressed.

This feels like a post-script season. It's better than the disastrous 2nd season, and it has some good moments that give meaningful development to some characters, but it otherwise feels episodic and aimless. The callbacks to the first season only reinforce how much the entire Superstar subseries is carried by its first 12 episodes. Without that lingering nostalgia or the Love Live name, there would be little reason to watch this.

Chisato, Keke, and Natsumi benefit the most from this season. Episode 3 serves as a nice climax for Chisato's story. She's always been an understated presence as Kanon's number two, but her assertiveness and independent ... thinking makes her one of the show's best and most memorable characters (with her scenes in the last two episodes of Season 2 being one of its few redeeming moments). Given the chance to lead Liella, she really shines as someone who builds confidence in others by pushing them past their self-imposed limitations, and it's heartwarming to see that she has channeled her childhood trauma in such a positive direction. Keke's character arc finally resolves here, and while it's a predictable conclusion, it fits thematically with what she established about her insecurities in the first season. Natsumi gets a do-over from her Season 2 debut has become a more sympathetic character with her expanded backstory. However, unlike the original Liella members in Season 1, where everyone found an answer to their insecurities, Natsumi's arc feels unfinished, with a conclusion that is incongruent with her anxieties. In fact, the rest of the post-S1 cast (and the long-neglected Ren) also lack complete stories. Say what you want about Sumire's lack of presence in S3, but at least she got a conclusive resolution in S1.

This unfortunately symbolizes S3's writing in general. Despite having the same production team, S2 and S3 have less things to say than S1, often stretching out episodes with filler material and demonstrating a lesser understanding of the characters compared to how nuanced and in-depth they were in S1. One of the worst examples of this is when new character and Natsumi's sister Tomari compares her to Kanon by saying they're not comparable because Kanon is talented. Kanon, a girl who struggled with depression throughout her first season, the ordinary heroine that showed incredible sincerity and willpower to finally break through and hear the sound of the future, the beloved protagonist that many shy people in the audience, including myself, saw ourselves in, had her entire arc reduced to being a mere chosen one on a pedestal. If you believe Tomari, she's no longer supposed to be relatable. It's a jarring thematic contradiction that reveals how much less care was put into the writing, and it does not bode well for Love Live as a whole when also considering the same lack of care led to the demise of its long running mobile rhythm game months before this season aired.

One of the last few episodes reveals another contradiction. There, a character is given the option to do a sad song, but insists she doesn't want to out of consideration for others. Nice and sweet in isolation, except the entire first season was about sadness and using music as an outlet for overcoming sadness. This could have been another interesting conflict between two girls from different backgrounds, another chance to push someone out of their comfort zones and learn new things, but instead, everyone goes with her request without question. It's this overly safe, feel-good resolution that may have been acceptable in a different slice-of-life anime, but is disappointing after Superstar has shown it is capable of much deeper, more insightful storytelling than this.

There are other things that could be said about the bloated now 11 member cast, which still feels like a corporate decision rather than something that genuinely benefits the writing, but the former examples already give an indication of the season's general messiness. It's unlikely to change people's minds on Superstar, whatever their perspective coming in. For those committed to seeing this to the end, it's not the worst way to spend 12 episodes, but it sends the message not to expect anything special from the franchise, and that's the biggest disappointment of all.

Even as of 2025, Sakura manages to stand out from the magical girl crowd. Unlike Sailor Moon or Precure where the girls' power comes from an external source, Sakura resembles an adventure game protagonist who uses existing her existing card toolset to subdue and catch Clow spirits and gain new powers (e.g. Wood is normally gentle, but something is causing it to run amok). This allows the audience, especially kids, to put themselves in her shoes and try to solve the puzzle themselves, and child me certainly enjoyed being able to look up to the protagonist, especially since girly characters were usually portrayed as clueless ... and ditzy.

But if you ask me, the real star of the show is Meiling. She's a polarizing character because she's anime exclusive and a whiny brat, but her story about being the unchosen one, someone who didn't receive magical powers, but tries really hard at everything she does anyway, is something I found really relatable especially as someone from the Chinese diaspora. Her arrogant, headstrong attitude made for a nice change of pace in a mostly calm, nice cast, she's snarky and gets the funniest lines in the show, and she still is an infectiously cheerful girl who's a lot of fun to be around. She may not have the best story resolution, but she walked so The Chazz of Yu-Gi-Oh GX fame could run, and the group dynamic lost a lot once she left near the end of the Clow Card arc.

The slice-of-life focus is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it was a nice change of pace from the intense save-the-world plots of other series at the time. However, it makes the world feel small and limited after she does catch all the cards. Instead of going out, seeing the world, and meeting other magicians to further learn and grow, she's still stuck in her hometown stopping whatever mischief comes around. To many slice-of-life viewers, that's the point of the genre, but I was disappointed, especially after Clear Card came out and showed a Sakura that was ostensibly older, but still acted the same way. It's that uncanny feeling of watching something that has stayed eternally young even though I've grown up and the characters' easygoing lives and simple troubles are no longer relatable. Despite these concerns, I still rate this highly because of its clever premise and how well it works for its intended shoujo audience.

Widely regarded as a landmark anime, one that showed that cute girls can do more than just cute things, A Place Further than the Universe feels more like a classic adventure anime than its slice-of-life predecessors, though ostensibly more realistic with its destination being Antarctica and including nods to Japan's history with the continent. Shirase, named after Japan's iconic icebreaker named after a glacier named after historic explorer Nobu Shirase, is a compelling leading lady, with her dogged determination and straight honesty being the main push for this adventure, even though she's still an impulsive teenager and thus ends up being the centre of the ... show's comedy, frequently ending up in situations way over her head. Her primary motivation is to find her lost mother in Antarctica, and chances are good that viewers will have figured out early on what really happened to her (if not, you can look up Shin Fukushima, who she was inspired by). At that point, underneath the comedic hijinks of the high school explorers is a tense game of waiting for the shoe to drop, and when it does in the penultimate episode, it's a powerfully solemn, yet cathartic affair. "You give up a few things, chasing a dream."

That being said, while the cast is a likeable bunch, with charming interactions among the high school quartet and the female-dominated adult crew, Antarctica itself is kind of disappointing. While the story is indeed based on Japanese history, there's little focus on the actual scientific research being done which is the reason people in real life go there in the first place. The continent is known for its ice cores telling the story of the world's climate, icebergs and sheets serving as a canary in the coal mine for looming global warming upheaval, rich and unique ecosystems hidden beneath the ice, and so much more. Here, though, it's treated as a tourist destination with penguins, nice scenery, and auroras. Shirase's companions have interesting character arcs that would be compelling in a typical slice-of-life show, dealing with topics of social isolation and ostracism, but these could have taken place anywhere else in the world. They didn't need to go to Antarctica to resolve these problems in a way resembling the common mythical Orientalist portrayal of Tibet. You could viably replace Antarctica with some other remote destination like the Arctic, the Himalayas, Castle in the Sky, Treasure Planet, and the story wouldn't change much.

In addition, while I don't think people necessarily expect realism in a show like this, the show betrays its realistic veneer multiple times. In the end, for all of their bravado of uncompromising courage and conviction, the girls only go to Antarctica due to, essentially, getting lucky that the the planets of circumstance aligned in their favour. In an early episode, they even try going to Tokyo's red light district and hoping an adult man would pick them up, which is really a dynamic that should not be normalized. There's a scene where they are facing the dangerous, turbulent waters of the Antarctic sea, but they go outside just to admire its majesty, which I shouldn't need to tell you is a bad, unsafe idea. Like many anime and Hollywood movies (think Indiana Jones vs real archaeology), this is a typical romanticized, fantasy adventure series disguised as real world geographical exploration. It's a pretty enjoyable series viewed through that lens, and indeed, it's great to see women taking dominant, leading roles and initiative in this expedition, but in the spirit of Shirase, I do have to be honest about what this show is.

One interesting point of note is that this was written by Love Live veteran Jukki Hanada, and it bears the hallmarks of that series with Shirase coming off as a what if story where Dia Kurosawa from Sunshine was an Antarctic explorer instead. Indeed, while A Place Further than the Universe has trailblazed a path for cute anime girls to be braver and more ambitious in general in shows following it, Love Live Superstar has a direct lineage. It's interesting to watch these two series together because you can see how Love Live itself has changed with the Antarctic experience. I honestly think Superstar is the better show because Hanada and co are more in his element, having direct experience with the music production scene which makes Superstar feel more authentic and true to life compared to Antarctica, which was only a faraway place in the history books. But it's good for writers and producers to go out of their element, and making A Place Further than the Universe undoubtedly had a positive impact on their own experiences and storytelling as well as the many people watching it.

First thing you'll likely notice about this anime is that it has a kickass dub OP, available in English and German. This alone would be enough to make it stand out among the other shonen adventure series at the turn of the millennium. That and its English dub being exclusive to the Canadian channel YTV. But is this stone truly a hidden gem worthy of obscure anime bragging rights? If you're looking for a good ol' 00's era adventure anime, this band of fighters is worth travelling with.

To be straight, though, this wasn't a groundbreaking series even at the time, and if you've watched enough ... of the genre, you'll recognize the stock character archetypes: the hotheaded shonen lead, the perky ninja girl with a crush on said shonen dude, the bumbling Team Rocket like pirates, the stoic samurai rival, and so on. The episodes themselves can get pretty repetitive: with a good deal of new character introductions following the standard "team visits new town with a crisis that turns out to be instigated by a corrupt authority figure." But their interactions are fun, and there's a surprising depth to lead boy Edward Fokker/Falcon, who starts off as a spoiled, privileged brat but grows to really understand and empathize with others along the journey. His kindness especially makes for heartwarming interactions with the creepy mummy-esque Jack, who gets too little screentime considering how tragic his story is, and his personal idol Valgas, whose true role in the story probably will not be surprising to people who have been watching anime for a while. Still, their interactions make the final episodes an emotional roller coaster that is well worth the journey to get there.

All in all, it's a good way to spend 26 episodes if you're looking for a nostalgia trip.

...oh yeah, there was a Power Stone game, wasn't there? Two of them, in fact.

Lighthearted, silly show for those who like cartoon frenemy dynamics such as Sam Sheepdog and Ralph Wolf or LazyTown or Team Rocket. Despite the magical girl premise, the real star of the show is the hapless nominal villain Chroma, who is as handsome as Alucard from Castlevania yet as much of a mostly harmless softie as James from Pokémon. But only mostly, as he does win over his enemies every so often, albeit from his own evil organization rather than his supposed enemy Berry Blossom.

In the end, this is not a show that is going to make big changes in the world or anything despite ... misleading initial hype about this heralding a magical girl renaissance. In the tradition of many other gag manga (see also: The Way of the Househusband), all it wants to do is to put a smile on your face with its goofy, outlandish premise. Its roots are quite apparent in the way multiple episodes are really just a few short manga chapters strung together, rapidly jumping from one situation to another with only the thinnest veneer of an overarching plot. So maybe not something that necessarily translates the best to anime format, but it did make me want to check out more of the manga, so I guess, mission accomplished.

Midway through Season 1, a girl is being brutally abused by her mother when she claims she understands what she's going through because she found out the psychological term for it. This is enough to make her mother stop and break down in tears. This clunky, didactic scene exemplifies Blue Reflection Ray: a well meaning show that wants to say relevant things about teenage girls' hidden issues, but lacks the care and finesse to do so in a convincing way.

To be clear, this is not a Wonder Egg Priority we're dealing with. The writing issues are more its tendency towards convoluted soap opera / RPG ... melodrama than anything offensively bad. But the setup is an interesting one. For those who haven't played the first Blue Reflection game, first, you're not missing much because it's terrible. But Ray is effectively an interrogation of that game's core premise of having magical Reflectors delve into people's minds and understanding their problems to give them advice at the end. All good when it's mostly the petty concerns of well-off high schoolers, but what if they were to encounter more serious, deeply rooted problems? Are inexperienced teenage girls really fit for this level of psychotherapy? Especially when employed by an organization that's unresponsive and bureaucratic? (brilliant satire of the typical "mysterious org that works in mysterious ways," btw)

Enter the Sith Lords, er Red Reflectors, who decide to rid the world emotions so girls will never have to suffer again. Hmm...where have I heard that one before? Knights of the Old Republic II? Tales of Symphonia? Okay, maybe not the most original premise, but it does provide the backdrop for an interesting ideological conflict. But in practice, fights tend to degenerate into lead character Hiori going all talk no jutsu about how precious and important feelings are (hmm...sound familiar? Maybe a certain other series that likes to use "darkness" and "heart" a lot?) Basically, for all its overwhelmingly convoluted, poorly explained world building and overly padded out 24 episode run time, the plot is really a standard "Villains extract Fragments from girls of the week so they can open the door to Kingdom Hearts, er, The Commons." Complain as I may about tropey writing, the final two episodes are such a loving homage to RPG final dungeons that I can't help but enjoy it. If only the rest of the show was exciting as that finale.

Other examples of the show's contrived melodrama: The first arc is about a rich girl whose parents don't understand her, so she tries to get herself run over by a train. Main sisters Hiori and Mio have lost their mom and have waiting a long 5 years for her to return. Somehow, no one intervened in all this time, but it's later revealed their aunt was willing to take them in (sounding way too casual about the situation), but Mio stubbornly refused. (given sequel game Second Light's reveal of her mother's motives, I guess stubbornness and questionable decision making runs in the family?) Edgelord Red Reflector rival Niina constantly carries around a rolling suitcase that her abusive mom claims is their entire life, only to later open it and angrily realize it's nothing, even though she should have noticed how unusually light it felt. And there's a scene where the main villain's powers are revealed...to come from a dark cloud. That's like the Medabots scene where Space Medafighter X's mask breaks off to reveal another mask, except ostensibly not meant to be a joke.

Still, while I wouldn't call it a good anime or an underrated gem by any means, chances are, if you've played a lot of RPGs as the writers themselves have clearly done, you're probably immunized to needlessly convoluted and cheesy soap opera writing, and watching girls fight each other with their friends as their power isn't the worst way to spend 24 episodes. Tone-wise, it's a nice crossroads between the optimistic tone of Sailor Moon era magical girls and the art style and more psychological focus of the Madoka era.

Finally, how much does watching this anime add to the follow-up Blue Reflection: Second Light (which actually is a decent game)? Not much, honestly. If the events of the anime get referenced at all, it's only in broad strokes, and aside from the main characters' mother showing up, Second Light's plot goes in a very different direction. There really should have been better communication between production staff before attempting to pull a Blue Reflection Cinematic Universe on us.

To paraphrase Roger Ebert's Day after Tomorrow review: "It is such a relief to hear the music swell up at the end of a Makoto Shinkai movie, its restorative power giving us new hope. Millions of people may have died or had to evacuate, but at least the main characters love each other."

So, do I start with the movie's complacency in the face of climate catastrophe or with its obnoxious brat of a lead Hodaka? Both are intertwined in their misguidedness. Obviously, the prospect of entire cities getting flooded in the not-so-far future is a terrifying one, one that we're all going to have to ... prepare for by upgrading our infrastructure, healing our ecosystems, and stop pumping fossil fuels into the atmosphere to at least stem the damage and make the former two things, among others, possible to do. Turning it into a maudlin Titanic-esque love story is as myopic a take as to be expected from the movie industry. That being said, there is a bit of nuance that may be lost on people not aware of Tokyo's history as it references how Japan drained the waters of a city that used to look like Venice. With this in mind, the ending does have a relevant ecological message (in a sense, making the entire movie's premise the product of Tokyo's founders' original sin) and isn't about climate denial as some people have misinterpreted it to be.

Hodaka is still a dick, though. An impulsive brat who constantly puts himself and others in danger, even before his final decision, but it's okay because he loves a girl! Said girl, Hina, is a cliched self-sacrificing Kushi-inada-hime archetype that already exists in countless Japanese fiction stories. I guess she works as a metaphor for how the older generation has sacrificed their childrens' futures in pursuit of profit at the expense of the ecosystem, but she doesn't have much of a distinctive personality outside of that. It's obvious these two are capitalizing on the popularity of Your Name, but lighting doesn't strike twice this time. Though if it hit Hodaka....

In short, this movie represents the worst aspects of blockbuster movie melodrama, and once and for all proves Shinkai is not Miyazaki (a comparison that should never have been made in the first place as their movie styles are totally different beasts). Go pick up Nausicaa or Mononoke if you want actually thoughtful, relevant stories related to the ecological crisis.

At the end of the day, Love Live exists to sell an idol group. No matter how sincere the intentions of the production staff, which Season 1 wonderfully showed, everything is subservient to this cold hard fact. The sudden introduction of 4 new characters to the group was obviously not a decision made with artistic intent (imagine if Sailor Moon immediately introduced all four Outer Senshi in the second arc rather than steadily growing the cast), and the entire story is poorly thought out, paced, and reeks of rushed production.

To be clear, the newcomers aren't entirely without merit. The first three episodes with Kinako make ... for an interesting conflict between her, who embodies the promise that anyone can become an idol even starting from no experience, and an original generation of five experienced performers who have been pursuing their dreams since childhood. But herein lies the first crack. Shouldn't Keke, who also struggled with poor physical fitness at first, be able to connect with her on a personal level? Instead, the kind, cheerful girl of the first season has been reduced to a sour, miserable caricature of her former self and has to be reminded of their similarity. This character assassination occurred for no apparent reason other than to fill the token Love Live "bickering couple" role with Sumire, who also does almost nothing of note other than serve as the brunt of humiliation by not just Keke, but the rest of the cast.

Remember the promise of the Season 1 finale? One showing five girls who had taken the first significant step to becoming confident performers, but now have higher ambitions to win? Wouldn't you like to see them grow and develop their craft to even greater heights? Isn't that the main reason you're watching this season? Well too bad, because Kanon's Furious Four are barely even in it. Ren only gets one filler episode and may as well be invisible otherwise, with her nominal leadership role being reduced to mere bureaucratic upkeep. Her focus ep is admittedly amusing one, but it's so far removed from her struggles in the first season that one wonders if the execs thought they no longer fit the lighter tone this season went with. Chisato at least does take small steps forward, setting the stage to fully blossom into her own in Season 3, and plays a highly important role in the season finale.

The wonderfully relatable and multifaceted Kanon of the first season has being simplified into a blandly nice Maria von Trapp figure to the new girls while taking a disproportionate amount of the show's screen time. In the final two episodes, Season 1 Kanon does return, and although it still comes at the expense of the rest of the cast, she does receive a significant plot development that serves as a beautiful closure to the story of the girl who has grown so much from her self-hatred and disbelief in her ability to impact the world...except they managed to almost completely screw it up. How such a nihilistic cliffhanger that so thoroughly destroys the credibility of the series' emotional weight managed to pass quality assurance remains a mystery to this day.

In fact, Season 2 has a talent for shooting itself in its own foot. Returning to the new girls, even from a cynical "to sell toys" standpoint, shouldn't the season be a showcase for their unique, admirable traits so people would actually want to buy their toys? Instead, Kinako gets quickly shafted as Mei and Shiki make their simultaneous Liella debuts. Ultimately, they are superfluous as this episode is the full extent of their already shallow motives, with Mei's resting bitch face anxieties never being brought up again and Shiki literally only joining for Mei's sake. Natsumi is more interesting, with her motive of lacking a focused goal in life again contrasting with the dedicated and driven original cast. But again, this is not brought up again after her focus episodes, and it would take until Season 3 where her backstory effectively becomes rewritten from its poorly fleshed out first draft of a Season 2 debut.

Worse, 3/4 of the show's run time is spent comparing them unfavourably to the founding members. Competitiveness is one thing, but you'd think that an idol group of this caliber should have resolved this issue long before the qualifying rounds. Instead, this subplot effectively resolves with the implication that, actually, the original 5 were capable of winning all along by themselves and don't need the newcomers. Oh, did I say "resolves?" Actually, it doesn't resolve anything, as the skill gap between the two Liella generations persists all the way to the final performance, with the only difference being that Kanon decided they should be nicer to the new members.

There is something unpleasantly mean-spirited about this season as a whole. Remember how Season 1 was all about building the girls up and seeing them heal from trauma and failure to become confident performers? Between Keke's bitterness, Sumire's constant heckling, the constant reminders of how weak the new girls are, I fail to see how any of this inspires confidence and self-worth. In fact, if it weren't for the producers giving little thought to having them react to this mistreatment in a realistic way, I'd imagine at least half of Liella would end this season broken and demoralized. How does one so thoroughly miss the point of your own series? What even is the message this season is trying to convey?

One final damning condemnation of this season comes from its final insert song, Mirai no Oto ga Kikoeru (I Can Hear the Sound of the Future). While most of this season's songs are mediocre, with many having only tenuous connections to the story, this one is actually a very touching song that serves as a heartwarming summary and closure to the story of the five founding members (although you have to hear it in full because the anime version does not do it justice). But it primarily works because it almost entirely recaps the story of Season 1, showing how little Season 2 adds to the wider Superstar story as a whole.

It is frustrating to compare this show to Healer Girl, which came out a few months earlier and ended up taking the concept of growing together through singing in an interesting new direction while being more faithful to Superstar Season 1's themes and musical quality than its actual follow-up. That show, like many other non-franchise titles, is unlikely to receive a second season despite the potential for expanding the story. Meanwhile, Love Live is a big enough name for Superstar to get a second chance, and they squandered it. One wonders how much the series could have grown otherwise had it not been constrained by corporate dictates, because I do not believe that anyone directly involved in Season 1 does not care about their work.

Still, despite this season being horribly flawed, it's prevented from receiving a 2 or even a 1 because it's still funny at times and there are elements of a good story in there. It does plant seeds for Season 3 to expand on, and the follow-up also goes some way towards lessening the blow this season inflicted. Those plot elements are unfortunately too important to simply skip this season. But the fact that it had so much of a mess to clean up prevented Season 3 from reaching the heights it could have otherwise.

Is suffering through this season worth it to get there? Only if you love Liella that much, and, well, I guess I watched this season despite bad word-of-mouth. Interpret that as you will.

This is two shows in one. The first, which lasts until Episode 23, is an awesome show with a kickass lead, entertaining villains, and a dramatic and moving climax that truly reaffirms Sora's heroic strength. The second is a mess of inconsequential filler episodes with boring villains and a main plot hastily infodumped in the last 5 episodes, only for its potentially interesting conflict to be quickly discarded by a cheap Korra Equalist twist.

But even its weaker second half is still watchable due to the chemistry of the main couple: Sora and Mashiro. It is always a rare joy to see a headstrong tomboy lead ... character in a magical girl series, a Pippi Longstocking level powerhouse in a striking and pretty Sky Land dress. Beside her is the gentler Mashiro, whose side story of becoming a children's author is very sweet.

Unfortunately, the rest of the cast is a mixed bag. Tsubasa, the series' first male Cure, is very relatable in his scientific interests, but his character arc is weirdly patriarchal for a series about female empowerment. Ageha, the nursery school teacher with the personality of an excited kids' show host, is very entertaining to watch and I would like to say is my favourite of the bunch...except she gets shafted to supporting roles more often than not. Her sad backstory regarding her parents' divorce is only given a few token nods, denying her the character depth she could have otherwise had and a chance to connect with those who went through similar broken families. And the baby, Ellee, is basically a plot device, even after the awkwardly executed reveal of her true nature.

So is it worth watching? Well, maybe? It's one of those shows that sets up a mystery box for 45 episodes only for its contents to be underwhelming, but if you're just in it for the action and cute character interactions, you could do a lot worse. If this show was more consistent, it could have been a magical girl classic, but as it stands, it falls apart in the second half and we just have to deal with it.