Back to imquotable's Profile imquotable's Profile

Prism Rondo feels like a series made by people who care deeply about visual composition and cinematic language. The mise en scène is carefully controlled, with color, lighting, and background design doing as much storytelling as the dialogue. The show treats its environments as emotional extensions of the characters, and its strongest moments come from how image, sound, and pacing work together to communicate inner conflict and artistic identity rather than relying on heavy exposition.

Where it becomes less convincing is in its narrative structure. The dramatic build is inconsistent, some arcs take too long to develop while the final emotional resolutions are compressed. Character decisions, ... especially in the romance, sometimes feel required by the story rather than emerging naturally from prior development. This creates a disconnect between the care put into the form and the uncertainty of the storytelling.

It isn’t a failure, and it isn’t a clear success. It’s a work with strong formal intelligence and uneven narrative execution. I admire its craft and its seriousness of intent, but I remain unconvinced by how completely it earns its emotional conclusions.

Shiboyugi: Playing Death Games to Put Food on the Table. Or are we really playing games? Doesn’t matter, we'll at least look pretty.

Three episodes in, Shiboyugi is leaning hard on aesthetics over substance. The show is visually striking, but not always in a way that works. In wide shots, the characters’ features disappear entirely, probably an artistic choice, but personally, it’s frustrating. The animation is average at best, and characters often move at a glacial pace. Take the stairs scene in episode two, each step drags like hours. If the whole sequence is meant to be a dream, fine, that makes sense. If not, ... I don’t see the point.

Voice acting is subdued and whispery, giving off an ASMR vibe. It’s meant to be edgy cute, but it mostly comes off as flat. Characters try hard to sound quirky or dark, yet the performance often feels performative rather than genuine.

Character depth is minimal. Most of them rotate too quickly for any meaningful development. Yuki is the only constant, and so far we know very little about her beyond how miserable her life looks from an outside pov, and her goal of finishing 99 deadly games for reasons unknown. That said, she’s refreshingly anti heroic. No saccharine "forgive everyone and internalize betrayal" nonsense here, she’s pragmatic, cold, and willing to act without moral fanfare.

Pacing is a disaster. Don't get me wrong, I’m a fan of Bela Tarr and Tarkovsky, I appreciate deliberate, meditative slow burns, but there’s slow, and then there’s this. Scenes drag without purpose, tension builds and collapses in suspended emptiness, and the series risks feeling like a stylistic exercise instead of a story.

Shiboyugi succeeds as a mood piece. Its visuals are bold, its anti hero MC is intriguing, and the premise is darkly compelling. But after three episodes, the series struggles to build narrative momentum or meaningful connection. It’s a striking experiment in style, but substance is still scrambling to catch up.

Gachiakuta is visually impressive in almost every obvious way. The animation is fluid, the aesthetics are striking, the character designs are memorable, the tone is strong, the fights are dynamic, and the power system is engaging and easy to follow. On a purely technical and artistic level, the show delivers. If someone is watching primarily for stylish action and strong presentation, it succeeds quite comfortably.

The problems begin once the show has to rely on anything beyond visuals.

One major issue is the sound. The constant screaming from many characters makes entire scenes feel like a competition to see who can shout the loudest. This is amplified ... by very poor audio mixing. Action scenes and shouting become extremely loud, then normal conversations suddenly drop to a much lower volume, forcing constant manual adjustments. This wasn’t a file quality issue, even high bitrate versions had the same problem. It’s simply inconsistent audio design that makes watching the show more tiring than it should be.

The writing also has a recurring "telling instead of showing" problem, and sometimes manages to do both unnecessarily. There are scenes where something is clearly visualized, then the characters immediately explain exactly what we just saw. For example, a character gets hit, the show explicitly depicts a rib breaking, and then the character proceeds to announce that they got hit and their rib was broken. It treats the audience as if they cannot interpret basic visuals.

Character writing is another weak area. Most of the cast feels like familiar shonen archetypes without much originality. This is not automatically terrible, but it is undeniably generic. In some cases it goes further than that, with characters that feel almost duplicated. Jabber Wongar and Stilza August come across as essentially the same personality assigned to opposite sides. Other designs, such as Fu, feel less like thoughtfully written characters and more like someone’s personal sexual fantasies inserted directly into the story.

The supporter system is also questionable from a narrative and tactical perspective. Supporters accompany Givers into extremely dangerous combat situations despite being clearly weaker and often unable to contribute meaningfully. There are multiple examples where Givers fight effectively without supporters, such as Enjine and Rudo’s early battle and later major fights, with no acknowledgment that supporters are even necessary. Their presence mainly seems designed to place a fragile, likable character in danger to provoke emotional responses from the audience. A “Nanami type character”, because who doesn't like a Nanami type character, is endangered not because it makes sense tactically, but because it reliably generates reactions. Meanwhile, someone actually useful in combat like Eishia, who can heal, is not the one taken into these situations, which underlines how artificial this setup is.

Pacing overall is acceptable, but the weaknesses of the writing become obvious when the action stops. Episode 16 is a clear example. It contains little to no action and relies almost entirely on dialogue and character interaction. Because the characters are not particularly compelling and the dialogue lacks impact, the episode feels far longer than it actually is. It drags not because it is slow, but because there is not enough substance to support a dialogue-focused episode.

What is most revealing is the reception. Despite these issues, the show holds a rating over 8, which suggests how strongly presentation outweighs writing quality in current anime culture. Exceptional animation, striking aesthetics, and cool fights seem to compensate for generic characters, weak dialogue, and shallow thematic handling.

Gachiakuta is not a terrible series, it is entertaining and often impressive to look at. But it is also a work where style carries most of the weight, and where the absence of action exposes how thin the character writing and dialogue really are.

In short, Gachiakuta excels visually and technically, but struggles in storytelling, character depth, and audio design. It is enjoyable as spectacle, but much weaker as a complete narrative experience.

This season feels like a downgrade from what made the first season charming. Yes, the fight scenes are cleaner and flashier, and the animation is undeniably better, but that’s pretty much where the improvements end. The show seems unsure of what it wants to be now. Instead of embracing the comedy-first, wholesome slice-of-life rhythm that defined Season 1, this season shifts toward being a more serious, standard shonen action series. The tone is constantly clashing with itself, one minute the show wants you to take the danger seriously, and the next it throws in a forced gag that isn’t even funny.

The comedy used to be ... natural, tied to the characters and their daily life. Now the jokes feel like they exist just to remind you that this was once a comedy. Sakamoto blocking bullets with an apron or Akira sewing a parachute mid-air aren’t clever, they’re lazy exaggerations that break immersion instead of enhancing it. Even worse, those over-the-top comedic moments are often followed immediately by serious scenes, making the emotional tone feel messy and inconsistent. Instead of blending genres, it feels like the show is switching masks every few minutes.

Season 1 worked because it was simple, warm, funny, and character-driven, family, daily routine, absurd problems, then action. Season 2 loses that identity, and without that heart, the improved animation can’t carry it alone. It looks better, sure, but it feels worse.

A cool-looking season with no idea what it wants to be, entertaining in moments, but directionless and tonally confused.

Stylish Setup, but Substance Struggles to Keep Up

Your Forma sets out with a compelling premise, a futuristic world where memories can be extracted and investigated, but quickly finds itself bogged down by its own weighty ambitions.

The series opens in medias res, dropping viewers into a dense cyberpunk setting with minimal orientation. While that can work for some, here it feels more disorienting than intriguing. The show leans heavily on technobabble, often overwhelming rather than immersing, and its mystery elements fall surprisingly flat. In several cases, the “brain dive” mechanics feel unnecessary, uncovering clues that should’ve been easily spotted by standard detective work.

Characters are another weak ... point. Echika, our emotionally distant protagonist, maintains a cold, monotone presence. While her android partner Harold is meant to offer contrast and levity, his personality quirks feel more like preprogrammed gimmicks than genuine charm. Their dynamic, central to the show’s progression, lacks real tension or warmth.

The pacing doesn’t help. Early episodes rush through developments, offering little room to build suspense or emotional investment. Plot points land with a thud instead of a punch. Despite its sci-fi aesthetic, the structure slips into formulaic “case of the week” rhythms, making it feel like a generic procedural in futuristic clothing.

Visually, the animation has its moments, but consistency is an issue. Episode 3 in particular suffers from rough cuts and uninspired visuals that undermine the intensity the story tries to deliver.

Final Thoughts
Your Forma has the framework of a smart, stylish thriller, but its execution struggles under the weight of its own concepts. It may still find its stride in later episodes, but so far, it’s more form than function.

You ever get the feeling that something about you isn’t quite right, but you can’t tell what?

What immediately stands out is the visual direction. The animation is stunning, not in a loud or overproduced way, but in how carefully it's composed. The color palette, the line work, the lighting, it all carries a warm grain that feels like a love letter to 90s anime, yet it’s undeniably modern. Every frame feels touched by human hands. Honestly, this might be, aesthetically, the most beautiful anime series. It’s not just technically well-done, it’s visually evocative, soaked in nostalgia without ever slipping into imitation.

The show doesn't hand you ... answers. It lets you feel the weight of what isn't said. The characters, especially Kujirai, move through their routines like people chasing shadows of a life they can’t quite remember. And as the story quietly fractures, you start to question what’s real, what’s remembered, and what’s manufactured.

It’s romantic in a haunting, almost hollow way. Every interaction feels like it's been lived before. There's tension, not in action but in memory, like everyone is playing a role they didn’t agree to but somehow know by heart.

Three episodes in and I’m already invested in whatever this story is unraveling. It doesn’t just tell a mystery, it makes you feel like part of one.

If it keeps this level of storytelling and aesthetic finesse, it could end up being something really special.

Dandadan – A Comedy First, Action Second.

Dandadan is, first and foremost, a comedy. Anyone approaching it with the expectation of a conventional shounen action anime may find themselves disappointed. The series is driven by an eccentric, over-the-top comedic style, characterized by exaggerated reactions and an unrelenting chaotic energy. In many ways, it evokes the spirit of Mob Psycho 100 and FLCL, though not necessarily to its advantage.

At its core, Dandadan leans heavily into absurd humor, which may not resonate with all viewers, as comedy is inherently subjective. The show blends supernatural action with slapstick, flamboyant expressions, and crude jokes—most notably an abundance of penis-related humor—which ... can come across as juvenile or even off-putting. While it is not explicitly an ecchi anime, it certainly flirts with the genre at times. One such instance involves characters shedding their clothes under the pretense that they are "too heavy," a moment that borders on gratuitous fanservice and feels largely unnecessary within the context of the story. For those who do not appreciate nudity as a comedic device, such scenes may detract from the experience.

Animation & Visuals:

Visually, the series boasts a strong presentation. The animation is vibrant and dynamic, effectively complementing the frenzied nature of the narrative. Certain fight sequences are particularly well-executed, featuring fluid motion and striking visual effects that enhance their impact. However, the overall quality of these action scenes is inconsistent; while some are genuinely impressive, others feel overly chaotic or lack the same level of polish, making them less engaging than they could be.

Characters:

The characters themselves adhere to well-worn archetypes without much deviation. Okarun (Ken Takakura) embodies the familiar role of the shy, nerdy, and initially powerless protagonist. Momo Ayase serves as the strong yet endearing female lead, her spirited personality acting as a foil to Okarun’s timid demeanor. Aira Shiratori, another female character introduced later, follows a similar pattern. Predictably, the narrative integrates harem elements, as both Momo and Aira develop romantic interest in Okarun. This dynamic feels somewhat contrived, adding little originality to the character relationships and making their interactions rather predictable.

Ultimately, Dandadan is an energetic and chaotic spectacle that thrives on exaggerated humor, supernatural action, and a touch of raunchiness. For those who appreciate its brand of comedy, it may prove to be an entertaining ride. However, for viewers who find its humor unappealing or are put off by the occasional ecchi elements, the series may struggle to leave a lasting impression.

Undead Girl Murder Farce is an anime that plunges its viewers into a world of mystery, and supernatural suspense. This series, while not for the faint of heart, offers a captivating experience.

The first episode, directed by Mamoru Hatakeyama, delivers a visually striking experience with its dark and mysterious art style. Hatakeyama's deliberate pacing and clever shot composition build tension effectively, seamlessly blending the mundane with supernatural elements. I really loved the cinematic way he approached some scenes and made unusual decisions in how to frame them, it reminded me of the Monogatari Series. The dialogue is concise yet engaging, revealing key plot points without sacrificing ... mystery. The sound design enhances the foreboding atmosphere, making the episode a promising start to an intriguing and chilling series. It is safe to say that the first episode is one of the best first episodes in all of Anime. Alas, you'd notice the difference in some episodes where the storyboard was not done by Mamaoru, EPs 3,4, 8,9 and 10. Nevertheless, these episodes were still very enjoyable.

Undead Girl Murder Farce two leads have a very good chemistry, and that’s every part thanks to the dialogues and voice acting, Besides, The show introduces a captivating array of characters, featuring unexpected encounters with legendary figures such as Sherlock Holmes, Arsène Lupin, (voiced by Miyano which is a blast), and Moriarty. These iconic characters from literature inject a thrilling dimension into the series, seamlessly blending the supernatural with classic detective elements.

The soundtrack deserves special mention, as it effectively enhances the suspense and tension throughout the series. The haunting melodies and atmospheric soundscapes contribute to the immersive nature of the anime, effectively pulling the audience deeper into the mysterious world it creates.

Although I do not watch this type of shows for the action, and it is my first time watching a Lapin Track's work so I did not know what to expect, however, the animation sequences during intense action scenes are fluid and well-executed, enhancing the overall viewing experience.

Overall, it is a must see, especially if you are in to this type of anime, because sadly, we rarely get these nowadays, let alone a good one.

This isn't a formal review; it's more of a concise explanation. I suspect many people didn't grasp the ending of the movie, especially those who were expecting a lighthearted romance anime.

In reality, it was Naomi who was struck by lightning and declared brain dead all along, while Ruri was the one attempting to save him. Essentially, everything depicted in the movie was essentially a dream within a dream.

While both the OVA and the entire movie were animated in 3D, the scene before the credits shifted to 2D animation. This suggests that the simulation exists in 3D animation, while reality is represented in 2D. Hence, any ... scenes presented in 3D form aren't real – why else would they switch to 2D animation at the end? It wouldn't make sense otherwise.

Throughout the movie, Ruri was the same crow observing Naomi for three months. It was implied that whoever delves into the past can alter their avatar as they see fit.

Ruri ventured into the past to gather data and synchronize Naomi's memories in an attempt to rouse him from his comatose state. Additionally, she was the one who guided him using the crow avatar from the movie's beginning to its end.

Please note that this is simply my interpretation and shouldn't be taken as definitive.

I'm deeply dissatisfied with the first part of Re:Zero's second season.

While I appreciate the mystery aspect and the unanswered questions surrounding Subaru being the chosen one, which encourages viewers to think and develop theories, there's one crucial element that should have been explained long ago: how the checkpoint system functions. Arbitrarily placing Subaru wherever the narrative demands without proper explanation feels like lazy writing.

This season has numerous flaws; the characters' interactions come across as cringeworthy, particularly Subaru's, who now resembles a typical harem protagonist. Even Patrasche falling in love with him seems implausible. Furthermore, it's disheartening to see Subaru constantly blaming others for prioritizing their ... own well-being when he himself is prepared to go to any lengths to save Rem, Emilia, and his loved ones. Hundreds sacrificed their lives battling the Hakugei to protect Emilia, yet Subaru failed to consider sacrificing himself and triggering a restart to save her without further casualties. His overly dramatic displays of emotion feel insincere to me. Ultimately, people act in their own self-interest, and Subaru should recognize this reality.

Much of the drama in the show could have been avoided. For instance, Subaru's dramatic plea to Elsa to stop killing Beatrice feels pointless when he could simply restart after everyone else has died. It's disappointing and pathetic.

The dialogue feels unnatural and amateurish compared to the first season, which was a major draw for me. One of my favorite episodes was the one where Rem confessed her love to Subaru, which was essentially a prolonged dialogue between them and was executed brilliantly.