Now in its fourth volume, Saturn Apartments has evolved beyond the episodic formula of the early chapters—a repetitive grind where Mitsu would do a window-washing job, meet a new character, and learn a predictable life lesson. Instead, the series now shows how Mitsu is progressing in his young career, although its approach is so subtle that one could still accuse the story of (apparently) going nowhere. Yet with the major changes going on in Mitsu's job, and his acquaintances engaged in various personal projects, this accusation simply isn't true. Rather, the problem now is that it's going somewhere in a diffuse, roundabout way. Despite the soothing, delicate artwork and charming characters, the series still falls short of greatness because of its vague sense of direction.

Those who are patient enough, however, will eventually figure out what that direction is. Only after reading the volume in its entirety does Mitsu's career path become clear: the individual chapters, seemingly just points of interest plucked from his daily life, line up to show an upward progression from rookie to young veteran. Passing a qualification test, seeing a mentor consider his retirement, taking on a new employee as a subordinate, and hearing an assessment of his own progress—all these brief episodes add up to a maturation process for Mitsu, and more than that, they correspond to real-life experiences in the working world. That aspect continues to be one of Saturn Apartments's charms—that this outlandish sci-fi setting still involves real people living ordinary, relatable lives.

Unfortunately, this message of doing one's best and dealing with life's ups and downs often gets lost among other flights of fancy. The subplot about Sohta working on a "descent device" to return to Earth's surface would be an interesting storyline in itself, but it shows up too infrequently, and most of the focus is on Sohta and friends skulking about and trying to keep their workshop a secret from a newly moved-in neighbor next door. Imagine how much more exciting it would be if they actually talked about how the vessel worked, or the hazards of making the trip. Then there are the stand-alone moments that simply don't add much to the series: it's hard to see what can be gained from philosophical conversations with a disembodied voice in space, or encountering the lively employees of a steel processing plant. (A later chapter suggests that the steel workers might be a key plot point, but the payoff never comes.)

In contrast to the bumpy storyline, the artwork remains consistent from cover to cover, with delicate lines and short penstrokes forming the basis of a unique style. This vision of the future won't be mistaken for any other: where other series might go for glossy tech or post-apocalyptic detritus, Saturn Apartments sticks with gentle, hand-drawn shading and a soft afterglow. When Mitsu stares into the expanse of deep space, he doesn't see a frightening canvas of black: instead, space is an infinite field of light gray, strange and beautiful. Other background details are meticulously drawn in, from the little nicks and scratches on the Ring's window panels to the crowded streets that form the working-class district. Character designs are also distinct in their own way, with wide faces and squat bodies creating a cute, mascot-like look that defies one's expectations of the genre—but fits right into the "soft" style here. When it comes to panel layouts, the art isn't quite as daring, relying instead on the usual rectangular patterns. But for a series trying to capture the feel of everyday life, framing it in a familiar visual structure seems like a fitting choice.

There is such a thing as being too familiar, though, and the humdrum dialogue coming out of the characters' mouths exemplifies that problem. Yes, it makes sense that working-class folks trying to get by in a space colony would use ordinary, down-home language—but the writing here is so dull as to be completely forgettable. It seems that everyone in the series takes on the same bland tone of voice, and the only way to extract any personality from the characters (verbally, at least) is to get them angry or drunk. On the plus side, this simple style of dialogue means that the translation also comes across with ease: the lack of jargon words, tricky puns or even cultural references makes for straightforward reading in English. (It also means not having to worry about footnotes; everything you need to understand about the story is in the story itself.)

Saturn Apartments does some things very well—the delicate visual style, the subtle story advancement, the approachable characters—but it's still not as polished as it could be. Even after moving away from the "customer of the week" formula, Mitsu's window-washing adventures continue to drift off on unnecessary tangents, like talking to mysterious voices from space. Another sort of drifting off also happens when the storyline shifts to Sohta and his mysterious descent device; this intriguing subplot just doesn't get the in-depth treatment it deserves. Still, fans of the series' gentle artistry, slice-of-life storytelling, and its fanciful futuristic setting will be glad to know that Volume 4 continues in the same vein. But if the series could lock down on one storyline, forget the fluffy filler scenes, and show a little more emotion, just imagine how much better it could be.

The Original Post is Located Here: Saturn Apartments GN 4

Werewolves have been staples of supernatural movies and series for decades (and folklore for centuries before that), no doubt in part because of a perverse fascination with how such creatures embody the most bestial aspects of the human psyche. The visceral appeal of werewolves as literal monsters has made metaphorical treatments quite rare, yet that is exactly what this Production I.G/Transarts co-production based on an original novel by Natsuhiko Kyogoku (who also penned the source material for Requiem from the Darkness) has done. Instead of having its characters actually change into wolves, the story here focuses on the monstrous depravity that can lurk beneath human skin even in a tightly-regulated futuristic society.

To cast the story wholly or even primarily in light of its werewolf themes would be a misrepresentation, however. At its heart it is a sometimes-dark, sometimes-fun-loving, and usually edgy story about socially dysfunctional teens struggling to relate to each other and cope with the Big Brother-like system that they live in. In this future, where every home has internal security monitors, guard robots patrol the streets at night, youths are systematically indoctrinated into continuing to protect the system as adults, citizenship separates haves from have-nots, and spy cameras can be found everywhere, virtual education has advanced to the point where buildings that used to be called schools are now “community centers” and children who spend much of their lives physically isolated, with only one in-person day a week, are not so unusual. (And this is actually not so futuristic as it may sound, since fledgling virtual charter schools already exist in the U.S. which are set up in a somewhat similar fashion.) In this setting where anime is (gasp!) a thing of the past and blandly-packaged synthetic food has become the norm, many youths – most notably lead heroine Haduki – define reality in terms of their “monitors,” hand-held devices similar to current smart phones which also serve as keys and tracking devices. That only a handful, like discontented hacker Mio and disconnected Ayumi, appreciate the intrusiveness of the system's ever-watchful eyes is a subtle but telling clue about how far society has bought into this benevolently totalitarian system. (Background material suggests that this futuristic setting developed in the wake of a plague which killed off a large portion of humanity, but this point is never made clear in the movie.)

The system has flaws, of course, and it is within those flaws that the bulk of the plot lies. The movie opens in the dead of night with pink-haired Yuko being chased down and cornered by two mask-wearing teenagers sporting metal pipes, but instead of her ending up maimed or dead one of her attackers is slain. But by whom, and what happened to her? And does this really have anything to do with a recent serial killer case, or is this a separate matter? As those events unfold in sometimes-surprising fashion in the background, with a counselor of the youths (who has an unfortunate family history with serial killers) and a detective getting involved, Haduki, Mio, and Ayumi, with the occasional additional presence of Rei, engage in foreground socializing that is mostly harmless if not always within the rules. Hints of darker elements are in play even at this point, though, as the ones who actually know something about the situation involving Yuko seem evasive about it and Mio tosses out an off-hand comment about “destroying the system” if it displeases her enough – a comment which cannot be taken casually given the implication that she has the means to do it. An eventual rescue of Yuko shows that the seamier side of society can exist even within these tightly-controlled environs, but that ultimately proves to be only a stepping stone to the real core of darkness present in this scenario. And the secrets at the source of everything are disturbingly twisted surprises that harken back to much older interpretations of what werewolves are and do.

Although the movie does sport some shocking bursts of graphic violence, its horror elements usually play out more subtly, such as in security camera-level angles which give an unsettling feeling of constantly being watched or the disconcerting notion that the handheld devices that have practically become another limb for many could also become a regulating tool for the Powers That Be. Social commentary can be read into many scenes, too; the movie can even be looked at as something of a cautionary tale, although the artificial structure at the core of the system ultimately limits how far the movie can go in that direction. The story does also allow at least some room for pure fun, such as the attempts by Mio and a more reluctant Haduki to duplicate the dance steps of an early 2000s girl band or an eavesdropping Rei's reaction to overhearing that Mio had, at some point, put a transmitter on her.

Director Jun'ichi Fujisaku (who also helmed Blood+) effectively uses alternate camera angles and distorted video feed to promote the Big Brother effect and crafts a setting which has tastes of futuristic elements but is still heavily-grounded in current-day technology. Otherwise, though, artistry is the movie's weakest aspect. It is simply not as rich and vivid as fans have come to expect from full-budgeted anime movies; even many series-derived movies surpass it in that respect. Characters look flat and cartoonish, with little of characteristic anime features beyond a cutesy mecha that pops up late in the movie, and while the animation does serve up one nice-looking late fight scene, it more commonly gives the feel of watching a high-end Flash production. (And this despite the fact that, according to the Extras, motion capture technology was used in the animation of the music video that the youths are using for reference for their group project.) Out of the character designs, Rei's stands out for the wrong reasons, as she is always shown wearing a traditional Chinese dress to reinforce that she is an unregistered foreigner “from the continent.” Ayumi is the only other distinctive design, and he/she (see below) stands out more because of an androgynous look and dress style. The movie has no content that even approaches being fan service, so its TV-14 rating is entirely for a few very violent scenes.

The soundtrack fares better, although it is also a bit uneven. It suitably ramps up the tension in some scenes but makes some odd rock-themed choices at other times. The music video that the students reference, one late insert song, and the opening and closing themes are all performed by the all-girl band SCANDAL (who has also done themes for Bleach, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, and Star Driver); its members also have cameo voice acting roles as a group of kidnapped girls towards the end of the movie.

Sentai Filmworks' dub casting is predictable but solid. Hilary Haag naturally plays the role of the spunky Mio and Andy McAvin naturally plays the smarmy-sounding villain's role, both to great effect. Other casting choices are effective but unremarkable. The most interesting aspect of Sentai's translation is the constant reference to Ayumi as a boy, including giving him a male voice actor, despite substantial evidence that Ayumi is actually a girl; she is referred to as one in the included promo video and picture drama, and one late flashback shows Ayumi wearing a skirt and flashing a hint of an unboyish chest. Is this some confusion on Sentai's part, did Ayumi's gender change at some point in the production process, or is Ayumi meant to be a transsexual character? Nothing in the movie clarifies this.

Sentai is giving this release the deluxe treatment, with simultaneous DVD and Blu-Ray releases. They also give it a substantial set of Extras, which include interviews with the director, original writer, Japanese voice cast, and SCANDAL; the most interesting commentary in Fujisaku's interview is about the things he changed between the original story and movie version and his implication that any similarities which could be drawn between this and the American movie Stand By Me may be intentional. Other Extras include promotional videos, a movie digest, a promo film, and a picture drama which takes a more light-hearted look at the scene where Haduki first meets Ayumi. The Blu-Ray release uses DTS Master Audio 2.0 for both languages tracks and an AVC encoded 1080p 1.78:1 transfer. As befits a movie made in the digital HD age, the transfer is strong and artifact-free, with the limitation here entirely being the mediocre quality of the original artistry.

Loups-Garous does suffer from some logical lapses, such as how two of the main characters can walk more than 18 km in broad daylight in such a tightly-regulated society and not attract attention, but the parts that work more than balance out its occasional stumbles. Sentai Filmworks may have taken some big gambles in the past year with some of its acquisitions, but this is not one of them.

+ Effectively edgy story which capably mixes sci fi and mild horror elements.
- Cartoonish artistry, some logical lapses.

The Original Post is Located Here: Loups=Garous Blu-Ray

Do you have or know a young child whom you'd like to introduce to manga? Viz's VizKids line has a good series for you. While manga based on gaming franchises do not have an illustrious history, Hidenori Kusaka and Satoshi Yamamoto's kid-friendly romp makes for solid entertainment for the six-to-ten set that requires minimal beforehand knowledge of the Pokémon world.

Based on the Nintendo DS game of the same name, Pokémon: Black and White follows the adventures of two young teens named Black and White. Black is the adventurous boy while White is the brainy girl, stereotypes that are relatively common in children's entertainment for this demographic. Black has dreamed of becoming a top Pokémon trainer since he was old enough to have ambitions, and when his neighbor Professor Juniper offers he and his friends the chance to travel the country researching Pokémon for her pokedex (a digital Pokémon compendium), he jumps at the chance. The professor also supplies the three kids with new Pokémon – Black chooses Tepig, a small pig who snorts fireballs. While adult readers may have difficulty not reading the breed as “teh pig,” little kids are sure to be enthralled by the idea of blowing fire out of their nostrils. White and Gigi, her female tepig, don't make an appearance until volume two, and she is not quite as engaging a character. White runs BW, a Pokémon talent agency, and while neither her business sense nor Black's unbridled enthusiasm are unusual, she comes off as a more difficult character to relate to. This is, however, likely to change as the series progresses, and she is hardly a detraction from overall enjoyment.

Probably this series' greatest strength at this stage is its art. Satoshi Yamamoto's artwork is clean and clear without excess lines or effects. Artistic children will have no trouble tracing the images or copying them in their own drawings. Both people and Pokémon really move – there is a real sense that these are not simply static images on the page, but snapshots of life in motion. Yamamoto also does a particularly nice job of giving the Pokémon visible emotions. They do not speak, but their thoughts are abundantly clear, especially in the case of the two tepigs. Child characters are better drawn than their adult counterparts, and for the most part there is no sexualization of young girls, although White's shorts may raise more sensitive eyebrows. But there are no questionable angles or gratuitous moments when Black falls on top of White. These two slim books are 100% child-friendly, perhaps moreso than some of the toys in the pink aisle of most stores.

While Black and White is aimed more at boys than girls, unless your daughter is deep in the throes of the pony/princess/mermaid phase, it should appeal to Susie as much as Bobby. Black's enthusiasm and determination are catching, and when he uses his wits to solve problems, both genders can take away a positive message. This is actually one of the central conceits of the series – Black is so consumed with his desire to succeed that there is no room for anything but his dream in his head. So when he needs to focus, his dream eater Pokémon Musha gloms onto his head and eats his dream. This allows Black to see the world clearly, albeit in a strict black and white honeycomb. Children may not immediately grasp the message that just because you have to concentrate on something pressing doesn't mean that you have to give up your overall goals and dreams, but it may, if nothing else, give them a new way of looking at the proverbial “thinking cap.”

By the end of volume two, Black and White are up against a situation that really requires thought. Team Plasma, a group of older Pokémon trainers whose costumes call to mind medieval crusaders, is going from town to town preaching that Pokémon should be released back into the wild. They claim that captivity is cruel to the creatures, and that letting them go is the only fair thing to do. Black isn't sure about this, and he draws a parallel (without explicitly stating it) that Pokémon raised in captivity are like pets, and to send them out to fend for themselves is more cruel than kind. More astute children, or kids reading with their parents, will be able to understand this as an issue of pet abandonment, a serious problem in many places. This could generate good discussion about an important issue between adults and children, creating a venue for adults to introduce the subject. On the flip side, adults could also use this series to address the evils of dog or cock fighting, since Pokémon being set against each other in staged battles is, in some ways, at the center of the story. That device is probably the franchise's greatest flaw.

The first two volumes of Pokémon: Black and White are slim, with about 75 pages each. The price reflects this, with each bearing a price tag of $4.99. Not only does that make these books parent-friendly, it also enables children with allowances to buy their own books – a kid power trip if ever there was one. Overall this series is a great introduction to the world of manga for elementary aged kids – with its clean, clear art, engaging story with discussion points for the parent, and low price, Pokémon: Black and White is a good way to indoctrinate your child in the ways of manga.

The Original Post is Located Here: Pokémon: Black and White GNs 1 and 2

In Volume 5 of Kurozakuro, the back-story explaining just about everything was revealed: the origins and intentions of Zakuro, the ogre makers, the ogre hunters, and the purpose of the monsters themselves. But that feat of world-building arrived a little too soon, as there were still some loose plot threads (mostly a bunch of clamorous fight scenes between minor characters) that needed to be cleaned up. In this volume, however, all that heavy-hitting exposition finally pays off: Mikito takes matters into his own hands, Zakuro steps into the ring, and the opponents are not mere grunts but supposedly undefeatable "higher beings." It's the difference between an undercard boxing match and the headliner that people will pay hundreds of dollars to see. As this volume shows, sometimes that hype is worth every penny.

The fight in the first half of the book, between Mikito and ogre-maker Lacey, is where Yoshinori Natsume really pours in his personal philosophy as a creator. From the very start of the series, one of the key themes has been about the conflict between good and evil that rages in all of us, and this battle brings it to life by having the antagonist literally split into two. The imagery is somewhat ham-handed, but it drives the point home—and forces the reader to think about whether to root for the "good" bad guy or the "bad" bad guy. And since Zakuro himself has proven to be morally ambiguous, once he steps in and chooses which target to go after, it blurs those lines even further. Of course, just being an exciting, well-paced fight scene doesn't hurt either—but being framed as part of the eternal debate between good and evil is what really completes the scenario.

By comparison, the second battle is more straightforward in scope: Mikito must defeat Akebi, who commands a veritable army of homegrown ogres. But where the previous fight was mostly a meditation on the series' overall philosophy, this one adds some concrete details to the plot. It's here that things start to look like yet another linear battle manga: defeat a sequence of mid-level bosses, then go after the head villain and save the world. But sometimes that sense of structure can be a good thing; the previous volumes showed that "Random Guy A fights Random Guy B" obviously wasn't working. At least now Mikito now has a goal to work towards, and Zakuro himself continues to seek the power that he lost to the ogre makers. Meanwhile, a number of brief behind-the-scenes interludes—just enough to be tantalizing—promises new twists that will keep readers on their toes, even with the linear progression.

Still, none of these clashes would be nearly as convincing without the dense, shadowy artwork. It is in the deep blacks and spiky angles of Yoshinori Natsume's style that we see how good and evil are intertwined: a heroic character like Mikito can quickly become a terrifying monster, and even baby-faced Zakuro (arguably the cutest character in the series) can wield menacing, destructive forms of sorcery. Furthermore, the powers on display in this volume bring a whole new level of spectacle to the series: the difference between mere weapons and supernatural blasts of magic. Speedlines, explosions and other special effects are often rendered in a harsh, raw style, showing how the thrill of adventure also has its dark side. Because the artwork is so angular—even geometric, some might say—it's no surprise that the page layouts also rely on fairly basic rectangular patterns. However, there are enough full-page spreads to show that Natsume can demonstrate artistic flair when he wants to; it's just that murky shadows, brutal fistfights, and monstrous creations are where he feels most at home.

For all its accomplishments in the action genre, however, this series still ranks pretty low on eloquence. Most of the dialogue consists of the usual range of taunts, battle cries, and declarations of fighting spirit, although there's also a significant amount of exposition in the writing. Even the most complex discussions still use a fairly limited vocabulary, though, and while this is helpful in some ways—like keeping the pace of the story brisk—it can also be infuriating when Mikito and company seem to be the recycling the same five sentences over and over. (Try having a conversation about the nature of good and evil in this manner and see how far that gets in real life.) Because of this simplicity, though, the English translation is a breeze to follow. Sound effects have all been edited from Japanese into English, and while some of the lettering looks conspiciously out of place, the overall visual flow of the artwork is not lost.

This coming-together of various story elements in Kurozakuro couldn't have come at a better time. The previous volume may have had the big revelation, but this is where the planning and plotting comes through, with grand, superpowered fights between the main characters and dramatic advancements in the story. (Even better, the amount of time spent on superfluous subplots and behind-the-scenes action is proportionately reduced.) The series has always been about action, adventure, and boldly drawn fight scenes, but Volume 6 adds new depth to it all: ruminations on good versus evil, new layers of plot, and never-before-seen displays of power. This may be the most focused that Kurozakuro has been since Mikito's high school days, which by now seems like forever ago. If the series can maintain that level of focus and intensity, then things are definitely looking up.

The Original Post is Located Here: Kurozakuro GN 6

Though messier and less layered than the best of Bleach, this set does boil the series down to what it does best: fighting, fighting and more fighting. Hueco Mundo is a hornets' nest of enemies, and with the Espada finally entering the picture, this set is one giant run of painful, impossible fights. Enemies fall, allies fall, and the rescue of Orihime reaches its (first) crisis: it's as close as the Hueco Mundo arc gets to a payoff before being cut short by the inevitable filler arc.

Of course, the show does its best to bog things down anyway. It begins with the beginning of each episode, which thanks to the lengthy recaps tacked in front, can be as far as five or six minutes into a twenty-three minute episode. And then there's all the running. Even at this juncture people are still running down long, long corridors and worrying for long, long periods about their comrades. When not recapping or running, the characters are taking part in forced comic relief, which always drags on too long and with far too few laughs, or fighting fights that we really don't give a crap about. No fight is so important or exciting that it can't be intercut with a couple of ditchwater-dull wastes of time. Renji and Ishida's fight with Szayelaporro is probably the biggest breadcrumb in the Bleach meatloaf; big enough that its repeated use makes you start to wonder if the show is more loaf than meat.

And then you hit the meat. The conclusion of Chad and Ishida's Privaron Espada fights don't count, not because they aren't cool—Chad's in particular has some neat power-ups—but because they're of little import. The first real blood is drawn by Rukia, whose fight with Aaroniero reopens some old wounds and proves that the show still has the spine to act with deadly finality. Its conclusion also gives us our first glimpse of the rest of the Espada. Later a brief clash with another Espada gives some idea of how very far beyond team Ichigo the top tier of arrancars is, dealing out shocking defeat along with the usual coolness. The endless Szayelaporro fight even has its moments, when the elements line up right and Ishida's cerebral fighting style gets our blood up.

The set's centerpiece, however, is Ichigo's rematch with Grimmjow. The lead-up even manages to wake the series' plotting skills from hibernation. A rift opens in the Espada, the enemies' clashing goals start to work in Orihime's favor, and for the first time in ages the show is actually suspenseful, with Orihime left first to the mercies of two jealous arrancars and then to the self-serving machinations of Grimmjow. A little finagling later and the pieces are all in place, the opponents lined up and all interlopers eliminated (for the time being). At which point Bleach gets down to the business of kicking serious butt.

Like any good fight, the Grimmjow fight has its layers: Ichigo facing down his bloodier instincts, Grimmjow revealing the source of his obsession, Orihime coming to terms with what Ichigo has become in his pursuit of power. And like any good fight its appeal is ultimately very simple: the sight of two guys throwing everything they have at each other until one of them runs out. There is nothing held back here: no restrictions, no doubts—nothing but Ichigo and Grimmjow rocketing to the limits of their power. The thrill is primal and visceral—pure reptile brain. It's catharsis of a very potent sort, fuelled by all of those episodes that Ichigo spent worrying and training and stagnating. It's hard to argue with Grimmjow when he implies that Ichigo is only really alive when he's fighting.

The same could be said of Noriyuki Abe and his animators. The piddling fights are pretty cheap looking and you can tell that no one's putting their hearts into the comic interludes. The series' usually infallible eye for cool abandons it for large stretches of the Szayelaporro fight and while Hueco Mundo's architecture is pretty plain to begin with, it gets downright dull when there's a lot of running and wasting time to do. When there's real fighting to be had, though, Abe and his crew almost immediately catch fire. There are images in Rukia's fight, particularly once Aaroniero reveals his nauseating true form, that will stick with you whether you like it or not. You can practically taste the pride Abe and his team take in the Grimmjow fight, with its acrobatic showboating and heavy-hitting bursts of full animation. The clash of bodies and the rearrangement of landscapes haven't been so lovingly rendered since probably the height of the Rescue arc. Grimmjow, for his part, remains a paragon of manly sex appeal—even when he's transformed into a pseudo-mechanical humanoid panther-thing.

Shiro Sagisu's score does menace exceedingly well and comedy with a reasonable measure of competence, but like everything else this volume it really shines when it gets violent. The mix of symphonic muscle and guitar noise during the Grimmjow fight is as wild and free as the fight itself. Countering that is Rukia's episode, during which the dreaded sad piano returns, weighing everything down with ponderous lumps of musical cheese.

That particular episode is also the weakest link in Viz's otherwise fine dub, though only because it renders moot the dub's greatest weapon: namely Michelle Ruff's emotionally adept Rukia. As per usual the dub is well-scripted and well-acted, with the usual liberties taken with the comic content. Which still stinks regardless. Viz's effort here continues to be one of the very best for matching the original point-for-point. The notable exception is Nel, and that's a good thing as the difference mostly involves the removal of annoying vocal quirks.

If you're wondering where the usual omake went, they've been shaved off of the episodes proper and collected in the extras menu.

This may be as perfectly balanced a mixture of grade-A excitement and prime-cut frustration as you'll ever find. Watching the Szayelaporro fight intrude into the build-up to the Grimmjow fight is like some exquisitely crafted form of torture. Still, the torture is worth it for that last, three-episode bonanza of blood and destruction. There's nothing like going out on a high note. Now bring on the filler.

+ Action-packed; Grimmjow fight ranks among the show's very best.
- Padded to within an inch of its life; Szayelaporro fight ranks among the show's most annoying.

The Original Post is Located Here: Bleach DVD Box Set 10

Epic is a much-abused word. Anything anymore can be called epic. Fights, hairdos, intestinal distress. It makes it difficult when something truly deserving of the word comes along. Like the culmination of Father's scheme. The entirety of FMA:B could be called epic—it has the sprawl to justify it—but Father's plan is of such scale and its result so mind-bogglingly spectacular that it can't be called anything else. It's a plan, centuries in the making, to sacrifice an entire nation in order to consume god. If not epic, then what? It is so huge in scale, in fact, that a goodly portion of the series' finale comes completely unmoored from reality, ironically making this set's epic quality its greatest weakness. In pushing the limits of scale, parts of the final episodes come very close to being magical gobbledygook; and the twists and countermeasures of a huge magical gobbledygook battle are a lot harder to get behind than the turnarounds and counter-turnarounds of concrete military actions or smaller, more personal battles.

Whatever the finale lacks in other areas, though, it more than makes up for in sheer spectacle. There's no better chance than when the lid blows off of reality to let the imagination run rampant, and run it does. There are sights to be seen here that you quite simply will never see anywhere else. Continent-sized spells, eyes in the moon, planetoid shadow-men throwing open the doors of the world and pulling planes of reality together, and other, harder to describe things. This is what animation does best: bringing life to things that otherwise could only have existed in the imagination. The spectacle does a good job of toeing the line between comprehensible and incomprehensible, of establishing a process beyond human understanding while keeping its consequences clear. Not since End of Evangelion, perhaps, has anime created something so strange, awe-inspiring, and infuriatingly difficult to wrap your head around.

The set's real strength isn't its ending, though. Rather, it's simply the quality of its story, carried over from the last set. To the end the show juggles its storylines expertly, moving them forward quickly and confidently. It's hard to overstate just how great it is to see a show that doesn't dither, wander or hesitate. Every episode is a buffet of new developments, unexpected encounters, and meaty action, all moving relentlessly forward. Old grudges, new alliances; schemes that are coming to fruition, and those being torn apart by returning foes or armies of zombie mannequins—all play themselves out as the vast cast gets drawn ever closer and the doom of the nation looms. It's a pleasure in itself just to watch how the series pulls everything together, tying loose ends and resolving its many internal and external conflicts. It's an even greater pleasure to lose yourself in it and just ride the coaster, screaming all the way.

If you have a favorite character—and if you've been watching this long you'll definitely have one—somewhere along the coaster you're going to see them shine. Like its plots, FMA:B's characters also intersect and intertwine as they barrel towards their conclusions. Mustang meets Envy, and unleashes the fury that destroyed Lust. King Bradley rampages through the Briggs soldiers and butts head with Greed/Ling and Ling's retainers, proving all the while just how freaking cool a middle-aged dude can be. May, Buccaneer, Izumi, and the chimera brigade all make their contributions, Scar steals most of his scenes, and the younger Armstrong gets a fabulous fight. Against all odds (popular entertainment abhors unrepentantly strong women), the elder Armstrong maintains her unwavering strength and ambition throughout, while Ed proves that compassion is as powerful a weapon as anything and Al shows just how deep his protective instincts and fraternal devotion go.

And those are just the highlights. The sheer logistics of keeping the show's enormous cast in play is impressive enough, but even more impressive is how much it makes us care for them, down to the bit players and even the villains. Envy gets perhaps the set's most touching moment, and Pride's ultimate fate is as forgiving as it is viscerally satisfying. That's a goodly part of what makes FMA:B great: it may be epic in scale, but it's always human in its consequences, and those consequences are rarely predictable. Especially here, as it draws to a close.

It's been 64 episodes, so if you were going to get used to the soft spots in Funimation's dub, you would be by now. If, for instance, you don't like the way Ed Blaylock's Bradley compares to Hidekatsu Shibata's—and it isn't always well, so that's understandable—then turn on the Japanese track and move on. The dub isn't about to change its stripes at this point in the game. Which is a good thing in general. Chances are when the original hits you, the dub will hit you in the same place, and you can't ask more than that.

There are two important extras in this set: one a nice, lively commentary (for episode 64, featuring Mike McFarland, Maxey Whitehead, and Vic Mignogna), and the other a seven minute compilation of amusingly profane outtakes. A note on the DVD version: while the difference between it and the Blu-ray isn't likely to be revelatory, the monstrous spectacle of the finale and the everything-and-the-kitchen-sink showboating of Yasuhiro Irie's action scenes mean that you may want to spring for the HD version anyway. Every little bit extra helps when something is preparing to blow your eyes out the back of your head.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is hardly perfect, even as it hits its screaming peak. The designs remain somewhat inconsistent and the sponge-painted backgrounds will always be an acquired taste. There are also some hitches when combining multiple fights and if you sniff hard enough, you can definitely get a whiff of cheese off of the final couple of episodes. That has always been part of FMA:B's charm, though: that it never strove to be perfect. The series is content in its messiness. Which makes the completeness of its conclusion that much more remarkable. It's a stubborn viewer who'll leave Brotherhood without their fist raised and their heart full.

The Original Post is Located Here: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood DVD Part 5

Over the course of its storyline, Maoh: Juvenile Remix has taught us the usual lessons about making the world a better place: Stand up for what you believe in. Make use of the talents you're given. Beware the dangers of mob mentality. Never back down from a fight. But Volume 7, which closes out "Act One" with a much-anticipated showdown between young, idealistic Ando and rebel instigator Inukai, has one more shocking lesson to teach:

You don't always get what you want.

After all the struggle, after all the displays of bravery, the final stage of Ando's saga turns out to be the ultimate punch in the gut. Then again, with all the twists so far and the moral ambiguity of the story, is the outcome really that much of a surprise? The idea that Ando could just charge in, declare the power of goodness and friendship, and kick Inukai around would be a betrayal of the series' grim take on social issues—and it would've been too predictable a finish.

So to anyone who hoped to see a climactic, hot-blooded slugfest in this volume: sorry, that was already taken care of in Volume 6. A couple of earlier characters drop by to provide some requisite violence, but otherwise, these chapters simply deliver the inevitable finale: of course Inukai is going to summon his angry mob, of course Ando is going to try to stop him. Still, just because we see these plot points coming doesn't make the suspense and theatrics any less effective. (Besides, who can get tired of an orator as riveting as Inukai?) Then comes the final blow—exactly at the book's halfway point—slamming the door shut on Ando's quest.

Act Two of the series begins immediately afterward, with little brother Junya picking up the storyline where Ando left off. Naturally, it'd be too much to expect this arc to be as dramatic as everything that just happened, but that doesn't stop writer Kotaro Isaka from trying—and sure enough, a couple of suspenseful new plot threads emerge. The most pressing question for Junya is to find out what happened to his brother, and a tension-packed confrontation with hired killer Semi proves once again that harsh words and a gun with only one bullet in it can generate just as much excitement as an all-screaming, all-exploding massacre. Some points in the story still remain up in the air—what exactly is the point of Junya being extremely good at rock-paper-scissors? What's Inukai up to now?—but most likely these questions will be answered once the storyline has more room to explain itself.

Even with no large-scale battles planned, artist Megumi Osuga still finds ways to make the events of this volume visually arresting, from dramatic city lighting and crowd scenes at Inukai's gathering to the skewed, claustrophobic angles when Junya and Semi face off. Earlier problems like inconsistent character designs and stiff poses have been all but eliminated now that Osuga has gotten dozens of chapters of practice; in fact, Ando's final blaze of glory is almost poetic to look at as he strikes a defiant pose against Inukai. Osuga also makes good use of page layout as a expressive tool—an everyday conversation on the street might be featured in small to medium-sized panels, while a life-or-death argument will take up the entire page and be impossible to miss. Also a part of the artist's arsenal are the strong contrasts of black, white and grey in each scene; these harsh lighting effects are an ideal fit for the mood of the story.

If there's one major flaw with Maoh's visual presentation, it's the issue of having to dance around big blocks of text. Not that there's anything wrong with Isaka's writing style—the eloquence of Inukai's speech is something that other comic writers should aspire too—but trying to fit some of those big, paragraph-long bubbles alongside fairly detailed artwork can be a clumsy effort at times. Of course, one possible solution is to use the text as a visual element itself: slap some Kenji Miyazawa poetry out there in big, 96-point font, and let that be the dramatic finale! Fortunately, Isaka still has enough self-restraint to let other scenes speak for themselves, or at least keep the characters' lines short, like when Junya starts asking around for information. No matter what the word count, the English translation keeps things running smoothly, showing no fear of big words or complex sentence structure when the dialogue calls for it. However, the editing of sound effects (mostly during Ando's big showdown) isn't quite as masterful, and the English text sometimes clashes against the artwork where the Japanese text would have been.

The end of one saga and the beginning of the next marks a major milestone for Maoh: Juvenile Remix, and the good news is, it's been worth the trip so far. The final result of Ando's face-off with Inukai may not have been the ending everyone wanted—a little bit more fighting, maybe?—yet it still feels logical and inevitable. After all, the series has always tried to be surprising and thought-provoking, taking unexpected turns that will make readers question what it means to stand up for a cause. The new story arc that comes right after, with another protagonist leading the way, allows the series to continue tackling those questions from a fresh viewpoint. If the characters sometimes talk too much, if the momentum sags on occasion, those flaws are worth it for a story that continues to surprise and satisfy. Amidst the harsh black-and-white shadows, the sharp lines and corners, in the grit and grime of Nekota City, some heroes still search for truth. The truth of how to make the world a better place.

The Original Post is Located Here: Maoh: Juvenile Remix GN 7

Although Naruto took itself and its setting mostly seriously, it also showed on several occasions that ninja students in a dedicated ninja village is a premise ripe with potential for self-parody. Ninja Nonsense took a variation on this concept (setting it in a dojo instead) and turned it into a terribly funny gag comedy by going balls-to-the-wall in its exploration of the absurdity of its subject matter. This 13-episode 2006 TV series falls about halfway in between and suffers for it, as it seems unwilling to go far enough on its comedy side or take itself seriously enough for either aspect to fully succeed. The result is an innocuous and surprisingly clean effort which is typically mildly entertaining but only occasionally achieves better than that.

The quirkiness and general weirdness which underlies the series pervades every aspect of it, most especially its cast. Each of the core group of girls has at least one unusual affectation, and most have multiple. Azami is a boy masquerading as a girl who is a double-agent for the boy's school (facts which are open secrets) and a master information-gatherer, although his “according to my information” lines are commonly tagged with utterly unimportant side observations. Elfin-eared, traditionally-clad Tsukiyohime always appears in random places with miso soup which can contain visions of the future. Yusura is a cute young animal master who wears panda-like paws, a tail, and animal ears, has a cucumber-loving kappa for a boyfriend, and commonly spouts nonsensical animal-themed euphemisms. (“This could be as fun as a raccoon,” for instance.) Half-American Himeji is, of course, blonde, tanned, buxom, speaks strangely, is always hungry, and totes around all sorts of weapons, including shuriken-shooters. The only relatively normal one is the serious-minded, glasses-wearing herb specialist Shikimi. Himawari is also a comparatively normal character, a straight-laced earnest type whose one nod to revealed oddness is her penchant for recalling scenes from her beloved ninja TV series to guide her actions, while Hayato is a fairly typical put-upon teacher. The one other common character is Momota, an ugly, bare-butted, cat-like pet of Yusura who farts a lot.

The bulk of the series' antics consist of some mix of Hayato lamenting his situation or reluctantly coming to someone's rescue, Himawari striving to become a better ninja, the gang observing the two leads to see how they react to various situations, and participating in activities which give them a chance to exercise their ninja abilities and personal peculiarities. These can include building a giant karakuri (a type of mechanized puppet) for a contest with the boys' school, investigating rumors of an old Sage who lives behind a waterfall, repairing the Headmistress's broken automaton, taking a mountain hike, engaging in midterm exams with expulsion as a penalty for low performers, dealing with angered guardian spirits, hanging around (sometimes literally!) in a General Education classroom whose appearance regularly changes and sometimes contains ninja features like a collapsing floor trap, or engaging in a ninja-themed cooking contest (Valentine's Day chocolates shaped like fully-functional shurikens, naturally). These are all basically ninja-themed slice-of-life moments, which put an entertaining spin on antics that, in some cases, would be terribly clichéd in a regular setting. Lurking in the background are a lame side plot about a Turtle Ninja and his/her (gender is unclear) young subordinates, who are intent on offing Hayato but aren't too competent at it, and regular ruminations about whether Himawari is merely devoted to Hayato as a Master or in love with him and how Hayato feels about her. The latter is more ground in observations by observers than intensive self-examination by either lead, however.

Notice that “fighting” does not come up anywhere in the above paragraph. That's because what little serious combat the series does have is brief and definitely more incidental than a focal point; in this respect the action-intensive opener is misleading. The same could be said of the series' prurient content. Over the course of thirteen episodes the only scenes which could be called fan service are a handful of brief panty shots and a couple of shots of Shikimi in a bikini, and the former do not seem intended to titillate. Even the one hot springs bathing scene is quite tame as long as one does not stop to consider why a grown man would be comfortably sitting in a hot springs with several underage female students.

The series is directed by Shigenori Kageyama, who might be best-known to veteran American fans for helming the early '90s OVA Mask of Zeguy, and was animated by studio ARMS – which makes how tame it is all the stranger, since ARMS has built its reputation on vastly more sordid content. It looks little like any of their other projects from the mid-2000s, with less refined character designs that hedge more towards caricatures in many cases but definitely succeed at presenting a colorful (both literally and figuratively) and very distinctive-looking cast; even minor background characters often look unusual, such as one bald girl. Hayato is suitably handsome but otherwise the most ordinary-looking character of the bunch, which is to be expected given that he is the only non-ninja, while on the other extreme Momota looks more like a mini-demon than any real animal. The background art creates very curious village and academy designs, with an eclectic mix of modern and traditional architectural styles, while the natural vistas on display are so scenic that the area could rake in the tourism dollars if it wasn't devoted to ninjas. The animation covers its shortcuts better than most and is up to more typical ARMS standards.

A nimble and enthusiastic musical score ranges from traditional Japanese sounds to piano melodies to gimmicky instrumentals commonly used to play up silliness in animation and sometimes blends elements of all three. It does a great job of playing up light-hearted fare and gives at least some credibility to the more serious and sentimental moments. Regular opener “Taiyo no Kakera” gets each episode off to an enthusiastic start, while regular closer “Guruguru” provides a sweet and lightly playful finish. Sound effect support is also excellent.

The Japanese dub is one of the most distinctive of recent years, as many of the characters simply do not sound like fans would normally expect these types of characters to sound, especially the very bizarrely-tweaked Himeji and the unusually deeply-voiced Himawari (whose seiyuu was, surprisingly, only 17 at the time). Part of this could be the casting selections, as many of the principal seiyuu have limited or no significant anime credits beyond this franchise. The bigger names present also sound atypical; even astute anime fans may not recognize Aya Hirano as the voice of Shikimi, as she performs this character quite differently than her more prominent roles. While some fans may find the overall vocal styling annoying, it certainly sticks out.

Section 23 is distributing this title under Switchblade Pictures' Maiden Japan label, which belies an apparent earlier intent by the label to focus on adult-oriented titles, as this one is kid-friendly enough that it carries an entirely appropriate TV-PG rating. It instead suggests that the label is just focused on picking up cheap, low-demand titles. (And boy, do these former ADV entities seem to be in love with the year 2006. . .) It comes subbed-only with three Extras:the only Extras: clean opener and closer and a medley of character theme songs set to series clips.

Himawari! never elaborates about its most prominent dramatic event: the scene at the beginning where a ninja rescues a very young Himawari from a plane that is going down in flames. Why was she on that plane in the first place and being treated as a test subject? Why were the pilots ordered to dispose of her once they knew they couldn't get her to her intended destination? This is apparently explained in the sequel series, Himawari Too!!, which Maiden Japan also has licensed and is expecting to release at the end of the year. That these thirteen episodes do not even faintly hint at the backstory seems strange, though viewers can probably make some educated guesses about the truth based on certain unrelated events that happen in these episodes. The mystery of Hayato's birthmark, and what exactly that means, is touched on a little here but is something else apparently explained in the second series. For now, viewers will have to be content with the interesting notion of genetically-engineered prospective ninjas and the oddball antics they enjoy.

+ Has some interesting ideas and quirks, can be funny and satisfyingly sentimental.
- Lame subplot, rarely distinguishes itself in any aspect.

The Original Post is Located Here: Himawari! Season 1 Sub.DVD

If Sakura begins this fourth volume of Arina Tanemura's historical magical girl tale with conflicted loyalties, she certainly isn't going to end it that way. Carried away by her older brother Enju to his secret palace, Sakura wonders if she has finally found where she really belongs. Enju seems so kind, his helpers so solicitous, that it seems to her as if she is at last where she belongs. This is, of course, before she meets Rurijo, the mysterious hooded figure who dotes on Enju. Maimai, a human Enju transformed into a moon creature, warns Sakura away from Rurijo, telling her that the woman is Enju's lover. Sakura is bemused, but seems to understand. But that night, unable to sleep, she ventures to the bathing pool, where she finds an unknown woman with a familiar face – Rurijo.

This volume actually doesn't pertain so much to Sakura as to her double. Sakura spends most of it recuperating from Rurijo's attack, while the other takes over the action. Rurijo's origins as a stone given human form by Enju make her vicious streak where Sakura is concerned perfectly plausible, at least within the familiar realms of manga. Her decision to disguise herself as the princess to infiltrate the imperial palace and get to Aoba is unsurprising, but the venomous nature of her relationship with Sakura is. This goes beyond what we typically see in girl-to-girl rivalries, with Rurijo displaying a ruthlessness and disregard for the princess' life that tends to be reserved for seinen fare. In point of fact, Tanemura discusses this in her freetalks, stating that she was hoping to give this cycle of the manga a more shonen feel with epic battles. While she doesn't quite achieve that, she does present us with a villain with clear motivations and a thirst for blood such as we have not previously seen in her works, not even in Claude from Kamikaze Kaito Jeanne.

On the subject of Tanemura's comment sections, they are mercifully absent for most of the volume. Few mangaka can top her for inane chatter, and the book reads much more smoothly for their absence. There is an interview in the back by one of her assistants that reads a bit like the minutes of a mutual admiration society meeting, but on the whole the literal authorial voice is blessedly not present.

Artistically Tanemura has outdone herself in a few cases. Sakura's first appearance in moon princess garb is breathtaking. The fabric is palpably drawn and the design borrows from both ancient Chinese and Korean imagery. That does seem a bit odd given that Sakura's magical girl outfit is more modern than old world, but the picture is so lovely that it is easy to overlook the inconsistency. Another stand out image is the cover to the book's first chapter, with Asagiri's delicacy captured in a Thumbelina-style moment.

This volume contains a lot of back stories, so it may be fair to say that it is not a prime example of the plot moving forward. Rurijo's tale is perhaps the most central to the main story, and it is a familiar one with its “Coppelia” overtones. But also provided are the backgrounds of moon minion Maimai and the adorable Asagiri, both of which are quite well done. While Maimai's story is arguably not central to the ongoing tale of Sakura, Enju, and Aoba, it does showcase a kinder side to Enju...or so we think. In reality what it displays is his ability to manipulate, being nice to others for his own selfish purposes. The story may actually call to mind another Viz title, Togari. Whether this is an example of Tanemura trying for that shonen tone or simply a coincidence is unclear, but the casual cruelty of Maimai's past turning into the present is striking.

Asagiri's background is given in a side story, or rather, a short story originally published elsewhere and collected here. The tale is presented as a bit of a fairy tale, with Asagiri's journey from free being to sideshow freak to devoted companion chronicled delicately. It doesn't feel so much like a side story as a regular chapter in the manga, possibly a testament to Tanemura's sense of timing in including directly after Maimai's past, as it shows the two very different directions they took their lives based almost solely on who they met at a critical point.

Most of this volume's action is in the past, but the last chapter sets the characters up for a grand battle for the princess. It is easy to overlook the lack of forward movement in the plot, but it still may be more rewarding to read this and volume five together when it comes out. Sakura Hime is setting up to be an intricate story of loyalties and loves, and while Tanemura's dramatic and sparkly style of manga isn't for everyone, those who are finished reading Sailor Moon and are waiting for Madoka Magica may find that this will hold them over just fine.

The Original Post is Located Here: Sakura Hime: The Legend of Princess Sakura GN 4

“Tragedie Lyrique,” which concludes in the first chapter of this volume, reveals the mystery behind Cinnabar's death while uncovering the tragic secret of one of the other nuns. Unfortunately this secret has to do with Lucille, or rather, someone's jealousy of his skills as a chanteur. The Abbey has had a hand in the creation of the new strain of guignols, and Lucille fears that his former partner in the Grand Orchestra, cat-mask wearing Berthier, has had a part in it as well. This, and the aforementioned nun with a secret, leads the group to visit Duke Rhodonite. At his manor house the story really picks up.

This volume gives readers the most plot we've had in the series thus far. Among the important revelations are the origins of the guignols and some facts about Lucille's family. One of the other Orchestra members also has his past revealed, with surprising results all the way through. Just when you think you know what's going on with a character, Yuki drops the floor out from under you again. She is not above pulling this more than once per volume with the exact same character, and somehow she makes it seem exciting rather than melodramatic. The tension she keeps flowing through the panels is likely the reason for it. Pages are crowded, with details, screen tones, and text leaving very little blank space. While it can make it difficult to follow the panels smoothly, it also gives an almost hyper quality to the story. In a work of Gothic suspense, that's a good thing, or at least most of the time it is.

Although sometimes overwhelming, Yuki's artwork is one of the highlights of this volume. The guignols, the doll-like zombies at the heart of the series, continue to be visually stimulating. Bearing a distinct resemblance to ball-jointed dolls, the guignols achieve a scariness that the rotting zombies that lurch through other stories can't quite mimic. Dolls, particularly ball-jointed ones, can be frightening in general because of their near-human appearances. Now imagine them walking after you, life-size and thirsting for your flesh. Barbie wants to eat you and make you just like her.

In other areas, the artwork can be distracting. Yuki can't seem to settle on a time period, with, in a single frame, characters wearing clothing from the mid 18th century, the late 19th century, and Gothic Lolita. These styles aren't mashed together – separate characters are dressed in period-specific outfits. If you know your historic costume, it's a bizarre sight, giving the series the air of a costume party. And yet, with all of this mishmosh, we're meant to accept that Eles prancing around in pants is clearly cross-dressing. In a world where women sometimes wear modern police uniforms with mini-skirts, this is asking a bit much of the readers.

Cross-dressing is a prevalent theme in this book, with four separate characters doing it. Again, this beggars the readers' suspension of belief a bit, as do some of the names. By this point readers should be mostly okay with a man named “Lucille” - after all, anime has done that to us before, in Baccano! and The Tower of Druaga - but when we're expected to accept that “Garnet” is clearly a female name while “Carnelian” is unquestionably male, it gets a to be a bit much.

Happily the story moves so fast, and the other details of it are so engrossing, that gender issues can be partially overlooked in the rush of information. The truth about the guignol virus tells us much about both the characters behind it and the world of the story, ultimately providing more serious plot development than the previous two volumes combined. Throw in a heartbreaking (and gut-churning) back story and some hints about Lucille's true nature, and you have a winning entry in an already fascinating series. Kaori Yuki is a worthy successor to the women who fostered the Gothic novel back in the 18th century, and despite some oddities, Grand Guignol Orchestra just gets better with every new volume.

The Original Post is Located Here: Grand Guignol Orchestra GN 3