In this holiday season, it’s important for us to take a look back on the previous year and reflect on what’s passed, what we’re thankful for. Some people are thankful for their family, others for their success. Me? I’m thankful for moe.

For a lot of people, K-ON! is nothing short of a secret shame, a guilty pleasure. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no problem admitting I like it. The arguments that are brought up for and against moe series are plausible in and of themselves; that it devalues anime, that there’s no plot, that the characters are nothing but cute blobs of no personality, and these ideas are evident in K-ON! in spades.

Now, here’s the thing. In this day and age, people have expectations of anime. Yui and company may not be so linear and psychologically engaging as to compare to the likes of Eva and Mononoke, but that in and of itself raises the point that there’s nothing wrong with simply sitting back and watching a fluffy slice-of-life anime with no expectations other than to be bombarded with cute characters pondering on life’s foibles. I never once in my life thought I’d hear Japanese schoolgirls carrying on a conversation about Hendrix, Jimmy Page, and Jeff Beck, but of course, I also never thought I’d be writing a retrospective about an anime about music-playing schoolgirls.

Oddly enough, for a show about a music club, the music takes something of a backseat, which is a valid complaint. Yet, at the same time, it goes back to the idea of shows like these (and to a lesser extent, shows like Haruhi) being simple by design and execution. Depending on who you are, this is good or bad; there is often a need for people to find some sort of substance in their shows, and while “blob” might be the sort of substance one thinks of when watching K-ON!, it may not be the one people are searching for.

I grew up as one of those viewers who thought that I had to be able to expound on the themes and profoundities of every show I ever watched. Though, as I watched more and more shows, I came to the realization that such does not always have to be the case. And sitting back and watching the high-school adventures of these four young girls, I remembered that all over again.

Thanks, Yui. Happy Holidays to you and yours, folks.

-Dave

I should start by saying that for its juvenile feel and rote gameplay, I really did enjoy the original installment of Blue Dragon.

That said, Blue Dragon Ral Grad is a rather far cry from that coming-of-age RPG you may have played on the 360. In fact, were it not for Ral Grad sharing the same moniker, you’d likely have no idea they were linked.

You’ll be caught by the art first; if the characters look familiar, they should. The pencil behind Ral Grad is none other than Death Note’s Takeshi Obata, whose artistic styles should be known to anyone who’s ever watched Adult Swim at any point in their life.  This time, his artwork is the result of a collaboration with Tsuneo Takano, who (as far as I can find) has no other literary credits to his name than this.

Ral Grad is noticeably more darker and grittier than its primary source; the story follows (appropriately enough) a young boy named Ral who, thanks to the shadow dragon (Grad) bound to him has been sealed in complete darkness for the first fifteen years of his existence. His father, the lord of the castle in which, and by whose order Ral is sealed, notices a growing threat from the Shadows – the demons which are prevalent in their world of Sphaelite – and to combat them, decrees Ral’s release unto the world. Understandably enough, Ral’s first action is to kill his father before journeying out into the world to prevent its downfall.

This all likely sounds like your typical epic-length shonen fare, and for the most part, it is – minus the epic-length. The entirety of Ral Grad spans a scant 29 chapters, sparing it the eventual monotony of many of the other series with which it shared pages in Weekly Jump. It’s nice to see a series that tries to pull off your standard “world-saving  journey” story, and does so in a relatively timely manner. For those of you craving action and suggestive situations, Ral Grad’s got it in spades. You’ll notice quite a bit of violence here, as well as varying states of undress (You’ll notice the main character is completely nude for the first two chapters, though his long hair conveniently covers up all the bits and pieces.)

On that subject, one of Ral Grad’s better aspects is also one of its more noticeable flaws. The short length of the series also means that a lot of the chaff is fast-forwarded. Aside from Ral, the villain, and a few of the supporting cast, you won’t really be able to eke much personality out of the characters here. Even then, it seems a bit scant. Ral is known for his philandering and not much more, whereas his tutor and comrade, Mio, seems to have more of a fleshed-out characterization than Ral does. As another consequence,  you’ll notice that the conclusion is more of a punch-out ending than anything you’ll see on Sealab 2021. It should be expected, given the length, but still feels like a bit of a letdown.

For anyone who’s ever suffered from any form of attention deficit, Ral Grad’s length should suffice to be able to tell a fantastic story before we run off chasing shiny things. Not surprisingly, the shortening of the story results in some harsh cuts to its offerings, but by and large still manages to maintain a semblance of solidarity. If shonen fantasy is your bag, and the standard offerings in Jump and CN are just too long to hold your eyes, this may be right up your alley.

Dave’s Rating: 7 out of 10 California rolls (Don’t tell CJ, but I ate one when she wasn’t looking. ;_;)

It never ceases to amaze me just how anime can make me feel like I’ve crossed lines that I shouldn’t have, regardless of the subject matter.

There's absolutely no way this could be taken out of context. Nope...

Thus, we have To Aru Kagaku no Railgun, a series that thus far has managed to make me run the gamut of reactions from “Oh my, did she do that?” to “Wow, that’s really awesome”. (I should start by noting that I haven’t read much of Majutsu no Index, the main installment from which this series is spun-off. I know a bit of the specifics, but not enough to review this as anything other than a standalone anime.)

The series is set in Academy City, a town which seems to alternate between utopian and Orwellian – everything is bright and cheerful, yet at the same time sprinkled with a small dash of Big Brother-esque elements. The city is policed by Judgement, a group composed of students with psychic powers who act as the city’s moral committee. A lot of the characters and themes are appropriately enough carried over from Index, yet Railgun manages to branch into something all its own.

Those aren't Tachikoma. Honest.

That being said, and as I’m sure many are already aware, the part of this series that speaks loudest are the (ahem) mature overtones between leading ladies Mikoto and Kuroto. Mikoto, for the most part, plays the straight man, albeit in a very laid-back manner. She’s very focused on what she does, yet at the same time attempts to be as normal as a middle-school girl with psychic powers can be. Kuroto, on the other hand, is where the fanservice comes charging in. She’s got a decidedly underhanded determination to get in with Mikoto, and even in the first two episodes implements this in a variety of ways. The members of the supporting cast, at least thus far, make a conscious attempt to display personalities of their own, which is uncommon in a lot of series these days.

Saten, in a bold attempt to stamp out piracy.

The first two episodes, oddly enough, almost directly contrast with one another. The first episode is the standard introductory episode, replete with your standard stage-setting, pantsu (of course), and mixed with a fight that’s visually impressive at the end.

The second episode, however, eschews any sort of action in favor of an almost-puzzling amount of exposition in relation to the relationship between Mikoto and Kuroto, as well as some windows into their personal history and (of course) Kuroto’s twisted fantasies. It comes much too early in the series to call it a welcome change of pace; in fact, I hope to see a little bit more balance between the two extremes of story plot vs. personal plot on future episodes. Of course, knowing what I know about To Aru in general, that may be a bit too much to ask.

The second episode DID contain this almost painful-to-watch gem, however...

All things considered, the opening paces of Railgun are more than worth a watch if you’re willing to approach its considerably bipolar attitude towards its storyline and characters with nothing less than an open mind. This isn’t something I say often, but I’m actually looking forward to the next episode.

-Dave