Hope everyone had a merry Christmas (Hanukah, etc) and a happy New Years.

And so 2011 comes to a close. A good year for school, conspiracy theories, and surprisingly, a pretty good year for anime. Which means it’s time for top 10s!

I’m glad anime isn’t dead yet. I even did my homework this year, as this list is compiled from a pool of 20 candidates. And those were pulled from like 50 shows I actually tried (and failed) watching. I even almost watched everything I wanted to (sorry Wandering Son and Mawaru Penguindrum)! And I played a couple good Visual Novels, and finally beat that damn .hack series (just in time for the announcement of the next installment ;_;), and wasted 60 hours on Skyrim. Good year.

So onward, into my favorite Chinese cartoons from 2011, and my endless ranting.

Note 1: Anime on this list are those that finished in 2011. That means that anime that have not finished airing yet were not considered for this list; conversely, anime that began in 2010 and finished this year are fair game.

Note 2: While I will avoid significant spoilers, it’s pretty difficult to review a show in any detail without revealing something. If you’re the type that’s afraid to watch commercials or read the back cover for fear of spoilers, you may consider skipping over entries you haven’t seen. If I do plan to spoil huge things, I will leave huge tags. You’ve been warned.

Decent Tier

10. Ben-To

• Studio: David Production
• Length: 12 episodes

Students duke it out at local supermarkets in an all-out war to claim half-price bento. I’ll admit, I had to read that one twice to make sure I’d read it right. First, I thought it was some dumb commercial. Then I thought maybe I misunderstood the context, and that it was just a one-shot, or an OVA, or something. It simply didn’t make any sense to me at the time that they’d make an entire anime series on that kind of premise. It was even more outlandish than the weird shit Japan usually comes up with, and I’ve seen my fair share of non sequitur anime and manga. Then I found out that yes, it was a full TV series. 1-cour. Fall 2011, look forward to it. Yeah, there was no way I was passing this up. And whether they liked it or not, everyone else that showed up to my house expecting Fate/Zero was gonna see it too. Red string of fate, etc.

The end result was…mixed. On one hand, I thought the premise was actually quite well done. It retained some sense of structure despite its ridiculous nature, and it didn’t feel like I was on a bad acid trip the whole time. At the same time, ­ Ben-To was careful not to take itself too seriously, something a lot of anime admittedly make the mistake of doing. Characters were introduced in a fairly organized manner, there was more diversity than I thought, and a lot of the voice acting was on the ball. The actual fighting, as I expected, was the highlight, somehow turning a stupid notion like half-priced bento wars into a respectable art. I didn’t end up wondering why everyone was fighting so valiantly over a few hundred yen when the hospital fees had to be higher, or why more people don’t just grab one in the confusion like Oshiroi always did. It was like watching shounen—you don’t ask questions, you just watch and enjoy—but with a fresh take on all of the tired tropes. From Shaga’s chopstick-fu to Orthros’ darkness-based shopping baskets to that ridiculous fish song, it was just fun to watch standard fighting in the most non-standard of environments. I suppose gg’s ever-questionable subbing decisions added some spice, and to be honest, I think their highly liberal translations actually worked well for a show such as this.

So if I thought the fighting was so great, why is Ben-To last on this list? Simple—because of all the other parts. I think there was some hesitation in the writing, as if the author was worried the premise really was too farfetched, and decided to play it safe rather than really push Ben-To’s strong points. The middle, in particular, was rife with fanservice and cheesy quasi-romantic dialogue, omitting for entire episodes at a time the whole reason I watching this show—the half-price bento. A couple of the characters, too, ended up being somewhat disappointing, particularly the one-sided Oshiroi-Ume couple. Instead of expanding, they ended up becoming defined by a single trait—Oshiroi’s terrible yaoi fiction and Ume’s psychotic lesbian tendencies. They had little impact in the end, existing separately in their own isolated segments. I don’t think it would have been difficult to write them into the action, perhaps as a comedic duo—Oshiroi bumbling about stupidly, distracting opponents, while Ume eradicates anyone who dare touch her. Too bad they ended up the way they did, and what’s more, they kinda wasted some real voice acting talent, particularly that of Yuuki Aoi.

I haven’t read the light novels, so I hope my complaints are just a result of adaptation friction. I really do hope Ben-To gets another season, because it just feels incomplete as it is. And when it does, maybe it’ll shoot for risky, half-priced grilled eel instead of the surefire soba.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Refreshing premise
• Some awesome fighting
• Skillful juggling of the ridiculous and serious
• Interesting soundtrack

Cons:

• Couldn’t resist adding fanservice
• Some failed character development
• Played it safe instead of pushing new ideas

9. Deadman Wonderland

• Studio: Manglobe
• Length: 12 episodes

This was a show I was quite excited about when it was announced; even though I was unfamiliar with the source material, the premise sounded awesome and Gene and Matt were vouching for its awesomeness-to-be. And at the time, it wasn’t like I had high hopes for anything else that season.

And indeed, Deadman Wonderland was pretty awesome. High-octane violence, conspiracy theories, and a tournament amongst mentally unstable death-row prisoners with superpowers. How could it not be awesome?

Deadman Wonderland didn’t quite make it for much the same reasons Ben-To didn’t quite make it. It didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, go all the way. The bleak outlook and high-pressure violence are somewhat reminiscent of older anime from the ‘80s, but it lacks what made them so memorable—style. In particular, the characters need style. Some of them certainly rise to the challenge, particularly Crow and Hummingbird (I’ve got a soft spot somewhere for murderous psychobitches, it seems), but the two most important characters, Ganta and Shiro, fall flat. Ganta falls in the weak, naïve, “boku wa” category of protagonists I’m gaining an increasing distaste for. They’re generic, boring, irritating, and too often they don’t develop like they’re supposed to. I try not to hate characters as actual people because it doesn’t allow me to view an anime objectively, but it’s hard when everything they do is cowardly or illogical. He’s a middle school student, I get it. Just don’t make him one! A badass show needs badass characters, or the contrast undermines the purpose. Shiro, in turn, is a pretty generic heroine—a strange, unbelievably moe little girl who’s childhood friends with the main character. And unsurprisingly, she succeeds in annoying me more than winning me over. They even casted the queen voice actor of cute little girls—Hanazawa Kana herself. I’m not knocking on her abilities, it’s just that I feel like she’s suffering from pigeon-holing the same way Kugimiya Rie is, and it’s not reflecting well. I’m almost dreading seeing her name on the voice cast for shows now, just because I know what kind of character she’ll be voicing.

The plot, as well, is left unconcluded. It’s clear that it’s setting up for a second season, one that may not come. I don’t know when producers will figure out that 1-cour adaptations don’t usually work, but I hope it’s soon.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Awesome fighting and violence
• Cool ideas and setting
• Crow and Hummingbird were cool
• Cool OP

Cons:

• Annoying lead characters
• No resolution of plot
• Animation is sketchy at times

8. Kami-sama no Memochou

• Studio: J.C. Staff
• Length: 12 episodes

What, a JC Staff show without Kugimiya Rie in it? Haha, I kid, I kid. But seriously, that was a terrifying possibility.

I feel like this show ended up pulling a fast one on me. The first episode left me endlessly intrigued. It felt like a combination of Denpa Teki no Kanojo and CSI. Serious, uncomfortable themes with flawed characters, with all that wonderfully improbable deduction based on innocuous clues. Not to mention there’s one of those old-fashioned gangs with a code of honor, which I’ve always thought were pretty cool. It looked like it wasn’t going to go all slice-of-life on me with a bunch of sexual tension between the main characters.

Well…it kinda did. Outside of that first episode and perhaps the last two or three, Kami-sama no Memochou ended up being pretty average. The actual investigations kinda became a background thing, with Alice just telling Narumi to do things based on some off-screen, poorly explained deduction. Instead of brilliance and that holy-shit-Bruce-Willis-was-dead 20/20 hindsight feeling you get from a good mystery, it’s mostly “Oh, I did some hacking and found some new information about the target, go check it out” from Alice, like an RPG quest or something. The show becomes more about the characters, which isn’t a bad thing per se, but character-driven slice-of-life is something that should exist on its own, not as a framework for a childish detective show.

It wasn’t a bad show, and I always remembered to pick it up every week. I was just hoping for more, and when I didn’t get that, it was a bit disappointing. But perhaps because of that, it’s got a pretty wide range of appeal, and I could probably recommend it to anyone.

Oh, and if you subsisted purely on Dr. Pepper and leeks, you probably wouldn’t live, much less look like Alice.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Again, cool OP
• Characters were quite diverse
• Old-fashioned honorable Japanese gangs are cool
• I want Alice’s room, minus the teddy bears

Cons:

• Not Sherlock Holmes
• Outlook on crime is pretty tame
• Was disappointingly not mind-blowing

Good Tier

7. Gosick

• Studio: BONES
• Length: 24 episodes

I certainly had my reservations going into this show. It sounded pretty cool—early 20th century mystery solving with a touch of romance. But then there was that heroine, who looked like a stuck-up, spoiled tsundere loli (yes, I checked the voice cast for Kugimiya Rie), who would probably spend the whole show covering up her budding feelings by constantly beating the shit out of the protagonist. So, okay, crappy heroine, but hopefully it would be made up for all the cool vintage detective work.

Color me surprised when the show turned my expectations on its head. Just like the last entry, the mystery aspect of Gosick is adequate, at best. I can see where Victorique is coming from with the solutions, I guess, but a lot of it seems contrived, and many of the clues aren’t even on-screen for the viewers to see beforehand. As a result, it lacks that sense of brilliance. The old-timey feel is nice, but it doesn’t justify the series, far from it. No, this show earns its place here solely by the efforts of that which I almost didn’t watch the show for—Victorique herself. She is certainly stuck-up, but she’s a lot more open than the standard tsundere loli.  It’s obvious she enjoys Kujo’s company, and she comes to terms with it pretty quickly. I’d also like to throw in a plug for Yuuki Aoi, who really does a fantastic job voicing Victorique. All of her emotions, from snarky to insecure to relieved, felt genuine (especially crying, something I think a lot of voice actors struggle with). Kujo does his part, too, putting up with Victorique’s snarkiness and seeing past her wall of insults. He’s fond of her, and he knows it, and thus Gosick avoids becoming just another tiring harem. Their relationship feels a lot more organic and realistic—not quite on the level of Holo and Lawrence from Spice and Wolf, but considerably more mature than your average high-school couple. And thankfully, BONES chose to capitalize on this strength, always making sure to bring Kujo and Victorique to the forefront. This prioritizing, making the mysteries the backdrop to the characters instead of the other way around, is what puts Gosick at number 7 and Kami-sama no Memochou at number 8.

Unfortunately, because Gosick invests so much time in Victorique and Kujo, a lot of the other aspects suffer a bit. The other characters feel like props and plot devices, even Avril, who serves as Victorique’s primary competition over Kujo. The antagonist, as well, is pretty vanilla—conquer the world just for kicks, have power, ???, profit, etc. Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy Gosick pushed its strengths instead of spreading itself too thin, but weaknesses are weaknesses, and I feel obligated to point them out.

The only other thing I want to mention is the ending, which had a considerably different atmosphere from the rest of the show. I don’t know if it was a lack of time or what, but a lot of the development and tone shifts seemed rushed. Perhaps if it had been given two more episodes, the transitions would have felt smoother, but I don’t have too many qualms over it. It could have been a lot worse.

While it’s a bit long, I would absolutely recommend Gosick to anyone with some time on their hands. Here is a good example of an anime that does it right, as per my criteria in my last post, and isn’t afraid to sacrifice some things to make other parts really shine.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Victorique and Kujo
• Smooth animation
• Prioritized correctly

Cons:

• Somewhat shallow supporting characters
• Holes in the plot and mystery solving
• Ending’s a bit sketchy

6. Usagi Drop

• Studio: Production I.G.
• Length: 11 episodes

Here’s a show that went completely under my radar when it aired in the summer. Later, while I was milling around the interwebs, I saw a number of usually cynical posters putting up some recommendations for this anime. Then I talked to Steve at the Celebration of Mines event, who reminded me I should see it.

Usagi Drop is about something that tends to be underrepresented in anime—parenthood. It makes sense, since anime is usually targeted toward children and young adults, and the original manga is categorized as Josei (the 15-44 female audience). It’s weird to watch a show I can’t personally relate to (seeing as, you know, I don’t have kids), but on the other hand, it’s really refreshing to see something that focuses on relationships that aren’t romantic. Usagi Drop documents the father-daughter relationship of single 30-year old Kawachi Daikichi and his adopted 6-year old Kaga Rin, who Daikichi learns is his grandfather’s illegitimate child. And despite myself, I couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

Granted, it probably isn’t the most realistic portrayal of parenthood. Kaga Rin is something of an ideal child, who doesn’t cause a whole lot of trouble and seems to be unusually understanding of Daikichi’s struggles to raise her. Their economic problems are also usually hand-waved; Daikichi has to work, of course, but they seem to live comfortably, and the unexpected addition to the family doesn’t seem to strain Daikichi’s wallet all that much.

Still, perhaps it’s for the better. Factors like money troubles or flawed characters would complicate the show, which might undermine its purpose, especially considering its short length. Usagi Drop focuses mostly on the positive aspects of parenthood as Daikichi and Rin grow together. Like an anime film, Usagi Drop presents characters that are likeable at face value. There’s little serious conflict between the cast—Daikichi understands the gravity of being a parent and does his best to raise Rin despite his lack of knowledge, and Rin does her part by being understanding when Daikichi screws up. It’s a very light and heartwarming show; that’s not always a good thing, I know, but I think Usagi Drop avoids becoming shallow or petty.

Strangely enough, while Usagi Drop is a feel-good show, it has the side effect of making you feel like a pretty shitty child yourself, as it reminds you of how much your own parents struggled and sacrificed to raise you. And on the flip side of the coin, it makes me scared shitless of becoming a parent myself, because if there’s anything in life I don’t want to fuck up, it’s that.

I honestly don’t know if I would recommend Usagi Drop to everyone, as it seems to be a pretty niche show. But if familial relations are your thing, give it a shot.

Pros:

• A well done execution of an uncommon topic
• Simple and powerful
• Pretty HNNNNG inducing

Cons:

• Somewhat unrealistic portrayal of parenthood
• Pretty average technical execution
• Manga apparently went south

5. Hanasaku Iroha

• Studio: P.A. Works
• Length: 26 episodes

A show about girls working at an inn. It doesn’t really get more Slice-of-Life than that, which is exactly why I liked this show. I know I’m usually pretty vocal about my distaste for SoL, but that’s usually in regard to shows that I think are mistakenly categorized. To me, Slice-of-Life is not 4-koma cute girls doing cute things. That’s moe, and no, I usually don’t like that. Slice-of-Life is the development of characters against the backdrop of normal life. That sounds a lot like moe, but the big difference is that whole “development of characters” part. Moe series characters, à la K-On! or Lucky Star, are static—it’s the background that changes. Slice-of-Life characters should be the other way around, a dynamic cast against a static background. Hanasaku Iroha, thankfully, is just that.

Moe characters don’t develop not necessarily because the writers are lazy or bad, but because they simply can’t. They’re manifestations of a single character trait, and when they’re brought together, they interact and bounce off each other. That’s where moe series come from. It can be funny in the short term, but it’s hard to keep that pace for a series. Slice-of-Life characters have to be different to develop—they need a real personality with several defining traits that behave more realistically and interact at higher levels. In other words, they need to be people, not ideas. Real people change by interacting with different people, and they learn from each other, for better or for worse. And people sometimes behave unexpectedly as they adapt themselves to situations instead of adapting situations to themselves.

The Iroha girls work at an inn, and this never really changes. It doesn’t have to because it’s perfectly conducive for character development as it is. The plot, too, is moved along at the characters’ pace. The setting and plot do nothing more than hold up the cast, which is all they need to do.

Matsumae Ohana, the protagonist, reminds me a bit of Chihiro from Spirited Away and Mirai from Tokyo Magnitude 8.0. I’ve always enjoyed characters that may begin emotionally weak or undecided, but develop a strong life philosophy over the course of the series. What separates a character like Ohana from the “boku wa” protagonists I mentioned earlier is that she actually learns from her mistakes instead of running from them, and she doesn’t wait until half the series is over to do it. Even by the third episode, Ohana is a changed person, and she continues to grow as meets new friends and reconciles with old ones. This character complexity seems to run in the family, as her mother and grandmother are not typical of anime. Satsuki, Ohana’s mother, is outwardly a pretty terrible parent; time and time again, she prioritizes her work over her daughter, seemingly with a clear conscience, and she practically abandons Ohana at the start of the show. But as we see her more and more, it’s clear she cares for her daughter. She’s irresponsible and impulsive, and she seems self-aware of her failings, and in her own twisted, questionable way, she tries hard to prevent Ohana from becoming her.

Hanasaku Iroha keeps this pace for its entirety, and never devolves into slapstick comedy. Even when the tone is light and the characters are being silly, the show retains a sense of dignity and grace. Similarly, even when serious topics are brought up, the animation doesn’t go monochrome with a screeching violin and piano duet to slam over our heads just how serious they are. Happy or sad, light or heavy—everything plays out on the same stage, they way it does in reality. In fact, it’s hard to break up Iroha into arcs or even point out individual episodes that are significant. It all feels like a single segment. With surprisingly few exceptions, events progress at a very steady, if somewhat slow rate.

Overall, I can praise Hanasaku Iroha for its consistency. There were never any terrible episodes, and I could always safely assume that every week would be enjoyable. Of course, this means it never did anything particularly amazing, either, which is why it sits in the middle on this list. But I much prefer consistency over uneven quality any day.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Realistic, dynamic characters
• Consistently good animation
• Consistently good writing
• …Consistent

Cons:

• That first OP
• Never bad, but never amazing either
• Minko was kind of annoying

Great Tier

4. Ano Hi Mita Hana no Namae o Boku-tachi wa Mada Shiranai

• Studio: A-1 Pictures
• Length : 11 episodes

For obvious reasons, I will refer to the title as Ano Hana from this point forward.

This is a difficult show for me to review. It’s heavily flawed, and the cons might actually outweigh the pros from an objective viewpoint. And indeed, it’s hard to talk about this show objectively. The plot is rather contrived, the drama is forced, and the writing is inconsistent. This show had a pretty divisive effect on viewers, much like Evangelion, and it’s easy to see why. I had considerable difficulty deciding where this show would appear on this list, as I could equally justify putting it as low as #10 and as high as #3. Ultimately, as this is my top 10, my subjective feelings shall outweigh my objective observations.

Ano Hana is a show that puts all of its eggs into one basket. Even more so than Iroha or Gosick, everything is sacrificed for the characters. If you ever take your eyes off of them and look around them, it can become rather laughable. There’s really no reason Menma can’t prove her existence to Jinta’s friends. The exact circumstances of her demise, and how she is able to interact with only Jinta, is never explained well. And if I had a dime for every time a character cried, I’d have enough to buy the Blu-rays. The exposition seems to have been constructed specifically for maximum drama with little regard to internal consistency or logic.

At first glance, the characters, too, seem like a weak point. They’re all pretty terrible people, refusing to deal with the past and venting their guilt on each other, and it’s easy to become impatient or angry with them. But to me, this is precisely why they worked so well. More than any others I saw this year, the characters here were real. Usually, I keep strict distance between myself and the anime I’m watching. If I get mad a character, I disparage the author for writing them that way. But when I watched Ano Hana, I got mad at the characters themselves. I wanted them to do certain things, I wanted things to turn out a certain way, and more than anything else, I wanted them to get back together. I felt like these were people I knew, and when they hurt each other, instead of bemusement, I felt anger or pain. I was immersed—for 20 minutes every week, I forgot I was watching anime.

I think that this is largely because the characters are more carefully written than they initially seem. Jinta is a natural leader, and puts his friends before himself, but he often forgets to consider their positions and feelings. Yukiatsu is a hard worker, but he tends to misplace his feelings and projects his anger onto others. Naruko is a kind girl, but she’s indecisive and easily influenced, and is unsure of her own identity. Tsuruko is intelligent and level-headed, but can be insensitive and selfish. Poppo is friendly and open-minded, but as a result, can be tactless and naïve. All of the characters have their strong points, but more noticeably, they are heavily flawed people. And they’re not simple flaws, either; they’re deep-seated, potentially debilitating issues. In short, they feel like real high-school students trying and failing to get over themselves, just like the ones you knew in real life, and that makes a lot of the painful dialogue in Ano Hana possible.

Because Ano Hana so blatantly sacrifices everything else to bring its characters to the front, it seems redundant to dwell too long on the plot and setting. The biggest problem I had with Ano Hana, ironically, is the character that’s supposed to connect everything together. Menma herself is as unrealistic and incomprehensible as the circumstances of her existence. She’s a moe, innocent little girl that seems completely isolated from the conflicts surrounding her friends. She oversimplifies the rather convoluted relationship the characters now hold, like a child wondering why we can’t have world peace. In a cast of otherwise realistic and complex characters, she sticks out as unusually standard, as if she accidentally stumbled into the wrong anime. She’s the focal point of everything, the girl everyone used to idolize, and I have no idea why. Luckily, she doesn’t participate in most of the character interactions, and so doesn’t detract too much from the story.

Overall, Ano Hana was a great anime for me, and I never want to see it again. Going through it once was a painful but fulfilling experience. And again, I don’t think I’d recommend it to many people. Somehow, it worked as intended for me, but there are many who saw it as unnecessarily melodramatic, and I can’t blame them. If you’re feeling adventurous, you might want to give this show a chance, but I won’t guarantee anything.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Well-developed, painfully real characters
• Good soundtrack

Cons:

• Underdeveloped plot
• A lot of forced drama
• Menma

3. Level E

• Studio: Studio Pierrot + David Production
• Length: 13 episodes

This show, on the other hand, is much easier for me to review. Though it aired last winter, I put off watching it until just last week, which I’m now regretting. This is a troll-tastic show, and I found it absolutely hilarious.

I can’t compare Level E to anything else, because it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever watched. The main character, Prince Baka (no, really, Baka is his name), is an unbelievably intelligent person who wants nothing more in life to manipulate people around him for his own amusement. And indeed, I think he takes after the author. Level E is, above all, unafraid of the viewers, and several times completely defies expectation. The first two episodes set up for a very serious confrontation, only to completely deflate everything and reveal the entire plot to be nothing more than a farce. Level E would have worked perfectly fine as a serious show, and would have probably made solid earnings, but the author seemed to find that too safe and boring. Instead, just like Prince Baka, he seems to derive pleasure from stringing along the viewers and tricking them. The writing is experimental, and as one reviewer put it, even audacious. I felt like a victim myself of Prince Baka’s antics, but it was all so clever and hilarious, I didn’t care.

Some may find the characters somewhat unlikeable and erratic, and indeed, I don’t know if I’d want to be friends with any of them. But in the end, everyone is a victim of Prince Baka, even himself, and one can’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration for his twisted genius. The voice acting is top notch, especially the male characters, who I don’t usually notice all that often.

I’ve heard comedy is the lowest form of art, but Level E flips that on its head. Unlike most comedies, which rely on slapstick and clever gags, Level E is just as elaborate as Prince Baka’s carefully crafted pranks. There are some slapstick moments to be sure, but the greatest part is that speechless feeling when they finally throw aside the curtains after entire episodes of careful manipulation. It feels weird to say that any comedy could be deep, but if there’s one out there, this is it.

There’s not much else I can say about this show, other than that I think everyone should watch it. In a sea of serious shows that make me think hard about life and connect with the characters, it’s refreshing to have one that’s so impeccably produced to make you laugh.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Unique humor crafted with love
• Comedy is fluid and consistent
• Characters and voice acting are great

Cons:

• Sometimes a bit too experimental
• Many characters end up being underdeveloped

God Tier

2. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

• Studio: Shaft
• Length: 12 episodes

MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING

Everything from the nature of the universe to the series’ ending will be discussed in detail here. If you haven’t watched the show, do not read further. And go watch the show.

/MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING

One year ago, when I didn’t know who Urobuchi Gen was, I watched this show entirely because I thought it was funny that Shaft was doing a magical girl show. That, and the name looked suspiciously like a parody of Nanoha. So I gave it a shot, expecting little more than avant-garde animation and some funny dialogue.

If there’s any show that’s convinced me you need to give something 3 episodes before passing judgment, it’s this one.

I hate Mahou Shoujo. I really do. To me, it’s the worst parts of shounen and the worst parts of moe combined together. It’s the power of friendship coming to save the day, replete with corny dialogue and bad character design, except all the guys are girls so instead of baseball episodes, we get beach and onsen episodes. So you could imagine my pleasant surprise when Madoka was revealed to be a deconstruction of the genre. Thursday just couldn’t come fast enough.

I wrote earlier that the true genius in Madoka was in the world it created, and I’ll go into more detail here. Kyuubey’s mahou shoujo system is cruel, almost excessively cruel, but this bitterness seems more an inevitable side effect rather than a forced plot device. Everything, from the unexpected manner in which the wish is granted to the final degeneration into witchdom, while inhumane, has a strange, vicious sense of justice and balance to it. After all, these girls wanted to transcend their human limitations and create miracles, and so the price they pay must be equally beyond their human capacity. This ambiguity is made possible by Kyuubey, who represents an alien morality incompatible with our own. While he is the antagonist, it’s difficult to classify him as a villain because he exists outside our judgment; villains are distinctly human in character and motive, and Kyuubey is anything but.  We, the viewers, are left somewhat unsure as to how we should feel about this world, which seems to reject any comfortable classification of good and evil. The mahou shoujo and Kyuubey are not opposing teams to cheer on, but equal actors on a stage. Because we are not encouraged to “root” for one side or the other, we don’t favor one perspective over another, and it’s easier to remain unbiased. We can only observe as the story unfolds, which maximizes its impact.

But the real genius, I think, is the effect on the characters. By themselves, the characters of Madoka are really pretty average. Madoka is cheerful and idealistic, Sayaka is mischievous and spiteful, Kyoko is assertive and headstrong, Homura is (initially) clumsy and shy, and Mami is calm and mature. It’s really easy to see these girls starring in a typical slice-of-life, and if they had, I may not have looked twice. But forced to suffer under the extreme circumstances of their environment, their characters become distilled, as if all of the exterior fluff has been evaporated away. Sayaka, initially the idealistic hero, becomes increasingly filled with despair and madness as she was forced to confront the rift between her fantasies and her reality. Homura is forced to suppress her weakness, donning the mask of a villain to fight a losing battle for the only thing that matters to her. Kyoko, no longer able to hold up her façade of independence, stubbornly refuses to accept her fate and sacrifices herself in a desperate attempt to save her friend from loneliness, a feeling she knows too well. In the absence of distracting normalcy, the characters suddenly become compelling.

The plot, too, is little more than a cycle of the inevitable, like an arc of Higurashi. Kyuubey contracts a squad of girls, they learn the horrible truth, they become witches, and Walpurgisnacht ends everything. It evolves naturally, with little need for forced development by the writer. That didn’t stop speculation from exploding, however; not on what would happen next, but on how the Madoka universe worked. If one could guess at the inner workings of the system, one could easily predict the flow of events, and so slowly revealing the secret clockwork was akin to advancing the plot, which left viewers riveted and impatiently awaiting the next episode. Plot problem solved!

I believe this is how Madoka was able to accomplish what it did—and in just 12 episodes, no less. It doesn’t try to overreach itself and fully develop a universe, a cast, and a plot, nor does it choose to focus on one at the expense of the others. Like a sandbox simulation game in which the player need only hit “Go!” to watch their creation develop, Madoka efficiently creates a world that is conducive to the development of both complex characters and a strong plot. Nothing feels out of place and no episode seems wasted, because as natural developments from the source world, that can’t happen. In a sense, it cheats the system—not that I’m complaining, of course.

However, Madoka does not accomplish this perfectly, and indeed, that’s probably impossible. The characters, while vivid and more than adequate to fulfill their purpose, do not exist independently of their universe for the reasons stated above. Rather than characters that are created separately and thus respond uniquely to their environment, the cast is a direct consequence of their circumstance, like seeds growing in a desert, and subsequently does not intrinsically possess merit. They are memorable not for their character, but for their suffering. This is why I wrote earlier that “the writers could well have dropped in any 5 characters from their reject bucket and the show still would have probably succeeded.” I was exaggerating at the time for some tongue-in-cheek humor, but the point still stands. Regardless of who the mahou shoujo were, they would still be forced to endure the same hardships and make the same decisions. This makes the characters feel more surreal and harder to relate to. We don’t find ourselves asking what we would have done, given their situation; we simply watch, as observers in a laboratory, as the inevitable occurs.

This doesn’t serve to detract from the experience, however; it simply changes it. Watching Madoka felt like reading a piece of classic literature—the real point is not in the literal work itself, but in the philosophical issues it brings up. Many difficult questions arise, such as the definition of humanity, the validity of our morality, and the relationship between “superior” and “inferior” beings. Furthermore, few are resolved in the end, leaving us to reach our own conclusions if we can. Madoka doesn’t try to work at an emotional level, but at an intellectual one. I see few anime attempt this, and I applaud Madoka for doing so. Rare indeed is the anime that forces my own life philosophies to develop.

You might notice that I’ve said very little concerning how the titular character fits into all of this, and that’s because she largely doesn’t—right until the end. Indeed, I’m still not sure how I feel about the ending. From a fundamental perspective, it’s emotionally satisfying. It can’t be called a happy ending, but the universe is at least less cruel than it used to be, and our human morality is more readily applicable. The mahou shoujo must still fight and die behind the scenes, and wishes are still not granted so idealistically, but that sense of utter futility is gone. In particular, Sayaka is finally able to die the way she intended—unsung, but still a hero. Her reasons for fighting were justified.

If this were any other anime, the ending would have been perfectly fine. But Madoka tends to demand higher-order thinking from its viewers, and so I am inclined to reciprocate. Simply put, Madoka breaks the theme. Up until this point, Kyuubey has repeatedly demonstrated that the mahou shoujo system is a zero-sum game. In exchange for a miracle, the mahou shoujo must pay an equal price. To grant hope, they must suffer despair, and short of suicide, there is no escaping this fate. This is the absolute law that allows Kyuubey’s system to work as intended. As a result, contracting with Kyuubey carries enormous gravity. Realistically, it’s a decision that the bearer will likely regret later, so she must decide carefully whether or not the happiness created is worth it. After all, Madoka exists as a deconstruction of the magical girl genre, showing that the naïve, idealistic desires that usually drive protagonists of such shows are weaker than they appear to be. Sayaka loses Kamijou. Kyoko loses her family. Mami loses her life. Homura repeatedly loses Madoka. In every other case, the magical girl in question ultimately loses the very thing they desired, driving home a savage message about selfish want.

So strangely, Madoka loses comparatively little. She completely rewrites the laws of the mahou shoujo system, and in doing so, rewrites the philosophy of the series. Her wish is fulfilled, one hundred percent as intended. As an added taunt, her wish even allows her to destroy her own witch, the very manifestation of the price she is supposed to pay. Her existence is erased, but she does not suffer despair. On the contrary, her self-worth is being constantly reinforced as she, an otherwise talentless girl, is able to help people in need—exactly what she’s wanted to do her whole life. She exists outside the boundaries of her own show. As the eternal flag-bearer of hope, she’s almost a reconstruction of the mahou shoujo protagonist  the rest of the show’s been deconstructing the whole time. Because she cannot understand Kyuubey’s alien morality, she renders it inconsequential and replaces it with her own. In a sense, this undermines the world Urobuchi Gen so carefully crafted, because we can now explain it with an incomplete human perspective.

But enough about the ending. It’s hardly even complaining—it’s literary criticism, only possible because the show itself encourages it. As I said earlier, if this were any other anime, I wouldn’t have even cared, so it’s hardly fair to crucify Madoka for it. This show is fantastic, plain and simple. It’s one of the only anime I’ve ever seen that caused me to question my own morality and redefine my principles. Even if heavy philosophy isn’t your thing, there’s something for everyone here. Madoka works wonderfully even at face value, speculating at how things will turn out or feeling sorry for the characters. The animation has Shaft’s signature style, defying the common expectation and daring to experiment. The soundtrack is one of the best I’ve seen (no surprise, Kajiura Yuki is one of my favorite composers). Together, the visuals and audio create a perfectly fitting atmosphere that really emphasizes the brilliant world Madoka takes place in. And hell, even if all you wanted a good mahou shoujo anime… Madoka delivered.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Characters, setting, plot: it’s all there
• 12 episodes—no wasted time
• Stellar technical execution
• Well-delivered, significant themes
• Encourages critical thinking

Cons:

• Characters feel surreal
• Ending is inconsistent with pervading themes

1. Steins;Gate

• Studio: White Fox
• Length: 24 episodes

Yes, this comes in first. To be honest, it took me a great deal of time to decide whether Steins;Gate or Madoka should take the top. In the end, though, I simply enjoyed watching Steins;Gate more.

At first glance, Steins;Gate appears to be a typical sci-fi drama. Slightly delusional college freshman Okabe Rintarou lives his life with his otaku friend Hashida Itaru and innocent high-school girl Shiina Mayuri, who run a strange little science lab in a small apartment. Add tsundere genius Makise Kurisu and a couple other quirky girls and we’ve got a recipe for a romantic comedy with pseudo-scientific hijinks. But an experiment with time begins to spiral out of control, and the tone takes a turn for the serious.

While Steins;Gate initially seems to be wasting its time with an unusually slow pace, it’s actually using its 24 episodes to the fullest, settling us into a peaceful, ordinary routine before uprooting it halfway through. Most significantly, the cast is able to develop slowly, which make their secrets feel like hidden aspects of their character instead of tacked on résumé bullet points. This is important, as it’s the characters, not the psychological thriller parts, which make Steins;Gate truly special.

Like Iroha, Steins;Gate maintains a fluidity and grace no matter what the situation on-screen, which gives the show an organic feel. The comedy is a part of the development, instead of isolated segments (complete with super-deformed character expressions, silly sound effects, and color-patterned backgrounds) that break the flow. The light-hearted banter and quirks feel like real parts of the characters, and the interactions, no matter how silly or serious, always work to build on their relationships. While the relationship web becomes complex, it feels natural, not incomprehensible. This odd combination of freshness and familiarity in the characters really lend them a vitality that I haven’t seen in a long time. But unlike Ano Hana, it’s the strong points rather than the weaknesses that make the characters real.

I really do need to applaud the voice actors, who I think nailed their respective characters. Miyano Mamoru has shown considerable talent in voicing a range of characters, and Rintarou is probably my favorite performance from him yet. Hanazawa Kana unsurprisingly plays the part of moe Shiina Mayuri well, but the result is a surprisingly sympathetic character. Like all the characters in the show, Mayuri is more complicated than her personality suggests, possessing an unusually accurate emotional perception (as shown in her heart-wrenching monologue in episode 21), and Hanazawa Kana does a great job walking that thin line between her cute exterior and conflicted interior. And so forth, with all of the voice actors able to flawlessly adapt their characters to the situation.

Unlike Madoka, the connection here is an emotional one, not an intellectual one. As I noted above, the characters in Madoka don’t feel quite human because they’re a product of their universe. The cast in Steins;Gate, by contrast, are entirely independent of the plot and setting. Regardless of the situation, the characters behave as they always do, and instead of simply responding to events, they shape them. Because the plot is driven by the characters, nothing feels inevitable, and that makes it much easier to relate to them. Also, since time travel is just a device and not a focus, it doesn’t interfere with the character development and needlessly convolute the plot, as it often does.

Just because the end result is different from Madoka, however, doesn’t make the execution inferior. Character-driven shows take longer to fully develop, but it is often more effective than a plot-driven or world-driven series. Steins;Gate employs the same strategy as Madoka, allowing the plot to develop naturally from the characters, but within a 24-episode context. The plot builds a context that allows the characters to interact and develop in the most natural way, never doing any more than it needs to. This does, unfortunately, mean that Steins;Gate is not without plot holes, and indeed, a number of inconsistencies have been pointed out concerning the nature of time travel and temporal consistency. Still, that’s not the point, and they do little to detract from the characters (not to mention it’s incredibly difficult for anything involving time travel to avoid inconsistency somewhere).

Finally, Steins;Gate takes care to ensure its story is not just an entertaining romp through time. It teaches us a lesson, perhaps the most important lesson that time travel can teach us, which is humility. Through his Reading Steiner, Rintarou must bear the burden of the fate of his friends. There is no “superior” timeline—no matter how he may change the past, Rintarou cannot craft a world where everyone wins. We all have things in the past we’d rather change, but we’re a result of all of our experiences, both good and bad. Furthermore, as humans, we cannot judge each other. To decide who lives and who dies, who is happy and who suffers; it is not our rightful place to tamper with topics as these. Steins;Gate does a wonderful job of depicting Rintarou’s development, who is constantly forced to make decisions beyond his capacity. Just as Rena from Higurashi said, the dealing of our hand is not ours to decide; our duty is simply to play it the best we can. Be happy with what is, not what with what could have been.

Whether or not I’ve adequately justified its place on this list in words, Steins;Gate remains for me the top anime of 2011. It really had everything I look for in anime—a complex, natural, loveable cast, a gripping plot, a satisfying conclusion, and a life lesson. It also had that extra charm, which is so hard to describe, that makes one forgive the series for any shortcomings. Madoka may have been a wonderfully enlightening experience, but Steins;Gate is an anime I’m going to remember for what it is for a long time to come.

tl;dr version:

Pros:

• Awesome characters, awesome dialogue, awesome interactions
• Well-handled time travel and sci-fi elements
• Engaging, character-driven plot
• Great soundtrack

Cons:

• Some plot holes and inconsistencies
• Animation could have been better
• Takes longer than usual to get into

Well, that was longer than I thought it would be. Now that 2011 is over, we’ve got 2012 to look forward to! Looks like some good stuff is coming out this season: planning on picking up Nisemonogatari, Another, Papa no Iu Koto wo Kikinasai!, Daily Lives of High School Boys (lol), Inuboku SS, and Black Rock Shooter.

Also, now that I’ve got a Dazzle, I plan on uploading videos of my Rock Band customs to YouTube. I also plan to get a RB Keyboard sometime this year, so I can chart the piano parts too.

I’ll see you all next semester!

(Rage goes in the comments below)