Hell Target - Cult Manga Review

The Japanese Bubble Economy of the 1980s was a heady time, and the direct-to-video boom—known as Original Video Animation or OVA—represented the Wild West of creativity. Tucked away in the shadows of giants like Akira or Bubblegum Crisis lay a whole world of lesser-known but nonetheless worthwhile works that deserved more than to be forgotten. Some demand a retrospective reappraisal, and Hell Target is one of those titles that deserves a second look. Directed by Motosuke Takahashi and produced with a modest but focused budget by Nakamura Production, Hell Target does not try to reinvent the wheel. Instead, it leans into the dark, claustrophobic tropes of the era to deliver a tight, atmospheric experience.

The story follows a rugged crew of space explorers sent to the planet Inferno to investigate the disappearance of a previous research vessel. What they find is a desolate, nightmare world where the environment itself feels hostile. As they delve deeper into the mystery of the missing ship, they realize they are not just dealing with mechanical failure or a harsh climate; they are being hunted. As the plot unfolds, the film shifts into a ruthless survival horror. The crew is systematically picked off one by one, but the threat is two-fold. On one hand, you have aggressive, terrifying lifeforms native to the planet that seem evolved specifically to dismantle human beings. On the other, there is a compelling layer of tension introduced through another entity with ill intent. As the film progresses, you are not just watching a monster movie but the psychological breakdown of the crew. There is a strange scene when the remaining two characters have relations while the monster is on the loose, which is admittedly jarring, but the tone otherwise remains consistently bleak.

One of the most striking aspects of Hell Target is its vision of the near future. In an age where modern sci-fi often trends toward the sleek, polished aesthetic of films like Wall-E, Hell Target is a refreshing throwback to the industrial and utilitarian. The technology here is heavily inspired by the used future look of Ridley Scott’s Alien. You can expect CRT monitors flickering with green text, heavy hydraulic doors that hiss and groan, and bulky space suits in grease-stained corridors. Everything feels lived-in, heavy, and most importantly, prone to breaking down when you need it most. This clunky tech heightens the tension, as there are no magical holographic shields here, just thin layers of vibrating metal between the crew and the void.

To be fair, the animation is functional rather than extraordinary. You will not find the fluid, high-frame-rate wizardry of a big-budget feature film here. However, where the film lacks in technical flash, it excels in world-building. The atmosphere of Inferno is oppressive, and the lore behind the mission feels grounded. The creators managed to build a sense of dread that punches far above the film's weight class. I had a genuinely enjoyable time with Hell Target. It is a gritty, unpretentious slice of 80s horror that understands its influences perfectly. It remains a bit of a hidden gem in the anime community, but it absolutely deserves more recognition from fans of lo-fi sci-fi.

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

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LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

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LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Wicked City - Cult Manga Review

In the early 90s UK manga boom, there was a fear that "Japanimation" was corrupting our youth, and Urotsukidōji: Legend of the Overfiend was the absolute poster child for what parents feared we were watching on VHS. Joining this infamous shortlist was 1987's Wicked City by Yoshiaki Kawajiri—the very definition of late-night, top-shelf anime salaciousness and the kind of movie people assumed you’d only find nestled between Ninja Scroll and Akira in a dusty comic shop somewhere in Soho. However, it was everywhere, including Virgin Megastore, HMV and Forbidden Planet, as well as my precious Rodney's Books and Games. I never watched the film at the time but thought I'd give it a look now to correct my old-skool manga knowledge gap. So, how does it fare?

Well, the film wastes no time setting its dark tone, giving us THE iconic spider-woman scene within the first five minutes—one I'd heard about from friends over 30 years ago but had never experienced until now. Our protagonist, Taki, thinks he’s getting lucky with a beautiful woman in a bar, only for her to transform into a terrifying arachnid demon, sprouting massive legs from her torso to pin him down. It’s a legendary piece of body horror that instantly hooks you, setting the stage for a pretty straightforward, hard-boiled noir affair where Taki, a member of the secret "Black Guard," must protect a fragile peace treaty between the human world and the demon realm.

The animation is gorgeous, fluid, and has that signature Kawajiri sense of style that perfectly evokes the era; it looked head and shoulders above most other studios at the time. We get heavy shadows, stark neon blues and purples, and framing that feels incredibly cinematic. While Demon City Shinjuku kept its edge-lord tendencies relatively reined in, Wicked City dives straight into the deep end of problematic territory. The film is packed with gratuitous sex and graphic sexual violence, featuring tentacle assaults and demon violations that definitely push past simple fanservice and into genuinely uncomfortable territory.

It’s a product of its time, and the characters fit those 80s archetypes perfectly: Taki is your quintessential trench-coat-wearing, chauvinistic slacker who happens to be a badass with a gun, while his demon partner, Makie, actually gets some great moments of agency and holds her own in a fight, even if the script constantly subjects her to distress. This is all brought to life by voice acting that is highly indicative of the era's localization quality—which is to say, the dub is gloriously wooden. Taki sounds like a man trying to read a grocery list while doing a flat Clint Eastwood impression, and the ancient mystic they are protecting sounds like a bizarre, screeching caricature. It is stiff, clunky, and completely drains the tension from otherwise horrific scenes, but honestly? I love it. It adds a brilliant layer of unintentional comedy to an otherwise grim, self-serious movie.

Overall, whilst problematic for its gratuitous sexual violence, the lush animation, iconic framing, and that legendary opening five minutes make it almost mandatory viewing for fans of peak bubble-era Japanese animation. It’s well worth the 80 minutes or so of your time... just maybe don't watch it with your other half.

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Record of Lodoss War - Cult Manga Review

Back in the heady days of the early 90s, when anime was still widely referred to as "Japanimation" in much of the West and finding new titles meant making an expensive pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet or hunting through the back shelves of local comic shops like Rodney's Books and Games in Barking, one series stood above all others as the ultimate gateway to fantasy: Record of Lodoss War.

While this period was famous for cyberpunk dystopias and hyper-violent horror, this 1990 13-episode OVA series took a completely different path, giving us unadulterated high fantasy. I never got around to watching it at the time as it was prohibitively expensive and quite difficult to find but strangely, despite this, it always cast a long shadow. Because it was so formative to the genre, it regularly dominated the pages of the various manga and anime magazines I bought at the time. Decades later, I finally sat down to see if the reality matched the legendary reputation.

The story centres on Parn, a headstrong but incredibly green young warrior eager to clear his late father's dishonoured name. When his peaceful village is attacked by goblins, Parn sets off on a quest to defend his homeland, quickly assembling a classic, ragtag party of adventurers along the way.

What starts as a localised skirmish, however, quickly spirals into a continent-spanning crisis. The dark island kingdom of Marmo is launching a massive invasion of the civilised realms, orchestrated by shadowy conquerors and Karla—a mysterious "Grey Witch" who has been pulling the geopolitical strings of Lodoss for centuries to keep the world in a state of perpetual, balanced warfare. It ultimately falls to Parn and his newfound companions to stop the forces of darkness, solve the riddle of the witch, and prevent the resurrection of an ancient, destructive deity.

Watching the series [null]today, I found it immediately clear that Lodoss War is steeped very much in the high fantasy Tolkien tradition. You’ve got ancient dragons guarding legendary hoards, grumpy, axe-wielding dwarves, majestic but aloof elves, and enough magical doodads and cursed artifacts to fill a D&D dungeon master’s almanac. That tabletop game's DNA runs incredibly thick through its veins as it follows a classic heroic party's journey, but the show treats its lore with a level of sincerity and weight that makes the world of Lodoss feel genuinely ancient and mythological rather than just a collection of tired tropes.

What truly elevates this OVA into the tier of timeless classics, though, is its absolutely beautiful art style. This is peak 90s hand-drawn cel animation, and the visual design is nothing short of breathtaking. The production team went all-out on world-building, and it shows in the amazing attention to detail on the backgrounds. Every moss-covered stone in a forgotten ruin, every flickering torch in a sprawling castle hall, and every sweeping shot of the Accursed Island feels like a living, breathing painting. There is a texture and a lived-in warmth to these environments that modern, sterile digital animation often struggles to replicate. It doesn't just provide a backdrop for the action; the scenery actively tells the story of a war-torn continent.

Holding this vast world together is a deeply likeable crew of characters. While Parn is the naive centre, the show thrives on the chemistry of his party. You have Slayn the wise wizard, Ghim the rugged dwarf, Etoh the loyal cleric, Woodchuck the cynical thief, and, of course, Deedlit—the high elf who practically launched a thousand anime elf tropes with her iconic long ears and fierce grace. Watching this group grow from a localised defence force into a tight-knit found-family tasked with saving the world is incredibly rewarding. You become genuinely invested in their survival, which makes the stakes feel incredibly real when things go sideways—and things do go sideways in quite spectacular fashion.

The show delivers some of the most detailed fight scenes of its era, easily rivalling the kinetic energy of 1986’s Arion. The choreography is top-notch, swapping out the abstract speed-lines of lesser shows for fluid, weighty physical combat. Swords clash with a [null]satisfying metallic crunch, shields splinter, and the spellcasting feels appropriately cataclysmic. Whether it’s a small-scale skirmish against a band of goblins or a massive, multi-army clash against the forces of Marmo, the action is beautifully framed and meticulously animated. The dragon fights in particular are legendary, capturing the sheer, terrifying scale of these beasts as they tear through landscapes.

Overall, the Record of Lodoss War OVA is a masterclass in classic fantasy animation. It’s a warm, comforting blanket of a series for anyone who loves epic quests, beautiful artwork, and a proper old-skool adventure.

If you haven't revisited it since the VHS days—or if you're a newcomer like me, finally looking to see where modern fantasy anime found its footing—it is well worth your time. Grab a cup of tea, dim the lights, and let yourself get lost in Lodoss.

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Azumanga Daioh - Cult Manga Review

Back in the early 2000s, there was a massive paradigm shift in the world of anime and manga. While the late 90s had conditioned us to expect giant robots, existential cyberpunk dread, or high-stakes shonen battles, a quiet revolution was brewing and leading the charge with pure, unadulterated absurdity was Azumanga Daioh.

Adapted from Kiyohiko Azuma’s brilliant four-panel manga (the massive compendium of which sits proudly on my shelf), this 2002 series practically laid down the blueprint for the modern "slice of life" genre. Looking back at it now, it remains a wonderfully nostalgic, cute, and delightfully quirky masterclass in character-driven comedy. It seemed the perfect fit for the optimistic new millennium that many of us were envisioning... I wonder how that turned out?

At its core, Azumanga Daioh doesn’t have a plot in the traditional sense. It simply tracks the lives of a few vastly different girls navigating their three years at an ordinary Japanese high school. The magic lies entirely in how these distinct personalities bounce off one another. You have Chiyo-chan, the ten-year-old child prodigy who enters high school early but remains adorably naive; Sakaki, the tall, athletic, and intimidating girl who secretly just wants to cuddle soft cats (who routinely bite her); Tomo, a walking weapon of chaotic energy; and Yomi, her long-suffering, diet-obsessed best friend.

As the show is structurally tethered to its short-form comic roots, the episodes are broken up into bite-sized vignettes and so this format allows the animation to indulge in a barrage of cute non-sequiturs, drifting away from reality at a moment's notice to pivot into bizarre dream sequences or random, disconnected gags. Admittedly, because the humour is so relentlessly surreal and experimental, most of these sketches hit the bullseye—just not quite all of them. A few jokes linger a second too long or dive so deeply into abstract Japanese wordplay that they might leave you scratching your head. But when the comedy lands—which is about ninety per cent of the time—it is absolutely hysterical.

While the entire ensemble is fantastic, the crown jewel of Azumanga Daioh is undoubtedly Ayumu Kasuga, universally known by her nickname, "Osaka." Transplanted from her hometown to Tokyo, she starts out with the classic, quirky country bumpkin shtick, but her regional background quickly takes a back seat to her utterly unique psychological wavelength. Osaka operates on a severe time-delay; her brain exists in a permanent, hazy state of low-battery daydreaming that provides the show with its absolute best moments.

Some of my favourite bits in the entire series stem from Osaka's bizarre internal "contemplations." Whether she is genuinely wondering if Chiyo-chan’s pigtails can be detached to serve as flight propellers, or staring blankly into space imagining the inner lives of stray animals, her logic is as flawless as it is unhinged. And then, of course, there is the legendary hiccup incident. Watching Osaka succumb to a sudden bout of the hiccups, only to instantly terrify herself with the urban legend that having one hundred hiccups in a row will literally kill you, is a masterclass in comedic escalation. Her increasingly desperate, space-cadet attempts to cure them before hitting the fatal number is peak Azumanga, perfectly balancing adorable vulnerability with laugh-out-loud weirdness.

There are other stand out vignettes - be it the Summer holiday break away to Chiyo-chan's pied de terre, the ultra competitive sports day, Osaka's confusion between escalators and elevators, Chiyo-chan's adorable penguin costume for Cultural Festival Day, the meeting place in a crowd being Sakaki as she is the tallest person - that will speak to you and the universal experience of going to school and hanging out with friends.

Rewatching Azumanga Daioh today feels like stepping into a time capsule of a gentler, weirder era of anime. It doesn't rely on high stakes, fan service, or complex lore. Instead, it invites you to sit back and enjoy the mundane, distorted through a beautifully eccentric lens. If you are looking for a comforting, laugh-out-loud slice of life that celebrates the joy of doing absolutely nothing with a group of loveable weirdos, this classic is still mandatory viewing. Pop the kettle on, embrace the non-sequiturs, and mind the cats.

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The Spirit of Wonder - Cult Manga Review

Having known of The Spirit of Wonder: Miss China's Ring only through vague advertisements in publications like Manga Mania and Anime FX, finally diving into the 1992 OVA felt like uncovering a beautifully preserved artifact.

The film is immediately captivating, presenting a cozy blend of intricate retro-futurism and intimate, small-town human warmth. The setting of a quiet seaside environment, where advanced scientific endeavor operates directly alongside the mundane daily life of a local ramen shop, suits this duality perfectly. This unexpected juxtaposition is the very heart of the narrative as this eccentric world is anchored by its three principal characters.

Miss China runs a successful local restaurant, but her tenants, the senior scientist and inventor Mr. Breckenridge, who works in a rented room upstairs, and his protege Jim, have a grand plan to create an aerospace vehicle. The tragedy and comedy of the piece emerge because their brilliant ideas and ambitious dreams are consistently outpaced by their budget and practical capacity. It is precisely against this backdrop of impractical genius that Miss China becomes the vital emotional and logistical anchor. Her efficient, grounded sensibility contrasts sharply with the airy, optimistic dreams of the inventor, frequently making her the one to manage their debts or provide common-sense solutions. While the explicit plot concerns a mysterious ring that may hold the key to the success of the latest rocket launch, this ultimately functions as a vehicle for character study and atmospheric exploration.

The OVA’s true strength lies in its execution. The animation, characterized by soft colors, detailed machinery designs, and unhurried pacing, prioritized immersion over high-speed action. This approach allows the viewer to truly appreciate the sense of quiet, optimistic pursuit inherent in the scientist's vision. Director Mitsuru Hongo created a sweet, optimistic and intricate film about the power of dreams and community.

Overall, Miss China's Ring stands as an excellent example of high-quality, pre-digital OVA production, offering a sophisticated, character-driven narrative rather than a spectacle, and is highly recommended for viewers who appreciate thoughtful science fiction grounded in intimate, human settings.

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Angel's Egg - Cult Manga Review

When people describe a piece of art as a "mood," I think films like the 1985 cult classic Angel’s Egg (Tenshi no Tamago) is precisely what they mean. Directed by Mamoru Oshii and featuring the ethereal character designs of legendary artist Yoshitaka Amano, this film is far more than traditional animation. It is a haunting, minimalist journey that prioritizes atmosphere and sublime beauty over standard narrative, creating an experience that feels like a dark painting come to life.

The story itself is deceptively simple, unfolding within a surreal, Gothic-dystopian landscape. A young, nameless girl wanders the desolate world alone, fiercely guarding a large, mysterious egg tucked beneath her clothes. Her solitude is eventually broken when she meets a young man carrying a cross-shaped weapon. He chooses to accompany her through the ruins, but his presence introduces a quiet tension as he repeatedly asks her to break the egg open. As they travel, the two engage in sparse, cryptic dialogues that delve into ambiguous theological philosophy, touching on heavy themes of faith, loss and existential meaning.

Rather than relying on traditional exposition or dialogue, Angel's Egg lets its striking visuals and eerie incidental audio do all the heavy lifting. The film's environment is dominated by deep, ink-black shadows and a fiercely unique aesthetic that masterfully utilizes darkness to build tension. This eerie imagery is perfectly paired with a discordant, atmospheric score that amplifies the overwhelming sense of isolation. Because there is so little dialogue to guide the audience, you are forced to completely immerse yourself in the film's acoustic and visual landscape, interpreting meaning or just taking in the audio-visual overload.

Overall, Angel's Egg is an enigma that defies easy explanation. It leaves viewers not fully knowing what is going on or what to make of its dense symbolism, yet that is precisely why it is so easy to love.

There is something deeply arthouse, hypnotic, and oddly calming about its slow, deliberate pacing. It stands as a beautifully haunting fever dream that lingers in the mind long after the final frame fades to black.

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Patlabor WXIII: A Cult Film Review

Having experienced the first two entries of the trilogy, I approached the final installment of Patlabor with high expectations. The original Patlabor remains a masterclass in cyber-terrorism with provocative religious undertones, while its sequel serves as a profound meditation on the veneer of peace and military ethics. Naturally, I was eager to return to the world of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Special Vehicles Unit 2 and their iconic Labors. However, even a cursory bit of research revealed that WXIII is widely considered the "black sheep" of the franchise. As a fan of cult cinema, I was undeterred; I went in forewarned that this might be a misunderstood trailblazer or, perhaps, simply a disappointment.

WXIII: Patlabor the Movie 3 departs significantly from the high-stakes political thrillers of its predecessors, offering instead a gritty, atmospheric noir centered on a traditional police procedural. Set against the perpetually rainy backdrop of Tokyo Bay, the narrative follows two detectives who serve as the film's true heart: the grizzled, cynical veteran Takeshi Kusumi and his younger, more earnest partner, Shinichiro Hata. Kusumi - navigating the investigation with a persistent leg injury and a dry, snarky wit - provides a grounded contrast to Hata, whose personal life and budding romance with a mysterious researcher become inextricably linked to the case. Their dynamic anchors the story in a human reality often missing from mecha-heavy narratives.

As they navigate bureaucratic red tape and industrial secrets, the duo uncovers a truth far more organic and unsettling than mere mechanical sabotage. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the film, as its technical merits are undeniable. The animation remains top-notch, and the stunning background art provides essential worldbuilding alongside necessary moments of contemplative calm.

The primary point of contention for many fans is the absence of the core cast; the SV2 crew members are relegated to the periphery, eventually providing "heavy metal" backup only in the final act, approximately seventy-five minutes into the runtime. While the series' protagonist, Noa, makes a brief, wordless cameo earlier on, the lack of the trademark character dynamics explains the film’s divisive reputation.

Overall, I found WXIII to be a somber, slow-burn mystery that is exceptionally well-told. It moves beyond the giant robot trope to explore the ethics of scientific progress and the unintended shadows cast by a rapidly evolving city.

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Patlabor 2 - Cult Manga Review

A short while ago, I finally sat down and watched Patlabor: The Movie. I found that it stood out as a titan of late-80s anime and deservedly was oft cited in the same breath as Akira, Ghost in the Shell and Ninja Scroll. So, how would the sequel fare?

Mamoru Oshii’s Patlabor 2: The Movie is less a film about giant robots and more a haunting autopsy of the modern nation-state. Released in 1993, its vision of "gray zone" warfare - where the line between peace and conflict is blurred by misinformation and economic complicity - has only grown more chillingly relevant.

The story is set in a near-future 2002 and follows the Tokyo Metropolitan Police's Special Vehicle Section 2 as they are drawn into a web of domestic terrorism and military intrigue. When a missile attack on the Yokohama Bay Bridge - initially blamed on the Japanese Self-Defense Forces - turns out to be a masterfully staged phantom strike by a rogue former UN peacekeeper named Yukihito Tsuge, Tokyo is plunged into a state of emergency. As the city is slowly occupied by its own military and the rule of law dissolves into martial law, detectives Goto and Nagumo must navigate a landscape of misinformation and political maneuvering to stop Tsuge from shattering the illusion of Japan's post-war peace.

The film was a direct response to Japan’s controversial role in the 1990 Gulf War. While the nation’s constitution prevented military intervention, the government essentially “bought” its way into international good graces by contributing $13 billion to the war effort. Oshii saw this not as pacifism, but as a parasitic extraction: a nation consuming the stability and oil prices secured by foreign blood while maintaining a domestic mirage of moral purity.

At the heart of this complex geopolitical story of intrigue is the character Shigeki Arakawa. During a hushed, atmospheric boat ride through Tokyo, he delivers the monologue that defines the film's philosophical thrust:

"Look at this city. From here, it looks like a scene from a dream, doesn't it? But it’s a mirage. In this city, people have everything. They’re convinced that this peace will last forever. But this peace... it’s a peace bought at the expense of wars being fought elsewhere. We export the reality of war and import the fruits of its labor. We call it 'peace,' but it’s a fraudulent peace. They say that an 'unjust peace' is better than a 'just war.' I used to believe that. But once you’ve experienced a peace that’s been bought with a 'just war' happening somewhere else—in a place you can’t see—you start to realize how thin that line really is. If the foundation of our peace is the suffering of others, then our 'peace' is nothing more than a crime. And yet, I’d still take this 'fraudulent peace' over a 'just war' any day. Because in a 'just war,' everyone dies for a lie. In an 'unjust peace,' at least we can pretend the lie is true. Maybe the front lines will come home eventually... but until that day, isn't the view beautiful?"

This sentiment found a striking modern echo in Mark Carney’s recent speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos. Addressing the rupture of the global order, Carney suggested that our international stability was often a performance - a way of "living within a lie" to maintain economic momentum. Much like Arakawa, Carney suggested that for decades, middle powers prospered under a rules-based order they knew was partially false. The fraudulent peace Arakawa describes is the geopolitical equivalent of what economists call "externalities": the costs of our comfort, such as conflict and labor exploitation, are simply moved off the balance sheet and out of sight.

What makes Patlabor 2 so effective is that it refuses to deliver this message as a dry lecture. Instead, it utilizes Production I.G’s peak hand-drawn animation to create a palpable sense of dread. The film is famous for its empty shots—long, wordless sequences of Tokyo’s infrastructure, canals, and military convoys moving through silent, snowy streets. This use of ma, or negative space, forces the viewer to sit with the weight of Arakawa’s words. The mecha action is minimal, relegated to the background, because the true battle is one of perception.

By the time the denouement arrives, the film doesn't offer the catharsis of a won war. Instead, it leaves the audience with a lingering, uncomfortable awareness that the view from the window is indeed beautiful, but the slaughterhouse is still running.

Overall, Patlabor 2 remains a pinnacle of mature storytelling that treats its audience with the respect of a political thriller while utilizing the unique visual strengths of animation.

Megazone 23 Part 1 - Cult Manga Review

Megazone 23 is a cyberpunk OVA that is well regarded. I've known of it for years, seeing it frequently mentioned in Manga Mania, Anime FX as well as on shelves at video stores but I had never got around to seeing it. I thought I'd put aside an hour and a half to check what the fuss was about. 

I saw the film mentioned on numerous occasions in various manga and anime magazines.

Set in a neon-drenched, eternal 1980s Tokyo, the plot follows brash Shogo Yahagi, a cocky young biker who spends his nights tearing through the city streets. His life takes a sharp turn when an old friend entrusts him with a stolen military prototype: an advanced motorcycle that can transform into a powerful mecha. As the military hunts him down to reclaim their tech, Shogo begins to notice strange glitches in his perfect urban paradise. With the help of a popular virtual idol named Eve, Shogo uncovers a massive conspiracy that suggests the world he lives in - and the history he knows - is a carefully constructed illusion.

Having watched it, I can see now where The Matrix, They Live and Dark City got their ideas from; they are a haunting meditation on The Stagnation of Paradise, where the concepts of nostalgia, technology, and social control aren't just separate ideas, but layers of a singular, claustrophobic trap. The story posits that a society prioritizing comfort over truth is inherently fragile, existing in a "forever summer" designed to prevent anyone from looking closely enough at the seams of their reality - all pretty heady stuff for a 1985 anime.

The animation is stunning and holds up well, especially the amazing mech designs by Shinji Aramaki, who worked on Appleseed, Ghost in the Shell SAC and Metal Skin Panic Madox, and character work by the legendary Haruhiko Mikimoto, who worked on Macross and Gundam. The soundtrack slaps and there is no problematic etchi stuff, although there are a couple of love making scenes, but apart from that you're all good to go.

Overall, if you enjoy the vibe of 80s synth-pop, detailed mechanical animation, and "Big Truth" mysteries, this is essential viewing. Just be prepared as it trades the typical hero’s journey for something much more cynical and thought-provoking.

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Green Legend Ran - Cult Manga Review

I'm a huge Mysterious Cities of Gold fan and had heard that it was part inspired by a series called Future Boy Conan. I had never seen this series before, as it was never shown in the UK to my knowledge, but had heard that it was definitely worth a watch. When a Blu-ray was released, I jumped on it and ordered it on release day. I found that, even though the series was old and I had no personal attachment to it, I was very impressed. I could see the DNA from Conan to MCOG. I say this because it seems like it wasn't the only one as I heard that it had influenced Green Legend Ran, a three-part anime series that was released way back in 1992. I knew of it but had never got around to watching the series. However, I did have the soundtrack CD by Yoichiro Yoshikawa which I'd bought from the original location of Forbidden Planet back in the mid 90s. It had been on sale so if picked it up and listened to it with no context. So, with some time on my hands, I thought I'd finally give it a watch.

Set on a post-apocalyptic Earth that had been ruined by humans, the world was further transformed into a desert wasteland after alien monoliths, known as the Rodo drained the planet's water and life. The story follows Ran, an angry young man who questions his lot in life. He joins a revolutionary group to track down the scarred man who killed his mother but his personal quest shifts when he meets Aira, a mysterious silver-haired girl with an unknown connection to the Rodo's central monolith, the 'Holy Mother.'

When Aira is kidnapped, Ran pursues her across the desert, becoming entangled in the larger conflict between the oppressive, water-controlling religious cult known as the Rodoists and the anti-Rodo rebels of Hazzard. Along the way he find out what the purpose of the Rodo is and why they have kidnapped Aira.

I have to say that watching this reminded me of the storyline from several Hollywood movies where aliens are terraforming planets by destroying the atmosphere. It happens in The Arrival, Titan A.E, Chronicles of Riddick, Man of Steel and Dune so it's a pretty common trope. Here, it's wonderfully realised as you see the suffering of the people and the disperate societies that have emerged, some seeing the Holy Green Monoliths as a sign from God whilst others see them as oppressors. The Holy Green has its own plans though and it's machinations may not be magnanimous...

I really liked this anime as the animation by AIC is solid, showcasing some creative dystopian scenery of old ruined cities, failing infrastructures and increasing desertification. The soundtrack is great and complements the film well, especially in its more philosophical musing moments.

Green Legend Ran deals with some emotive themes and features swearing, acts of terrorism, violence, gunplay and blood; it is not intended for young kids, which is a shame as I think it has something important to say about blind faith and the environment.

In a world increasingly fragmented and more tribal, at least when looking at online discourse and politics, this story is pretty evergreen as it shows what can happen when fanaticism takes hold on both sides of the divide. This OVA is well worth 150 mins of your time.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- Fire Tripper: Cult Manga Review

LINK- Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Manga Exhibition at the British Museum

LINK- The Transportive Nature of Objects (And the Power of Mini Consoles)

LINK- My One True Gaming Constant in Life- Nintendo

LINK- The Mysterious Cities of Gold Retro Soundtrack Review

Dragon's Heaven- Cult Manga Film Review

I had heard about Dragon’s Heaven - an OVA that was apparently incredibly expensive due to hubris and arrogance of the director involved. Makoto Kobayashi was heavily influenced by the work of Moebius and Hayao Miyazaki's early output - especially Nausicaä - and it shows in this quirky and unique OAV that could only have been a product of Japan's Bubble Economy.

This is a tale about two robots who battle across the sands of time, in conflict for over a thousand years. When our robot protagonist SHAIAN is damaged in a battle, he rests to recover, only to wake up to a very different world. People are eking out a living in harsh conditions, but the war is still going on and his enemy, Elmedain, is still out there. Luckily, he meets Ikiru, a strong-willed and charismatic teen orphan who agrees to help end the war and defeat Elmedain.

I really enjoyed this animation as it shares the same sense of creative audacity as The Thief and the Cobbler, which took three decades and an innumerable number of artists to nearly complete. But man, what a vision and idea! It's good to reach for the stars and push the boundaries of what's possible. The fact that the first five minutes are all done with practical models, lighting, and effects is mind-blowing; while it looks quite amateur now, it would have looked awesome at the time, I'm sure. The character of Ikiru is also well done, as she seems to be a woman of agency who steps up, has her own mind, and says what she thinks. She's flirty with SHAIAN and makes him uncomfortable at times, which is a real power move.

Overall, I highly recommend this 30-minute OAV as it is a true oddball piece of filmmaking and animation.

Patlabor - Cult Manga Review

Patlabor: The Movie stands as a titan of late-80s anime. Often mentioned in the same breath as Akira, Ghost in the Shell and Ninja Scroll, it was a critical darling of the era. Yet, for years, it somehow eluded me. Recently, I finally corrected that oversight but has it been worth the wait.

Set in an alternate 1999, the story depicts a Tokyo undergoing the massive Babylon Project, a land reclamation undertaking. To handle the colossal construction efforts, the city relies on giant humanoid machines known as Labors. The plot ignites when these machines begin malfunctioning, prompting an investigation by Special Vehicle Section 2. What appears to be a one-off mecha rampage glitch quickly evolves into a moody, atmospheric procedural. It weaves a web involving the suicide of a brilliant programmer, a virus-infected operating system, and a conspiracy that suggests the city's greatest threat is not a physical army, but a line of corrupted code.

Although released in 1989, the film is uncannily prescient. Its exploration of political cover-ups, corporate malpractice, and the fragility of a networked society feels ripped from today's headlines. While we may not have giant mechs roaming our streets, the film’s depiction of software vulnerabilities and corporations hiding defects to protect stock prices is strikingly modern. Patlabor wisely trades simple villains for complex, systemic dangers.

Visually, the film is a triumph. It eschews flashy, weightless action for a grounded realism; the machines feel heavy and mechanical. The background art is phenomenal, providing a dense, lived-in texture that set a new benchmark for the industry. The script is equally mature, delivering a dense political thriller that rewards patience. It is punctuated by philosophical introspection—most notably an investigator quoting Paul Gauguin to question humanity's technological trajectory—and is layered with biblical symbolism regarding Babel, Yahweh and the Ark that is central to the antagonist's philosophy.

Underscoring this heady drama is the glorious score by Kenji Kawai. His signature blend of heavy percussion and haunting synths creates an ethereal atmosphere that binds the narrative together. It all reaches a heady crescendo with the Ark falling apart and the Labors going berserk - wonderful!

Ultimately, despite the three decades since its release, Patlabor: The Movie remains a relevant, thought-provoking watch and an undeniable masterpiece from director Mamoru Oshii. I'm sure had I seen it back in the day it would have blown my mind because, even now, it stands as a phenomenal piece of work.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- Fire Tripper: Cult Manga Review

LINK- Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Manga Exhibition at the British Museum

LINK- The Transportive Nature of Objects (And the Power of Mini Consoles)

LINK- My One True Gaming Constant in Life- Nintendo

LINK- The Mysterious Cities of Gold Retro Soundtrack Review

Riding Bean - Cult Manga Review

I knew of Riding Bean as I had seen it on sale at my local comic shop as well as in Forbidden Planet in London. I never had a chance to watch it at the time but knew that the 1989 OVA was the precursor to mangaka Kenichi Sonoda's Gunsmith Cats, a manga I read in Manga Mania back in the day but only watched a short while ago.

I have a big collection of Manga Mania and here is a small pile…

The film follows the amoral, high-octane wheelman Bean Bandit and his sharpshooter partner Rally Vincent as they navigate a stylish, crime-ridden Chicago after being framed for kidnapping. Bean does not like this new state of affairs and so a cat and mouse chase ensues through the city.

The OVA's enduring appeal lies in its breathtaking technical execution. Riding Bean is a stunning example of late-20th-century cel animation at its absolute peak. The animation team poured meticulous detail into the fluid motion, density of backgrounds, and the sheer visceral impact of its centerpiece - the numerous high-speed car chases. Bean Bandit’s customized car, "Buffy," is rendered with incredible precision, from its dynamic camera angles to detailed damage modeling, making the sense of speed and action palpable. For animation enthusiasts, the film remains a masterclass in kinetic energy translated onto the screen.

However, this visual brilliance is coupled with a narrative and tonal deficiency that firmly anchors it in a less mature era of filmmaking. The plot is thin, functioning primarily as a flimsy pretext for the next explosive action sequence. More critically, the film suffers from problematic sexual politics and tone that has aged poorly.

Rally Vincent, who would later become the fully developed protagonist of Gunsmith Cats, is relegated to a secondary, often sexualized and objectified role. This male gaze, the glib, jarring treatment of female violence, reflects the casual sleaze prevalent in many action OVAs (as well as most media) of that era. The entire premise, built on cynical anti-heroes driven purely by money, prioritizes shock value over thematic depth, resulting in a work that feels emotionally hollow and crudely adolescent when viewed through a modern lens.

Overall, Riding Bean is a great shirt OVA but a product of its time: there is unparalleled technical craft but this is tempered by a narrative sensibility that has significantly degraded over time. I think it's fine to watch if a bit uncomfortable in places but the later Gunsmith Cats series is a much more refined, satisfying and less skeevy work by Sonoda.

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK- Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Maturity and Meaning in Revisiting the Manga and Anime of Our Youth

There is a special kind of power in returning to the media of your youth and realizing that your younger self was watching an entirely different show. Over the past year, I’ve been revisiting some of the key anime and manga of my formative years—Neon Genesis Evangelion, Serial Experiments Lain, and my undisputed favorite, Haibane Renmei - and I've come to a striking realization. While Haibane Renmei (the purgatorial masterpiece) has always felt like a key text to me, I’ve also had to accept a basic truth: Evangelion and Lain are right up there with it. Now, I always loved these two but my re-evaluation hasn't come from the giant robots or the cyberpunk aesthetics but from the abstract, deeply polarizing internal monologues that bookended both these series which have finally clicked into place.

As a younger teenager, I found their navel-gazing head-trip endings confusing or even self-indulgent. However, as an adult with a life lived, I have come to realise that they are among the most honest representations of the human condition ever animated: not many shows looked at the philosophies of Kierkegaard and Schopenhauer and treated them seriously back then and the fact that these three series did that in an accessible way is pretty mind-blowing.

At the age of fourteen, the Hedgehog’s Dilemma in Evangelion was a cool philosophical trivia point - the idea that we, like hedgehogs in winter, want to huddle for warmth but inevitably prick each other with our spines. It felt poetic in an edgy, detached way. Now, after years of navigating real-world relationships, heartbreaks, and the complexities of intimacy, that dilemma feels less like poetry and more like a scar. Adulthood is a constant negotiation of those spines. We crave to be known and validated, yet we are terrified of the vulnerability that being known requires. We push people away to preserve ourselves, then find ourselves shivering in the cold.

Returning to Evangelion as an adult means recognizing that Shinji’s paralyzing fear isn't just petulent whining - it is the very real weight of realizing that to love someone is to give them the power to hurt you. We spend our lives trying to find the sweet spot on that graph: close enough to feel the warmth, yet far enough to avoid the sting.

If Evangelion is about the internal barriers we build, Serial Experiments Lain is about what happens when those barriers dissolve in the digital age. Re-watching Lain in the present feels almost prophetic. In the Wired, Lain exists in multiple versions—the shy girl, the bold digital entity, the cruel observer.

As an adult, this mirrors the exhaustion of the modern Persona. We project ourselves into different Wireds of our own lives—our LinkedIn professional self, our Instagram and Facebook curated self, our private, lonely self—seeking a connection that bypasses the physical pain of the Hedgehog’s Dilemma. But Lain warns us that when we are everywhere, we are also nowhere. It serves as a bridge: if we can be anyone to get validation, how do we ever live with who we actually are when the screens turn off?

This is where Haibane Renmei completes this triad. Where Evangelion deals with the terror of being an individual and Lain deals with the fragmentation of the self, Haibane explores the weight of being a guilty one. Its central philosophical hurdle is the Circle-of-Sin, a paradox that feels agonizingly familiar once you’ve carried the weight of your own mistakes for a few decades.

The logic of the Circle-of-Sin is a trap: To recognize one's sin is to have no sin. But then, are those who recognize their sin without sin? If you believe you have a sin, you are caught in the circle.

As an adult, this hits home because we often become our own harshest jailers. We believe that if we just feel bad enough, we can earn our way out of our guilt. But Haibane Renmei argues that you cannot find your own way out of the circle alone. You cannot self-validate your way out of shame. You have to accept the help of another; you have to allow yourself to be forgiven by the very other that Evangelion warns will prick you with their spines.

Ultimately, these three series function as a roadmap for the maturing psyche. They move from the external chaos of robots and computers to the internal silence of the soul. Through the lens of adulthood, the Human Instrumentality of Evangelion is no longer a sci-fi threat; it is the very real temptation to stop trying—to stop being an individual and sink into a sea of easy validation and collective numbness or ennui where everyone is one.

To truly wake up is to navigate the triad: you must acknowledge the fragmentation of your digital masks (Lain), break the self-perpetuating cycle of your own shame (Haibane Renmei), and finally accept the inherent pain of the Hedgehog’s Dilemma (Evangelion).

The final episodes of Eva resonate so deeply now because they represent the moment of synthesis. They tell us that the A.T. Field - the barrier of the soul - is not just a wall that keeps people out, but the very thing that gives us a shape to love. The Congratulations isn't for winning a war; it’s for the quiet, monumental decision to remain an individual in a world that makes being one incredibly difficult. I used to think these shows were about the end of the world. Now, I see they are about the courage it takes to truly inhabit it.

Returning to these stories isn't just an exercise in nostalgia for me; it's a kind of progress report on the soul. We never truly watch the same show twice because we are never the same person twice. If the anime of our youth once felt like an escape from a world we didn't understand, revisiting them as adults feels like an invitation to engage with that world more deeply. We are no longer just watching Shinji, Lain, or Rakka; we are recognizing ourselves in them. And in that recognition, there is a strange, quiet comfort: the realization that while the world may be heavy, we finally have the strength to carry our own spines.

LINK- Serial Experiment Lain - Cult Manga Review

LINK- Haibane Renmei - Cult Manga Review

LINK- The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

LINK- Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

A Chinese Ghost Story: The Animated Film - Cult Film Review

Back in the early 90s, Hong Kong cinema (as well as much of world cinema) was still quite niche, cult and difficult to find in England. You'd get the occasional Bruce Lee movie on television and that was about it. I knew Bruce Lee through Enter the Dragon but that was it, my knowledge of the wider genre was very slim. That changed as Channel 4 (and later cable channels) started to show anime, manga and Asian Cinema more frequently and when Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon became a worldwide smash the floodgates opened. I may be misremembering but I think I was introduced to this genre through Channel 4 or by a close friend who was a huge Jackie Chan fan before he became a 'name' in the West with the success of Rush Hour. However, by whatever means, A Chinese Ghost Story was one of the first HK films I saw and I fell in love with it, purchasing the Hong Kong Legends DVD for the then princely sum of £20 years later (that’s in the early 00s mind you so that’s mega expensive!)

Later I would realise that, whilst incredibly beautifully shot with sumptuous costumes and detailed sets, the film was a sum of the genre parts rather than a truly innovative picture. Another earlier Tsui Hark picture, Zu: Warriors of the Mountain (which I also purchased later, again by HKL) did a lot of what is shown Hark's oeuvre and the Wuxia genre, however, at the time I didn't mind as I didn't know any better. Even now, the tale of a lowly, down on his luck tax collector falling in love with a spirit and trying to save her cursed soul still captivates me.

Released in 1997, A Chinese Ghost Story: The Animated Film was something I sought after seeing it mentioned in Manga Mania but I never found it... until now, where it came up serendipitously in my YouTube feed.

Under the direction of Tsui Hark, who also produced the original films, this animated film ventured into new territory, aiming to translate ethereal romance and supernatural action into a fresh medium. So, did Hark succeed in this endeavour?

The narrative mirrors its live-action predecessor, following Ning, a young and somewhat naive tax collector and scholar, who is heartbroken and adrift in ancient China. However, his spirits are lifted by an encounter with Siu Lan, an ethereal beauty with whom he instantly falls in love. The significant complication, however, is that Siu Lan is a soul stealing ghost. Their blossoming romance quickly finds itself at odds with the formidable supernatural powers that govern their world. Ning's unwavering devotion forces him to confront a gauntlet of challenges, from undead beasts and mad exorcists to powerful chi blasts and even spectral trains. Despite these perilous obstacles, his determination to fight for his one last chance at happiness forms the emotional core of the film.

I really enjoyed my time with the film as it is an ambitious fusion of animation techniques. It is a testament to the artistry of fluid, hand-drawn animation. This traditional approach masterfully captures expressive character designs and creates dynamic action sequences, imbuing them with a timeless cel-animated charm. Characters move with a grace and exaggerated flair difficult to achieve in live-action, allowing for more fantastical and emotionally charged performances. Complementing this, meticulously detailed backgrounds depicting misty forests, ancient temples, and bustling marketplaces are rendered with impressive depth, often evoking the beauty of traditional Chinese painting. However, the film also serves as a fascinating snapshot of animation in the late 1990s, venturing into the then-nascent realm of GCI and live film, a real mixed media prodution of you will. The integration of CGI is arguably the most experimental aspect, and at times, the least seamless. While employed effectively to depict certain magical effects, spirits, and elaborate transformations, the early 3D animation occasionally contrasts sharply with the more organic hand-drawn elements. This visual disconnect can momentarily pull the viewer from the immersive experience, a common challenge for films of this era that pushed the boundaries of new technologies. While some CGI elements hold up better than others, they are undeniably a product of their time. However, despite these experimental quirks, the film largely succeeds in delivering a beautifully animated and engaging narrative.

The story admirably retains the melancholic romance and tragic undertones that defined the original live-action trilogy, while adapting the action for the animated medium, allowing for more exaggerated and visually creative battles against various demons and spirits. The voice acting, which I experienced as an English dub, breathes life into the characters, and the score effectively underscores the film's emotional beats and supernatural tension.

In conclusion, A Chinese Ghost Story: The Animated Film is a captivating curio in the history of animated cinema, especially for aficionados of Asian animation. Its unwavering commitment to traditional hand-drawn techniques remains its greatest strength, delivering vibrant characters and dynamic action sequences. While its pioneering use of CGI and live-action elements can at times feel dated or disruptive, they also serve as a valuable testament to the era's innovative and exploratory spirit.

So, for those keen to witness a beloved tale retold with creative ambition and a truly unique visual approach, this animated feature is well worth a watch.

Shadow Star Narutaru- Cult Manga Review

I knew of Shadow Star as the series ran for a while in Manga Mania back in the late 90s. I liked it's naive, laidback art style that looked different from the other, more stereotypical stuff that we wee getting. Manga-ka Mohiro Kitoh's art and storytelling belies the dark heart of the story underneath. The story was never complete in Manga Mania and, even though I bought the 7 graphic novels, the rest of the series was never released in the UK so I never got closure. Finally, after nearly 30 years, I got access to the 13 part the anime series and had a chance to see if it was as graphic, dark and violent as I remembered.

With the cheerful opening credits I second guessed myself thinking I was misremembering the series. The jaunty theme tune, the colourful paper cut art style and cute characters made it look more like a slice of life comedy series in the vein of Hamtaro or Shin Crayon rather than what we have here.

The first episode starts of cheerful enough as Shiina, a young tween sent to holiday with her Grandparents near the coast, finds a strange star-shaped creature in the sea next to a torii gate. She bonds with it as it flies her all around the coast. She names it Hoshimaru and takes it back home with her, keeping it a secret from her father. Great, a buddy story of two new friends from different world, a modern day ET you might think... but no, by episode 2 the darkness of the series is revealed and it gets progressively beaker, violent and misanthropic. There are several of these alien beings and they all have owners who are bonded with them, the problem is that a few of the teenage keepers of the 'Children of the Dragon' ETs are maniacs who want a Khymer Rouge style Year Zero where there is a genocide of the educated elite to allow for a 'peaceful and strong society  that lives off the land'.

Shiina and her friend Akira want to fight back but there are a group of teens who are more bonded with their dragons and in their mind might is right.

Over the course of 13 episodes we have an ongoing battle between Shiina, Akira and Horoko and the Japanese Airforce against  those with evil intent. However, along the way we deal with real big issues such as self-harm, neglect, emotional abuse, mental health,.... it's all pretty heady and heavy stuff and you'd like for it to be handled well but the show is tonally everywhere. It's light and breezy one moment and in the next minute very bleak.

The art style in Shadow Star will not appeal to everyone but I quite like that it is quiet distinctive in the manga space. The characters are all gangly arms and legs but I suppose to convey tween and early teens that'd be accurate. Shiina is a bit of a tomboy so her supposed gracelessness, which her career-driven mum criticises her about in episode 3, is understood to be a trait we can get behind as she is our plucky heroine. Shiina is very endearing and a sympathetic character as she wants to help and do the right thing. The character design of the other people is pretty forgettable, including the dragon children who all look a bit uninspired.

The series asks a lot of questions and is intriguing but the motivation of the evil cabal of teens here is not clear. I get the world is not great so the whole 'let's start afresh' seems like a bold idea... until you take into account the hundreds of millions of people you would need to kill in order to possibly achieve this. These youths don't come across as sympathetic or idealistic, more psychopathic with Stalin's attitude of 'You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs'.

It's a shame the series ends where it does as there is definitely something here. Sure, there's a dark heart here but the story of power corrupting youth and lack of impulse control is one we can all understand both in real life and through literary examples like Lord of the Flies. Sure, Shadow Star Narutaru isn't the finest work of anime or manga but I enjoyed the story that was presented. I need closure but I suppose with no chance of a second series being commissioned it'll be a case of finding English translations of graphic novels volume 8 to 12 to get that. Oh well!

Puppet Princess - Cult Manga Review

Like many of us, I often find myself tumbling down the rabbit hole of obscure anime, and that's precisely how I stumbled upon the OVA Puppet Princess. Intrigued by the mysterious title, and with no prior knowledge, I decided to dive in and what I found was a surprisingly engaging, albeit brief journey.

The story of Puppet Princess centers on a seemingly naive and clumsy young woman, named Princess Rangiku, traversing a war-torn landscape, burdened by a massive box on her back. Her mission? To exact revenge on the  tyrannical Lord Karimata, who not only decimated her family but also seized her father's land and, more notably, his cherished collection of intricate giant Karakuri puppets. Along her arduous journey, she gains a ninja companion called Manajiri, and together they face a series of formidable adversaries, all leading up to the final confrontation with the 'big boss' to achieve her revenge.

Clocking in at a concise 42 minutes, Puppet Princess is a pretty good watch as it offers a unique fusion of steampunk aesthetics, traditional Japanese puppetry and some pretty dramatic fight action. Released in the early 2000s, it boasts a distinct visual style and beautifully blends traditional 2D animation with subtle applications of CGI, creating a visually rich experience. This is no surprise as it was produced by TMS and Toho (and another studio I don't know much about called Shogakukan).

While the premise is undeniably intriguing, the OVA's limited runtime presents a double-edged sword as the plot progresses at such a rapid clip that it leaves certain plot points feeling a bit rushed or underdeveloped. However, it's a testament to the creators that despite this constraint, Puppet Princess still manages to deliver a complete and satisfying narrative arc when a limited 6-part series may have suited it better.

So overall, if you're an anime enthusiast looking for something off the beaten path, with a unique visual flair and a quick but impactful story, Puppet Princess is definitely worth seeking out.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Please Save My Earth - Cult Manga Review

LINK: Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Fireworks - Cult Manga Review

For fans of Shunji Iwai's distinctive cinematic style, the 2017 anime adaptation of his 1993 television special, Fireworks: Should We See It from the Side or the Bottom? feels like a beautiful and unexpected gift. As a long-time admirer of his work, which I first discovered through the cult classic Picnic, I was delighted to find this animated reimagining. I hoped it would capture the earnest spirit of his original vision while expanding it into something new.

The film, now titled simply Fireworks, is from Shaft Studios and Director Akiyuki Shinbo. This adaptation takes a 30-year-old story and turns it into something new yet familiar. It's a time-loop romance centered on two teenagers: the carefree Norimichi and the emotionally burdened Nazuna, who is grappling with her mother's impending remarriage and a forced move away from her friends. The story cleverly uses a magical, glowing orb to explore "what if" scenarios, allowing Norimichi to repeatedly alter events in a bid to change Nazuna's fate. This narrative device, reminiscent of films like Sliding Doors or Mr. Nobody, delves into the complexities of choice and the longing for a different outcome.

What truly elevated this film for me was its breathtaking animation. The vibrant colors and fluid character designs create a dreamlike atmosphere that perfectly complements the story's fantastical elements. Each scene is a work of art, from the sun-drenched coastal town to the mesmerizing spectacle of the fireworks themselves. This visual feast is expertly paired with an emotive and memorable soundtrack that enhances the film's poignant moments, pulling the viewer deeper into the characters' emotional journeys. The main protagonists are simply characterized and, aside from a few juvenile moments from the male students, are quite innocent and endearing.

Fireworks is a poignant meditation on first love, regret, and the paths not taken. The film's earnestness and stunning artistry make it a compelling watch that will resonate with anyone who has pondered the choices that shape their lives. While it might not reach the epic emotional heights of modern classics like Your Name or The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Fireworks should be judged on its own merits. It doesn't need to be a masterpiece to be worth your time.

Ultimately, this animated version is a testament to Shunji Iwai's enduring talent for crafting stories that are both deeply personal and universally relatable. For that, it stands as a worthy addition to his body of work.

LINK: For the Love of Shunji Iwai

LINK- The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

LINK- Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

Please Save My Earth- Cult Manga Series Review

Please Save My Earth is a series I only knew of through a soundtrack which I purchased from Forbidden Planet in London over 30 years ago. It was on sale and was an impulse buy as at the time manga and anime CDs were very expensive so a CD for under £10 was a bargain. I had never seen the series before but recently found all the English dubbed episodes online so thought I'd dive in. Was it good though?

Well, one thing that comes through clearly is how weird a series it is, one with timeslips, past lives, reincarnation, alternate timelines and the eternal love triangle. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

The story concerns Alice, a typical high school student in Japan who dreams that she is the reincarnation of an alien scientist who lived on the Moon. She find other youths who have a similar dream and the group decide to find others in order to understand what it all means. However, they soon discover that their present and alternate lives clash and combine in interesting ways as past loves, hates, jealousies and worried bleed into the present.

The series, produced by Studio I.G. and based on the shojo manga by Saki Iwatari, was apparently quite influential back in the day and I can kind of see why. During our formative years we go through change and growth and the show isn't scared to look deep into our humanity to see what makes us all individual and unique.

As with many OAVs of the time, the art is stunning and has aged very well. The music is haunting and melancholic to create the perfect mood. As for the story, it reminds me of The OA in some ways with fate, destiny, The Garden of Forking Paths and the eternal battle between good vs evil playing out through time, or Sense 8 which is all to do with the interconnected lives of individuals across the world who share a mysterious connection. Mostly, I think it shares ideas that were explored further in David Mitchell's sublime Cloud Atlas- the grand story of people whose  destinies are entwined across time and space in the most profound way, sometimes for good and sometimes for ill.

At 6 episodes of 30 mins in length, it's not the most time consuming series to dedicate some time too but it does linger in the mind. Considering that only in the last few years have more mainstream shows depicted the ideas presented here this series was a bit of an outlier. Not bad for a lesser known series (at least in the West) which was created in 1993.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Battle Angel Alita: And So It Ends

LINK- The Moomins 80's Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK- Inspector Gadget Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- Ulysses 31 Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- The Mysterious Cities of Gold Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- Sonic Mania Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack

LINK- Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK- Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

Wizardry- Cult Manga Review

Wizardry is a game series that I am aware of but never actually played as it was a little before my time. It was an incredibly influential popular CRPG series that was available on PCs in 1981 but was ported elsewhere, including an apparently poor NES port in 1990. I knew of it through hearing the name on several podcasts and when I read the book Dungeons and Desktops, which looked at the CRPGs. Whilst falling down the old skool anime rabbit hole on YouTube the Wizardry OVA came up in my feed. So, join me fellow adventurer seeking a review of the arcane arts brought to the screen! I'd be delighted to weave one for you. Callooh! Calllay! O frabjuous day... ahem. Right. Let's crack on then.

The story is basic swords and sworcery 101 in that a party of characters enters a dungeon to confront an all-powerful wizard called Werdna to retrieve an amulet stolen from King Trebor (of extra strong mints fame - I'll get me coat). Along the way to the 10th floor (like an inverse Game of Death) they confront beasts as well as deal with a myriad other internal conflicts and grievances. Will they make it out alive?

I really liked this 50 minute animation as, even though I didn't know the game series, the tale it told was accessible for all. The character designs and archetypes were instantly recognisable from many an RPG – the stoic fighter, the handy wizard, the nifty ninja, the apprentice etc

Also, while not a masterpiece of animation or storytelling, this 1991 OVA is quite a unique piece of video game adaptation history as it was based on a Western game series from the early 80s. Sure, the attempts at humor can occasionally fall flat and some of the character development feels rushed within this short runtime but the journey is worth it.

For fans of the game seriss, this OVA will serve as a nostalgic trip down memory lane, offering a visual interpretation of the dungeons and dangers that captivated a generation of RPG enthusiasts. But, for neophytes like me, the animation is a good primer for the game and has piqued my interest in a game I'll never likely play but can appreciate.

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