Review: Pluto

This ONA series, which debuted on Netflix in late October, has a very interesting pedigree. It adapts a lauded manga by Naoki Urasawa (the manga-ka behind titles like Yawara! A Fashionable Judo Girl, Master Keaton, 21st Century Boys, and of course Monster), but that was itself a re-imagining of a singular story arc from Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy; indeed, Atom and his creator, Dr. Tenma, are both major characters in this story. That this is essentially an Astro Boy spin-off is not at all apparent until the last scene of episode 1, and no familiarity with Astro Boy is necessary to make sense of this story. It can be watched as a stand-alone just fine.

And it’s definitely worth watching regardless of what your normal opinions on fare about robots and AIs are. Over the course of 8 roughly hour-long episodes, it spins a sprawling, thought-provoking, occasionally intense, and sometimes even damning story about the tumultuous relationship humans have with ever-present robots and how certain robots attempt to live as humans would, including having spouses and even children. The framing device for the whole story is a basic-seeming plot: someone or something is going around destroying the seven great robots, advanced AIs who all participated in some capacity in the 39th Central Asian War a few years earlier. Paralleling this are the murders of individuals who are initially believed to be connected by their advocacy for robot rights but are later shown to all be linked by having been involved in a fact-finding mission which immediately preceded (and laid the groundwork for) the aforementioned war. As he investigates both lines of cases, robot detective Gesicht speaks to each of the surviving great robots in turn.

In some respects, the series follows familiar themes. Each of the robots in question is actively working on trying to find its own niche in post-war life. One becomes a butler to a blind genius composer and tries to learn about music, another raises a large family, another looks after orphans, and another just can’t completely step away from all of the battles. Each of them reflects on their involvement in the war and the way they participated in it, resulting in very human-like experiences of soldiers who try to reintegrate into society after coming home from bloody battles. Because robots, unlike humans, can’t forget without their memories being specifically wiped, their experiences weigh heavily on them. Meanwhile, there are anti-robot terrorists to contend with, the trial of a former dictator, the rebuilding of a war-devastated country, and oh, yes, a mysterious robot called Pluto going around wreaking havoc. All of it is connected, but the underlying mystery of the story is how it’s connected.

Many of the issues raised in the series are familiar ones for the genre. Robots in this setting can fight and destroy other robots but are explicitly forbidden to harm or kill humans, yet one did once, and that seems to be happening again. Or is this not just the second time? What mechanism might allow a robot to do that? Robots do what they can to fit in, even to the point of mimicking human behaviors that aren’t necessary for them, but can they really understand what it is to be human? And does making robots and AIs more human-like mean they can achieve human emotions and flaws as well? The series plays fast and loose with the science, in many places pushing it to the level of magic, so those expecting fine realism won’t find it here. However, technical minutiae is not something the series has much interest in exploring.

That’s because the series has so much else to say and points it is clearly trying to make. That the source manga began in 2003 is an important detail, as the story makes little pretense about the 39th Central Asian War and the circumstances that brought it about being heavily modeled on the early stages of the Iraq War in 2003; the country at the center of the conflict is even unsubtly called Persia, and it leader Darius XIV bears a distinct resemblance to Saddam Hussein. Instead of “weapons of mass destruction” being the impetus for the war, it’s “robots of mass destruction” here. In the real world, whether or not the WMDs actually ever existed became a thorny issue in the years following the war, and that is harshly reflected here. In fact, the truth or falsehood of that matter ultimately proves to be the impetus of most of what happens in the series (even if not apparent at first). Parts of this may make viewers old enough to remember the Iraq War a little uncomfortable, and I don’t doubt that’s intentional.

The series measure up on technical fronts as well. The distinctive character design styles of both Tezuka and Urasawa stray markedly from current standards, but none of the characters here – not even the robots – lack for distinctive appearances and personalities. Settings, whether futuristic-looking cities or desolate desert battlefields, are beautifully-rendered by a wide range of contributing studios. CG aspect don’t always blend in perfectly, but otherwise the animation effort is smooth and strong, with some truly dynamic sequences. Credit also goes to music director Yugo Kanno (with support from some compositions by Urasawa), who delivers a musical score that turns the most intensely dramatic scenes into true powerhouses, giving the whole affair an appropriate sense of size and scale.

I watched the series in English dubbed form (it is available with Netflix’s normal array of sub and dub options), and the English vocal performances will not disappoint. Though the cast mostly consists of long-time anime regulars performing as expected (gee, casting Richard Epcar as a robot who looks like a buff, middle-aged, white-haired guy with a bad attitude must have been a tough decision. . .), kudos go in particular to anime newcomer Jason Vande Brake for an outstanding performance as Gesicht and to relative newcomer SungWon Cho for a potentially career-making turn as philosophical killer robot Brau-1589. And no, that’s not a Western actor using an accent for Darius XIV; they really did get a Jordanian actor (one known for having dubbed some anime into Arabic) for the role. You won’t find a weak performance anywhere in the English dub, however.

Despite prominently featuring child-looking robots in some episodes, Pluto is very much one of the rare anime series made completely for adults. It delivers in all storytelling, characterization, and technical aspects and easily deserves to be considered one of 2023’s best titles.

Rating: A

The Apothecary Diaries episode 11

Rating: A+

Barring a stunning collapse in the next couple of weeks, Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End is not going to be beat for best series of the season (and maybe the year), but with this episode The Apothecary Diaries makes its strongest bid for the #2 spot. In culminating multiple recent plot threads, it delivers a masterpiece of deductions, tragedy, loss, and regret, mostly driven by a need to maintain appearances. In the process it brings a lot of seemingly-disparate details together, albeit sometimes in uncomfortable ways, and strongly implies critical long-hidden truths.

Key amongst those details is Lishu’s bad experience with honey when she was young, which is the surprising pivot point on which most of what happens here swings. Feeding honey to a baby under one year old (especially one under 6 months old) can cause infant botulism – not exactly poisoning, but that’s the way medicine at the level of sophistication for this setting would understand it. This is likely what happened to Lishu, rather than a food allergy. Such an affliction isn’t necessarily fatal but could, indeed, make a baby dangerously sick. Since honey is an expensive commodity in this setting, cases where babies might be fed it would probably be few and far between even among the wealthy, so that not being common knowledge is completely understandable. (Honestly, I wasn’t aware of this myself until I read up about it in the wake of watching this episode.) From this little lack of knowledge, a tragedy which unfolded over 17 years and ultimately cost at least three lives, may have involved the crippling of another, and the disruption of one mutually-beneficial relationship was spun. “Ignorance is a sin,” indeed.

Maomao has shown before a reluctance to be accusatory in cases where women could be put in deadly trouble, but she has also shown that she will act decisively when lives are (or have been) on the line, and this time she also has a highly personal reason to get involved. Her confrontation with Fengming reveals a woman devastated by one awful mistake and her efforts to cover that up, both for her own sake and for that of the woman she idolized to the point that she resolved to serve no other. It clarifies that Lishu was nervous around Garnet Pavilion not because of the honey but because Fengming was actively trying to push her away, lest Ah-Duo get any inkling that the honey was what killed her baby 17 years ago. (And Lishu was still coming around anyway because she had formerly had a practically daughter/mother connection to Ah-Duo.) Fenming tried to have Lishu poisoned not to preserve Ah-Duo’s position in the Rear Palace – she was already on the way out anyway – but to eliminate that potential loose end, and the servant girl died in a genuine suicide to deflect any suspicion of the poisoning falling on her mistress. That the servant girl tried to climb out despite doing it out of devotion weighs like a stone block on the whole scenario and speaks to the extreme irony in play here: the utter devotion of Ah-Duo’s servants ultimately cost lives for purposes that Ah-Duo would never have tolerated had she known about them, while the lack of devotion of Lishu’s servants may have saved hers.

But while Maomao’s intense confrontation of Fengming is the episode’s dramatic peak, all of the other follow-up scenes play crucial roles in rounding out this part of the story. Despite Fenming’s attempts to keep Ah-Duo from knowing about any of what was transpiring, the latter’s words while drinking with Maomao atop the wall suggests that she has a pretty good sense of what transpired, if not exactly what the real underlying reason for it all was. The drunk and morose behavior of Jinshi shows a different side of him and suggests that his connection to Ah-Duo is more than just professional, and Maomao’s lament that suggesting to Fenming how to turn herself in in such a way that she still protects/shields Ah-Duo is the best she can do as “a girl with no power” also hits hard. And given the way things play out, does any viewer think that her speculation at the end, as Ah-Duo is leaving, is just an “idiotic delusion”? But if that’s the case, then which baby was it that got poisoned? Still feels like something’s missing there, and the mystery about the chemically-treated boards possibly used as signals still hasn’t been resolved.

Regardless, this episode also shines on the production front, featuring some of the series’ finest animation and scene framing to date, especially in shots like the vista of stars during the scenes atop the wall. The musical score, which has always hit the mark, is also at its best throughout.

This is The Apothecary Diaries at its most somber, but the episode shows that it doesn’t have to rely on its humor aspect to achieve its full impact.

The Eminence in Shadow episode 31

Rating: B+

During the last couple of reviews, I wondered why the succession of the Oriana Kingdom bypassed the former queen and went straight to Rose. This episode gives us the answer: the former king, in one of his few moments of lucidity towards the end of his life, forced the succession onto Rose by re-encoding the ring which controlled the legendary Black Rose to her. That didn’t entirely thwart the Cult but certainly made their plan more difficult. The grand irony this time around is that both the Cult and Shadow still end up getting what they want, just not in the way that either of them intended.

In the Cult’s case, they were working through Perv Asshat to get him to marry Rose so he could get control of the ring. But it turns out that wasn’t actually necessary; they just had to get Rose to put the ring on. That raises the question of how much Mordred was playing Perv for a fool; since Mordred was already present at the wedding and had the activation device that Zeta and his team were looking for, Mordred was probably lying through his teeth to Perv the whole time. That doesn’t make Perv’s consternation about discovering he didn’t have the ring any less sweet, nor make seeing him get beheaded any less satisfying. (For that matter, after the reveal that the queen was a willing participant in drugging the king and advocated offing her daughter so she could have Perv all to herself, seeing her get beheaded, too, was also pretty satisfying.) Party with the Big Boys and the consequences can be steep indeed.

Shadow also gets what he wanted here – a grand, dramatic showdown – just not at all in the way he was planning, either. His conversations with Rose last episode seemed like some genuine soul-searching, and it feels a little like he’s straining to keep orienting her into the plot he has in mind in this case, too. Of course, he and Rose are still not at all on the same page, though neither still seems aware of that, and the crucial “help” he gives Rose in the form of the ring is purely accidental. And certainly neither he nor anyone else was aware of the message the former king had left which threw a wrench into everyone’s plans. But hey, Shadow still gets a major Cult foe and an army-destroying mechanical monster from an extradimensional rift to take out in stylish fashion, so what’s to complain about? Cid is nothing if not adaptable, especially when it comes to fitting random events into his dramatic narrative.

Romance is definitely not part of that narrative at this point, although any sane person in Cid’s position would probably be running from the increasingly-yandere tendencies of that maid. She was getting unwanted attention from the guard last episode, but she makes clear this episode that you don’t want to get on her bad side. Cid does at least continue to take note of Epsilon’s fine use of slime to enhance her bust, though he regards it so analytically that he seems to be more admiring Epsilon’s skill and dedication at pulling off that very vain stunt than the actual sex appeal that Epsilon is aiming for. (Again, the irony here is that she is making an impression on him with her assets, just not the way she intended.) I’m not sure what to make of the joke about Cid solemnly playing piano for the crowd in his underwear, though, especially with the audience not seeming to react to it.

Overall, the trials that Rose is being forced through here are ultimately going to leave her a stronger person, even if she’s suffering to get to that point; we can see signs of that in the way she refutes Perv at the altar. Oriana will recover from the destruction with a strong and capable ruler who will be a secret ally to Shadow Garden, and Shadow will come out smelling like roses (hah!) and get credited for genius he didn’t consciously use once again. Rose will be even better off if she can break from her dream of having Cid at her side, but hey, first thing’s first: there’s a Big Bad to take out.

The Apothecary Diaries episode 10

Rating: B+

Last episode began a narrative shift away from individual mysteries and more towards how certain mysteries may be connected into a bigger picture. This episode continues down that path as Maomao interacts with two of the other four high-ranking concubines: Lishu and Ah-Duo. In the process, we learn a bit more about each and their situations.

Lishu’s case first comes up during a tea party and during a later visit from Maomao, which clarifies how she is being influenced and bullied by her ladies-in-waiting. Interaction with Ah-Duo comes in between when Maomao is sent to help for a couple of days of cleaning at Jinshi’s behest, an assignment which feels very much like Jinshi is using her to fish for information even though he doesn’t say as much. Aside from Maomao getting the gossip from her laundry friend and Jinshi going overboard with a bit of teasing towards Maomao, that’s about all that happens during the episode. However, we learn a lot from these incidents, and that raises further big questions.

All of this is shown under a roughly-uniting theme of honey, which is also the episode’s title. Honey is prominent at Ah-Duo’s Garnet Pavilion because Fenming, her chief lady-in-waiting, is from a honey-producing family. It’s even in the candles they burn, which would be an extravagant luxury in a setting where honey isn’t cheap, and Jinshi is both showing off and teasing Maomao with it later on. So why would Lishu, who’s revealed to probably be allergic to honey as well, furtively in the vicinity of Garnet Pavilion with only her poison-tester in tow? Something is definitely suspicious there. The servant woman who died last episode was from that pavilion, and rumored to have been the poisoner at the garden party, too. That’s only rumor, of course, but if she did do it and was acting on behalf of someone, it probably would be Fenming, who also has the bandages on her arm suggesting that she may have been involved with the treated boards from a few episodes back. Everything points towards something going on here, but are these just red herrings borne of gossip, part of a simple plan to get Lishu out of the picture, or something bigger? The middle option seems most likely, since there is motive: Ah-Duo is going to be leaving the harem soon to be replaced by someone younger, and the presumption is that she might not have to if Lishu (who hasn’t serviced the Emperor at all) went instead.

But that all seems a little too simple. Things get more intriguing when we learn that Ah-Duo still being present in the harem despite her age can be attributed to practically being raised side-by-side with the Emperor, so it seems unlikely that she’d be able to be forced out. Her having a baby around the same time as the current Emperor’s little brother was born is also very highly suspicious, especially if we factor in that Jinshi has been implied to be that brother and bears some striking similarities in appearance to Ah-Duo. (Granted, he doesn’t look like he’s that young, but that’s never stopped anime before.) This reeks of some kind of cover-up, one that Maomao’s adoptive father seems to have been involved in, too; this is what his mysterious comment at the end of episode 7 must have been referring to. But how much, if anything, does that have to do with current events?

Aside from that, the other interesting detail is how different in appearance Ah-Duo is from the others. She has neither Lishu’s youth and innocence, the exotic beauty of Gyokuyou, or the curvaceous figure of Lihua, but is, in fact, a more androgynous beauty, the kind who could have been the prince of an all-girls school as a teenager. She’s essentially the female version of Jinshi. Hmmm. . .

One or more big mysteries are playing out here, and that’s sure to keep this series involving for the foreseeable future.

Review: The Boy and the Heron

Whether this ends up being Miyazaki’s last film or not, all of the work that went into it is quite evident on the screen. The movie is resplendent with all manner of visual creativity, a fair amount of symbolism, and a wealth of fine details. What it does or does not accomplish narratively is another story, however, and in that respect the movie is one of the least of Miyazaki’s titles.

In the story, which is set in 1945 Japan, Mahito is a boy whose mother is killed in the firebombings of Tokyo during World War II (specifically, March 9-10 1945), much like protagonist Seita from Studio Ghibli’s Grave of the Fireflies. Unlike Seita, though, Mahito’s father is still around and both move out to the countryside to live at the family home with his pregnant aunt. There Mahito encounters the titular heron and its connection to a mysterious, ruined tower nearby, one that belonged to a great uncle who mysteriously disappeared decades earlier. Naturally, Mahito investigates once he learns that the heron can talk, and that sends him on a world-hopping adventure when his aunt goes missing.

That’s a perfectly fine set-up, but the biggest problem is that Mahito just isn’t that compelling as a protagonist. Compared to the likes of a Nausicaa, Ashitaka, or Chihiro, he has little character or distinguishing traits, beyond resorting to self-harm to get himself out of problematic relationships at his new school. He’s handy and determined, but that’s about it, and he doesn’t feel like he’s carrying the expected emotional baggage. This hampers the film greatly in the late stages, making some attempts at emotional resonance feel a bit flat. A second problem is that the movie operates at a smooth and gradual pace for much of its run, only to rush its climax and cut its follow-up short. Because of this, one character who doesn’t appear at all until near the end has an outsized role in the climax. The justifications for certain actions – like why the aunt wanders off, for instance – are also poorly-developed and explained.

Despite these problems, the movie still has a lot of admirable content. The artistic style may not be the crispest we’ve seen from Ghibli, but it is so rich in detail that a second viewing may be necessary to catch it all, especially little things like how furniture or even roof tiles look worn from weather and/or usage. The animation is amazing, and the venues and character and critter designs don’t lack for variety and expressiveness. Symbolism – which Miyazaki is certainly no stranger to using – is also liberally scattered throughout the project, and often a bit subtler than that seen in films like Spirited Away or Howl’s Moving Castle. This site provides a good breakdown of details that those not raised in Japanese culture might not catch. Some of the symbolism present here may also be speculative; I’ve heard a theory that the mysterious tower is meant to represent Studio Ghibli, for instance, and certain characters are meant to represent certain prominent Ghibli personnel. I am inclined to believe this, since too many details fit too neatly into that interpretation, including how some characters look suspiciously like characters from other Ghibli titles, the way the tower accesses other worlds, and some other details that are too spoilerish to bring up here.

Despite some flaws, this is still a movie well worth seeing. It’s just not one of Miyazaki’s best and not the anime movie released in 2023 that’s most worthy of an Academy Award nomination.

Overall Rating: B+

The Eminence in Shadow, episode 30

Rating: B+

As I watched this week’s episode, I was struck by the thought that I have been overlooking one big inherent irony: Shadow Garden’s behavior is itself very cult-like, especially in the way it idolizes and even (in some cases) outright worships Shadow. That comes through clearly in the different reactions of 559 and Epsilon to Cid. Epsilon clearly loves him, but 559’s reaction to watching Cid eat the fruit she served him goes beyond that. She likened Shadow to a god last episode, and I think it’s pretty clear that she now sees him that way. Would Cid be flattered or horrified if he ever realized that?

The opening part of the episode, where Lambda is asking about Rose, also brings up another point: one of the inherent flaws of an organization built around an eminently-powerful figure is that there is no recourse to challenge that figure’s whims if a member disagrees with something the leader is doing but is still loyal to the cause overall. That’s the kind of thing which can cause schisms in the long run. We’re nowhere near in danger of this yet, even with the incident concerning Rose factored in, but the seed of it may at least exist here.

The real core of the episode, though, is about what’s going on with Rose in the Oriana Kingdom. The presumption at the end of last episode was that Rose was being coerced to cooperate against her mother’s safety, and while that proved to be true, the irony is that her mother not only wasn’t at risk, but may have even been cooperating willingly. While she’s almost certainly not a co-conspirator or Cult of Diablos member, she’s certainly acting here like Perv seduced her. However, this again raises the question about why Rose’s mother can’t just take over the throne. Why does does it have to be Rose when Perv could just marry the mother instead? It may be that the Cult wants Rose specifically because she’s a Possessed, or (less likely) that the mother is past childbearing age. A bit more elaboration on the political and succession structure in Oriana would certainly be welcome, as right now this just looks like a mechanism for putting Rose in this predicament.

The differing ways each involved party is reacting to this is also interesting. Rose feels fatalistically trapped in this scenario, while the Seven Shadows are, somewhat surprisingly, hesitant to be too judgmental since they feel at least partially culpable for the scenario. (Allowing Rose to go on this mission without informing her about her mother’s status was an uncharacteristically bad miscalculation.) Cid, meanwhile, was clearly upset at first over his plans for Rose being thwarted, but now that he’s calmed down he’s being remarkably sympathetic. His words to Rose about how he can relate to her because she’s also bucking convention (with her desire to focus on swordplay in a kingdom not fond of it) don’t sound like his normal Shadow shtick, so this might be the most honest we ever see Cid being.

Of course, this series being what it is, it can’t take things too seriously. The jokes populate the episode aplenty, whether it’s Lambda doing her best rendition of a tired tour guide, the overly-optimistic amorous guard in the garden, Cid using his powers to escape from a clingy maid or steal jewelry during his piano performance (and somehow not getting noticed at this), or Cid unwittingly filching the item at the center of the whole Oriana Kingdom scenario. The very pointed emphasis on Cid enjoying the cookies while dealing with Rose is also par for the course; Cid would hardly be the first anime character who doesn’t let even high drama stop him from enjoying his snacks, but how in-your-face the series is about it without letting it distract from the main events of the scene is somehow terribly amusing. So, too, is episode’s pointed emphasis on jiggling bosoms; how far Epsilon is going with making her falsies seem realistic is almost as funny as Cid’s dispassionate analysis of both her slime-created ones and the maid’s real ones.

So what’s Cid’s “Plan B” in this scenario? Looks like we’ll find out next episode, but I’m sure it won’t disappoint.

The Apothecary Diaries, episode 9

Rating: A-

One of the major factors which makes this series a top-tier title for both the season and year is its effortless ability to mix its comedic and serious components and still excel at both. Episode 9 is a great example of that. Many other series could stand to use it as a model. (I’m looking at you again, Kingdoms of Ruin.)

On the humorous side, watching someone as elegant and proper as Gyokuyou continue to bust a gut over Maomao’s highly misleading explanation about how she awarded Lihaku for being her guarantor is entertaining in itself, but so is Maomao’s reaction to getting her hands on some alcohol. (Given her background, it’s really not surprising that she would have had opportunities to develop a taste for it young.) Jinshi is a little too sharp to always be the victim in such situations, though, and so seeing him get back at Maomao a bit with the probably-made-up-on-the-spot proposed law about changing the legal drinking age was quite fitting. The explanation for why Maomao isn’t allowed to touch corpses is also fitting, as is everyone’s reactions to hearing it; Maomao even seems to sheepishly acknowledge that her father wasn’t wrong about her on this point.

But two people are also dead this episode, and the series continues to deliver on taking things more seriously when it needs to. Both cases initially look like either accidental deaths or suicide, but neither may be. The first case – involving an older male servant that Jinshi was close to – may be a more accidental homicide than an intentional one, since deliberately killing someone that way would require some extremely specialized knowledge. However, we’ve had no indication that the mystery behind the poisoning at the garden party has been solved, and while that is still outstanding, a possible connection cannot be ruled out. Same with the death of the female servant in the moat. The manga and novel versions clarify that bodies turning up in the moat aren’t that rare, whether from suicide or a failed escape attempt, but as Maomao points out here, women with bound feet in particular would have difficulty making the climb up the wall, and the state of her fingers suggests that she at least tried to climb out of the moat. This more strongly suggests deliberate murder, perhaps the disposal of someone who knew too much, and looks far more suspicious.

The episode’s strongest content spins off of that. Maomao has mentioned matters of mortality in a matter-of-fact fashion on many occasions, and going into a contemplative mode is a staple for her. However, I believe that this is the first time that the two have been connected, especially concerning her own mortality. Seeing whoever it was in the Verdigris House annex last episode and the dead servant in this episode have apparently given Maomao cause to consider how she might die herself, which engenders her unsettling request of Jinshi. That she sees this as a practical request, while Jinshi is clearly upset by having to even consider it, shows the continuing disconnect between the two, but that’s both logical and a storytelling necessity at this point. Even though their paths have intersected, they still come very different worlds.

The bonus at the end of the episode is a new lead on the incident from a few episodes back, the one with the chemically-treated boards and the burnt dress. Now we know who was likely wearing that dress, and that the lady-in-waiting in question was thus likely connected to those treated boards, but not why. That character is scheduled to appear next episode (along with a repeat appearance by Lishu), so the greater plot at work behind the scenes is starting to advance more distinctly. That promises some interesting developments for next episode, too, but this one is still a good one.

The Eminence in Shadow, episode 29

Rating: B

The prostitute Marie was shown too prominently back in episode 21 for her to not pop up again later, so it’s little surprise that her reappearance comes as the story shifts to what Cid was doing after he stepped out of the picture for a while at the end of episode 27. Unfortunately, her decision to open up an inn in the Oriana town of First Fort was an ill-timed one, for she has gotten caught up in a veritable civil war over succession to the Oriana throne – a crisis that was, of course, predicated by Rose’s actions in episode 19. Hence we have two of the story’s loose ends converging here as Cid arrives on the scene. To further elevate the coincidence level, the much-used 664-666 trio is on the job here, too, for reasons that are initially unrelated. One has to wonder if anyone else in Shadow Garden is out doing missions at this point. . .

Actually, the presence of Rose’s squad isn’t a coincidence at all, given that Oriana’s royal family has a home here. And it seems like 559 has a bone to pick with her too, since Rose is the only other individual in the organization outside of the Seven Shadows and 559 herself to get her power directly from Shadow – in other words, she was personally recruited by Shadow rather than the Seven Shadows. Exactly how that happened has yet to be animated (and may never be, unless she continues to be a prominent character), but other online sources indicate that she did have a cameo in season 1: she was one of the two people fighting as Rose was led into Alexandria by Alpha. (The other was the 89 briefly mentioned in this episode.)

Really, you have to feel at least a bit of pity for Rose here, as the only people who are even somewhat looking out for her are 664 and 665, and that’s not saying much. Her mother is (most likely) being coerced to help the Cult of Diablos, 559 is trying to kill her mother and calling Rose a traitor when she jumps to defend her mother from 559, and Shadow Garden (or at least Gamma), the Cult of Diablos, and Shadow all are trying to use her to their own ends. Why exactly the Cult wants her isn’t clear, but her being the rightful successor to Oriana’s throne probably has something to do with it. Shadow Garden, meanwhile, seems content to let her be in the Cult’s clutches for now to draw out some of the Cult’s key leadership, and Cid/Shadow has struck on the notion of setting Rose up as a tyrant-queen that he can later defeat in showy fashion. Really, she’s pretty screwed.

This whole scenario also raises another question: can’t the queen (Rose’s mother) take over the government and thus prevent the civil war? Or is Oriana a state where woman cannot take the top spot?

Regardless, and as usual, no one is on the same page here. Cid is also personally back in action, whether it’s mixing in a bit of Robin Hood, re-invigorating 559, or his very condensed account of all the scenarios he tried while trying to figure out the coolest way to take advantage of this situation. This does not result in the season’s sharpest wit (hence the somewhat lower grade), but the episode still touches plenty enough of the normal bases.

The Apothecary Diaries, episode 8

Rating: A-

Maomao’s back home, so naturally she’s going to get involved in a brothel-related mystery while there. Actually, two arise, and both are left open-ended, though in dramatically different ways.

The first is what initially appears to be an attempted double-suicide involving a courtesan and a customer. However, a few things don’t add up, not the least of which is the awful reputation of the customer. Really, a courtesan he jilted trying to poison him should have been a tip-off that the guy needed to change his ways, but he’d hardly be the first man who let his arrogance and vices override his common sense. The most interesting aspects of the case, however, are not the case itself but the other details involved. We’ve already seen that Maomao can forcefully take action when the situation demands it, and the scene where she attempts to revive the courtesan and guide another one to revive the man is her in action at her very best. Her father arriving at the scene also shows us who Maomao learned to be such an accomplished detective from, and perhaps also a bit about how she learned to restrain herself from getting too deeply involved. Then there’s the hints of the bigger picture here and the strong – but not certain! – suggestions that the courtesan responsible for the poisoning (which was clever but risky) may not have acted alone. We probably won’t ever get more details about that case, but that’s kind of the point here: sometimes knowing the full story isn’t always the best thing.

The other, far shorter mystery in this episode is who, exactly, Maomao visited in Verdigris’s annex after her bath with Meimei. It is also left open-ended, but based on the way Maomao acts, the strongest implication is that this is either her mother, who has not even been mentioned previously. Whomever it is, we can infer a couple of things: that she’s in an annex of Verdigris means that she was a courtesan, and that she’s in a darkened annex probably means she’s in this setting’s equivalent of hospice care. Given that, her not being shown fully may be a blessing. After all, syphilis has already been mentioned in this setting, and the late-stage effects of that are not pretty. If this is her mother, and she was a Verdigris courtesan, then all the pieces would fit about why Maomao was raised around brothels and is considered a little sister by its aces. Like with the cryptic comments by Maomao’s father, there’s definitely more to the story here.

But the mysteries don’t take up all the episode, allowing the last few minutes to be devoted to the comedy side of things. Not sure if I should feel sorry for Lihaku or not, as his future finances aren’t looking great but he certainly looks to have gotten one hell of an experience for it. (Which probably also means that Maomao has earned a permanent ally in Lihaku.) Much better, though, are Jinshi’s reactions. Maomao still only seems to understand the practical, rather than full symbolic, meaning of the hairpin, so why Jinshi is upset that he wasn’t the one relied on is a bit understandable, but his reaction to Maomao’s description of her “repayment” to Lihaku is priceless. I’m not entirely clear if Maomao accidentally or deliberately said things in such a way that she made Jinshi imagine she did it herself (either is possible, given the way her mind has worked at other times on sexual content), but the reactions of the others outside – especially Gyokuyou – were also priceless. The latter is getting so much amusement out of Maomao that she doubtless has no regrets about taking Maomao on as a lady-in-waiting.

Overall, this episode had a little bit of everything which makes this series so great, hence the high rating.

The Eminence in Shadow, episode 28

Rating: A-

What self-respecting anime series with a bevy of sexy ladies in its cast – especially one with a reputation for pointed use of fan service – wouldn’t have one or more of a beach, water park, or hot springs episode? With Cid gone for a season (in fear of the girls’ displeasure with his recent antics), the girls get to play. . . er, puzzle out Shadow’s true intent in “allowing” school pals Skel and Po to use passes for Mitsugoshi’s exclusive hot springs debut to ask Mitsugoshi girls out on a group date. No, really. That’s what they’re actually doing. Yeah.

The series’ signature irony certainly applies here: the whole thing harkens back to a fickle comment Shadow made years earlier about finding the Dragon’s Tears, which led to the discovery of the hot spring, and that it turns out that the legend about the Dragon’s Tears was actually real. Let’s also not forget the signature irony that the Seven Shadows take a situation predicated on a stupid lie (but this time by Skel and Po!) and blow it up to a comically dramatic level. However, the defining task and mystery both take a back seat to the episode’s real focus: the girls at play.

And play they do. (Whether they admit they’re doing that or not.) That allows all of the Numbers and their chief subordinates chances to show off their personality quirks as well as their bodies, and that’s where the real fun lies. The much-underused Eta in particular is a joy here, but so is Delta’s unrestrained stupidity and playfulness, Beta’s raging insecurities, and the little slips starting to creep into Alpha’s normally-serious, collected disposition. Little treats can also be found in the look at some of the subordinate Shadow Garden members, such as the way they meaningfully file out of the meeting room when the Seven Shadows are going to have their contest to see who goes on the group date or Nu’s expressions as she reacts to Skel and Po at the beginning. Also watch for a couple of cameos by a certain vampire princess and her maid.

One of the highlights, though, is the Seven Shadows using the costumes shown in the screen shot, which are the same ones they used in the first season opener. The latter use felt like it was making a point, a contrast between the super hero-ish nature of Shadow Garden and their actual “in the shadows” activities, but this use – under the guise of “we don’t want to expose our true identities” – is a cleverly ironic spoof of something that was itself a spoof. Let’s not forget the grainy movie strip flashback or the puppet theater show illustrating the story of the Dragon and the Princess, either.

Sid/Shadow is the story driver, but this episode shows that both the girls and the series in general can get along without him when needed.