Back to infinitegreen0's Profile infinitegreen0's Profile

*Pre-review note: Cocoon was originally released as 60-minute TV broadcast in 2025, and then released to international theaters in 2026 with an hour-and-a-half runtime (some sites put it at two hours, but that's counting a bonus interview with the composer than played post-credits). My review is about the theater version, which is the only one I have seen.*

From a purely production standpoint, Cocoon is a fascinating project: key animators included Akihiko Yamashita and Shinji Otsuka, longtime ex-Ghibli veterans boasting an eye-popping track record; it marked the directorial debut of Yukimitsu Ina, who was either just 27 or 28 years old for its TV broadcast release; ... and the composer Kensuke Ushio was experiencing a meteoric rise of international recognition that started with A Silent Voice (2016) and continued with works like Chainsaw Man (2022, 2025) and Dandadan (2024).

This gathering of intergenerational talent is complimented by Yukimitsu's desire that Cocoon, despite being a work of historical fiction based on true events, should feel "timeless" to the viewer. The result is a film that combines the wonder of the Ghibli era, the jarring intensity of wartime reality, and that elusive artistic spark which enables an individual story to transcend its particular time and place in order to speak to our shared humanity.

And on that note, I respectfully disagree with some of the reviews here that criticize Cocoon for not engaging directly enough with the behaviors and staggering ethical violations of both Japanese and American soldiers. First, I would point out that the film's harrowing "show don't tell" approach to the horrors of war captures an especially delicate emotional complexity that blunt dialogue would likely trample. Second, we should also consider the film's overarching narrative framework: the friendship between San and Mayu (and to a secondary degree, the rest of the schoolgirls). Practically speaking, more screen time spent directly analyzing the soldiers would mean less for the girls — and that's including the fact that the original TV release was just an hour long.

Finally, and I believe most importantly, is how the film's central theme, a cocoon, evolves amidst San's internal character progression. I can't go into exact details due to spoilers, but approximately the final 10-15 minutes (i.e. the last two major scenes) make it clear that Cocoon — while certainly acting at times as a profound denouncement of atrocious wartime choices — ultimately aims to present a message beyond pure condemnation and toward something impossible to capture with words alone; something between the known and the unknown, where meaning is found. The film understands that, sometimes, taking *too* direct an approach to violence and tragedy can numb viewers to any message beyond "this is horrifying." Cocoon constantly utilizes this indirect, symbolic approach to convey appalling events without sensationalizing them; to honor the girls without capitalizing on their suffering; and to peer within a terrible abyss without losing sight of the life that waits beyond it.

In short, it is a story about profound endurance and unimaginable strength in otherwise absurd, incomprehensible circumstances. 10/10

(Note: the quote by Ina can be found in the post-credit interview for the theatrical release.)

Due to the enigmatic maneuverings that increasingly define modern streaming rights, the first half of Smoking Behind the Supermarket With You are currently available in the form of 12 "minisodes" (i.e. six full episodes) which the anime is expected to catch up to in mid-August (so keep that in mind for reviews — as of writing this — claiming 12/12 episodes watched). That said, here are my thoughts so far:

Smoking Behind the Supermarket is an excellent slowburn romcom entry, and despite being tagged as "Love Status Quo," I've been impressed at how each episode has meaningfully contributed to a new and entertaining aspect of Sasaki ... and Yamada's budding relationship. I also went into the show worried that the scenes between them would get sidelined by filler content in order to stretch out the show, but the writers' strike a healthy balance that encourages light plot progression without detracting from key romantic moments.

Both the animation and character designs are well done, and the dialogue dances between humorous, serious, and feel-good moments. Sasaki's VA is unfortunately forced into the all-too-common trope of a jittery male protagonist who perpetually sweats on-screen and displays the inner confidence of a potato, but his performance nevertheless cuts through as a sincere, likeable, and kind-hearted; it also helps that Sasaki is much older than the usual male protag, meaning he doesn't regress into a braindead horndog the moment his and Yamada's casual flirting takes on a bit of an edge. But the real star of the show is Yamada's VA, who deftly flips between the winsome Yamada and the laidback Tayama: in a medium saturated with high-pitched, giggly (and often moaning) feminine caricatures, Tayama's mature and down-to-earth delivery is more than refreshing and matches the show's tone and direction.

Something I also liked about this anime is that the premise leans into an activity that has generally fallen out of favor with younger generations, but without coming across as a thinly veiled corporate ad (I assume it's release alongside Chainsmoker Cat is a coincidence, but *boy* what an insane summer combo). Finally, the OP and ED of the minisodes are great, and it was announced that new ones will be included for the full episodes that follow (including those that cover the minisodes).

TLDR: Smoking Behind the Supermarket With You is deceptively simple in its appearance — an overworked corporate slave regularly joins a playfully roguish grocery store worker on her smoke break — but delivers a slowburn romance that feels both familiar and unconventional. And despite a somewhat tropey male protagonist, the chemistry between Sasaki and Tayama is tangible and I've appreciated that most of their dialogue is driven by a genuine interest in each other.

I haven't read the manga (yet) and while there isn't much in the way of a conventional plotline, the story nevertheless has the potential to develop some real emotional stakes if it's willing to take some risks. In any case, this is a fun and relaxing watch that does little to irritate viewers and a lot to draw them in. 8/10

Jujutsu Kaisen S3p1 marks a welcome return to the show's S1 roots — compared to the chaotic cluster**** that was the Shibuya incident, the opening arc for the Culling Games is more methodical both in its narrative and combat.

The sprawling cast bloat of S2 is switched out for a focused core of protagonists, and parallel to this, major antagonists receive significantly less screentime. This re-balancing leads to an increase of one-on-one battles that are better paced, more coherent, and dialogue rich; the latter is an especially welcome change from S2, which by its end had developed a neurotic dependence on the tragic mid-to-end battle flashback ... — at best rendering a character's demise frustratingly predictable, and at worst devolving their final moments into a kind of macabre punchline. This kind of emotional outsourcing in storytelling is best used sparingly, and S3p1 thankfully exercises more self-restraint than before.

Unfortunately, these changes come with their own trade-offs: critical battles featuring eye-popping set pieces tend to either be underexplained (at least to an anime-only viewer) or so overwrought that it sounds like the narrator is reading from a car manual. And while the protagonists have more balanced screentime between each other, upwards of four plotlines playing out simultaneously still means that little narrative progress can occur outside of someone getting their teeth knocked out.

In medieval Europe, farmers struggled with overplanting and harvesting, which led to vital nutrients gradually being stripped from the soil. To combat this degradation, the "three-field system" was developed and popularized: plant one set of crops in the first year, a different set in the second, and leave the field empty in the third to allow for regeneration. Interestingly, what at first looked like an underuse of available resources actually turned out to be the best way to consistently reap large harvests year after year.

JJK, like so many other Shōnen, has fallen into the same trap: by frontloading nearly all of its character development in its first season and saturating the second with nonstop fighting, the third season paradoxically comes across as an abundance and a famine of both. Protagonists are faced with morally complex decisions, yet those same characters have already hardened into their respective roles — Yuji as a "cog," Maki on her familial Kill Bill revenge streak, Yuta as an affable winning machine — which makes their choices feel predetermined and devoid of personal complexity; likewise, the fights appear more coordinated and guided by strategy than OP techniques, yet they are also overburdened by a rapidly inflating and obscure rules system that can sometimes feel a paper straw you use once and then throw away.

The characters remain likeable and the fights are exhilarating — no, seriously, JJK is at the leading edge of combat animation and it's well worth watching — but that initial spark that previously made the show so irresistible seems to have faded; and the longer the series continues without restoring its "nutrients," the more writers will be compelled to cash out on the audience's tolerance for fights that are becoming increasingly disconnected from the underlying emotions that should support them.

TLDR: JJK S3p1 brings a much-needed sense of focus to its narrative and combat after the insanity of the Shibuya arc, but like a pendulum, swings too far in the other direction. Audiences are constantly swamped with a deluge of hyper-specific rules requiring daunting bouts of exposition that would be better spent on characters actually talking to each other — except that the characters themselves have essentially halted in their development. The result is twelve episodes of combat that are downright stunning and animated with jaw-dropping cinematic skill, but the overall season misses the heart that initially propelled the series forward. 7/10 (should be a 7.5, but MAL)

I write this review without any nostalgia glasses: SAO was released more than fourteen years ago as of writing this, and this was my first viewing of the anime. Shockingly I went into it with no spoilers, and was only vaguely aware of the character Asuna because a friend had mentioned her when he recommended the show to me.

To be blunt, I hated the show. The pacing was okay until the halfway point, and then it spiraled into back-to-back episodes of pointless plot devices and corny developments, and culminated in a finale that was equal parts dull, annoying, and downright weird. Even worse, however, was ... the writing and fan service, and despite all the impassioned articles, forums, and Reddit threads defending Asuna and other female characters as strong-willed and intelligently written, they came across to me as nothing more than shallow romantic fodder for the protagonist. Due to its fame SAO has become somewhat of a origin story beacon for the bland, cookie cutter isekai male protagonist and his pseudo-harem of princess tower gals, and while there are certainly worse examples of it out there in the endless sea of annual anime debuts, SAO ultimately doesn't provide enough redemptive material to make up for its fatal flaws.

That said, I can understand why it became as popular as it did, and to some extent remains so: the premise of the show is genuinely interesting, even if it's not the most original out there, and it hit a nerve at the right time and took off (The Hunger Games pulled off a similar maneuver, despite the clamor from Battle Royale fans). And while I maintain that the writing for the female characters is consistently subpar, the scenes between just Asuna and Kirito are surprisingly sweet; for all the shows fumbling it does manage to be consistently heartfelt. Also, while I can't vouch for any of the later seasons, I appreciated that the world-building and combat system had not become overly convoluted by the closing episode (though this did, ironically, result in a pretty lame deus ex machina at the end).

TLDR: SAO doesn't do anything particularly well, and it mishandles certain elements — mainly its writing and pacing — quite badly. There's a layer of charm and likability that occasionally shines through, particularly when the show focuses on Asuna and Kirito, but most of the time the audience is more or less subjected to uninteresting plotlines punctuated by either lukewarm combat or increasingly uncomfortable fan service. 3/10

When it comes to the typical categories of praise — animation, music, world-building, story, VA, etc. — Witch Hat Atelier strongly delivers in every category, and for that reason alone this anime is undoubtedly worth your time. But assuming that most other reviews are going to cover those topics in close detail, I think it's worth zooming out in order to appreciate how WHA also makes significant contributions to the fantasy genre and Seinen publications:

**The Fantasy Genre**
Already some media outlets are suggesting the emergence of a "Big Three" in modern fantasy anime: Frieren: Beyond Journey's End, Delicious in Dungeon, and WHA. Whether or not you ... agree with that designation — admittedly, only Frieren has progressed beyond a first season — one should at least consider why these three pair so well together, and what traits they share that could help explain their meteoric success:

1.) The blending of subgenres is pronounced: Frieren is as much SOL as it is high-octane action, DiD combines dungeon exploration with an educational and even ecological approach to storytelling, and WHA draws elements from SOL and CGDCT without binding itself to either category. By embracing this kind of narrative fluidity, each entry stands to benefit from the strengths of a given subgenre without becoming subservient to its worst tendencies.

2.) All three conspicuously avoid gratuitous fan service and feature not just one, but a range of complex, multi-faceted female characters that resist a singular "trope" label. And while such characters are presented in a distinctly contemporary visual style, their writing and development feel something like a return to the era of Studio Ghibli storytelling: contemplative, individualized, and where narrative inertia is driven just as much by internal tension as it is by external conflict.

3.) Each entry is just as intentional about when it chooses to embrace, and not just break away from, fantasy norms. As many reviewers have noted, Frieren borrows heavily from high fantasy tropes and does little to alter many of them, yet balances this with an intense, deeply personal character study of an immortal elf and the inevitable impact of time on every person around her. Likewise, DiD embraces fantasy's preference toward the constant reveal of new creatures and lore, but avoids doing the same with large-scale kingdoms and political factions. Finally, WHA introduces an original magic system but resists the urge to saturate it with an increasingly complicated array of techniques and rules. Instead, it dedicates much of its time toward the human, ethical, and political impact of the system itself.


**The Seinen Industry**
As an "adult" category of storytelling, Seinen is well known for its bracing foray into the political, social, and cultural. With that said, too many entries eventually devolve into nothing more than a bloody, shock value, how-can-we-depress-our-viewers-this-week extravaganza. While I appreciate that we have moved away from the morally simplistic narrative style of Lord of the Rings (which I still absolutely love and marathon every couple of years!), WHA is so refreshing in its distinctly hopeful narrative tone. Coco's wide-eyed sense of wonder is not only interesting but infectious, and the show's visuals embrace this: bright colors, vibrant architecture, attractive fashion design — shockingly, it turns out that audiences sometimes want to *enjoy* the world they have jumped into!

WHA reminds us that "mature" storytelling doesn't simply consist of killing beloved characters for shock value (Game of Thrones) or slowly brutalizing your cast for such a lengthy period of time that it becomes numbing (Jujutsu Kaisen). In fact, heavy themes are both more emotionally impactful and intellectually interesting when you have something to contrast them against; Coco's unadulterated passion for magic is so riveting precisely *because* of how fragile it can be, given the dangers that magic poses to her mother, mentor, and friends.

The ED perfectly encapsulates this approach: compared to the OP it is notably simple and consists only of Coco, holding a glass jar, slowly plodding down a gloomy staircase. The music is similarly threadbare, consisting only of an acoustic track layered underneath a solo artist singing softly, but with increasing emotion. Coco drops the jar, loses her candlelight, and is plunged into an even deeper darkness. Suddenly the staircase lights up, along with Coco, and color rushes into the frame as the soundtrack reaches a climax.

Finally, I think it's worth celebrating WHA as a female authored *and* illustrated work in the Seinen industry! There are others, of course (Ichi the Witch is technically Shōnen but shares in much of what I've written about here), and hopefully we'll see even more in the future.


**A Few Critiques**
- A couple of episodes could at times feel a tad slow (as a SOL lover I didn't mind this at all, but some may feel it drags a bit)
- The season finale is excellent, if somewhat abrupt; I didn't even realize the season had ended until I looked it up!
- I dislike flashbacks within an episode itself; a director should, in my opinion, trust that the audience can comprehend and remember something that happened ten to fifteen minutes ago.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

TLDR: WHA manages to pull off an extraordinary balancing act among the expected elements of a top-tier anime — animation, voice acting, story, and world-building, to name a few — while also making significant and fresh strides within the fantasy genre and Seinen publications at large. But what really sets WHA apart is its undeniable charm and ability to infuse each and every episode with a sense of genuine wonder and intrigue. 9/10 (really a 9.5, if it were available)

"You never realize what you have until it's gone." - Some random quote from Pinterest I found on Google Images.

Despite how many times I have been burned, it seems I will never learn my lesson when it comes to the Shōnen genre. I get pulled in by a story with a fascinating premise, emotional stakes, and a dynamic, vibrant cast of interesting characters, only to watch all of that get thrown away in favor of non-stop fight scenes. JJK season 2 has, like so many others, buckled to this trend.

The Hidden Inventory arc was, to me, a masterpiece; I haven't read the manga so apparently ... the last few episodes of it were a bit rushed by those in the know, but I didn't notice anything wrong with the pacing and could not have been more impressed. Then, the Shibuya arc... yes, the fights are incredibly well animated; yes, the set pieces are stunning; yes, the complex interplay of the combat system makes for some absolutely wild action sequences and plot twists. But overall? It was a pretty critical letdown due to the following:

- Insane cast bloat
- A nearly complete halt of character development
- Back to back to back to back to back to back to back TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK fighting
- Flashbacks being used and abused as nothing more than a brief interlude before a character is killed in the most violent, emotionally jarring way possible, to the point that it became frustratingly predictable
- EVEN MORE FIGHTING
- Techniques and curses and domains and objects and god knows what else becoming SO utterly complicated (at least as an anime viewer) that I had to have a friend personally debrief me after every episode to remind me of the rules that had previously been established and to clarify any new rules introduced, alongside keeping track of the half-dozen different storylines playing out simultaneously

To summarize my central complaint in a word: burnout. I'm not one to shy away from intense storytelling or dark plotlines, but I'm also not a sadist — I'm not interested in watching characters that I've become emotionally invested in be repeatedly beaten senseless (or worse), only for them to go through it again, and again, and again, without anything else to counterbalance the violence.

The Bechdel test famously asks whether any two named female characters had, by the end credits, at least one conversation with each other that wasn't about a man. Perhaps we can now introduce the "Shibuya" test: can a Shōnen feature two characters that, by the end of an episode, had at least one conversation together that wasn't about fighting?

TLDR: As always the animation and VA is stellar, and the Hidden Inventory arc is a miniature masterpiece. And, while there are select *scenes* in the Shibuya arc that I would give similar praise, the vast majority of the second season all but abandons character development and even basic storytelling for a relentless sprawl of chaos and violence that wears out its welcome by the Shibuya arc's tenth episode... and there are eighteen episodes of it in total. That said, the season manages to end on a mostly strong note, though as a viewer I was so emotionally drained by the time it arrived that its impact was significantly muted. 7/10

I typically dislike prequels, chiefly for the reason that it is enormously difficult to present meaningful stakes to the audience: if you have even a rough idea of how the story "must" end — and by extension, which characters "make it" — then it's hard, at least for me, to become personally invested. JJK 0, however, manages to pull this off by centering itself on the psychological and emotional journey of its protagonist. You learn about Yuta's past, his fears, his hopes; you watch him fight, struggle, and change; and the film also takes its time to navigate his budding relationships and development with several ... of the JJK students, his mentors, the antagonist, and above all, his past. While some might dislike this de-emphasis away from action, I felt that it made the moments of high-intensity combat more meaningful and grounded in the overall context of the story itself.

That said, the movie has its flaws: the ending, to me, was somewhat predictable and even a tad anti-climactic. Furthermore, while the antagonist was compelling enough, their sudden appearance with little to no backstory provided — and this paired with a protagonist that is also entirely new to the audience — make the events of the film feel a bit distant from the first season (though that turns out not to be the case!). As others have mentioned the pacing could also sometimes feel off, though it's not nearly as severe as those same reviews make it out to be, and because it's an adaptation of a volume that was released before JJK was confirmed for long-term serialization, certain minor elements can feel a bit "off" (to avoid spoilers, I won't name any here).

Finally, I also think it's worth mentioning that I found Yuta and Rika's backstory to be very emotionally compelling — I don't understand other reviewers' complaints that the pair's narrative was either too shallow (huh?) or unoriginal (admittedly childhood love is a trope in anime, but tropes are not inherently *bad* — it all comes down to execution, and in this case, I believe JJK 0 handled it well). HOWEVER I will say, without any spoilers, that I absolutely *hate* the canonical backstory of Rika's character in the manga and think it was one of the stupidest narrative decisions chosen by Gege and completely undermines the entire point of Yuka's character arc and the meaning behind their childhood relationship. The film, wisely, scrubs nearly all of it from the script... but a single line makes it and, sure enough, it feels pretty jarring during an otherwise emotional moment.

TLDR: JJK 0 takes a more narrow, character-driven approach compared to the first season, and while some may dislike this impact on the film's pacing, I appreciated the depth this brought to the fights, dialogue, and character interactions. And with that being said, the action itself is still incredibly well animated and dynamic! 8/10

I was pretty late to join the JJK train, so by the time I got around to watching the first season I was aware of its somewhat polarizing reputation among anime fans — some claim it's a fresh and exciting take on the longstanding Shōnen format, and others accuse it of being a bland rip-off of previous, better titles. As a result, I went in with pretty low expectations about plot and characters, and simply hoped that there would be some good fights.

And *damn* were there some good fights! Even with today's blockbuster budgets, I couldn't believe some of the stuff the animators were able ... to pull off: everything from the blocking, in-fight monologues, set pieces, and more felt so fluid and cohesive even as everything continuously ramped up in intensity, yet the show never became so overwhelming as to cause me to lose track of what's going on (though I did have to review certain fighting mechanics after some episodes, given that I haven't read the manga and certain explanations could fly by rather quickly).

Even more surprising, however, was how much I grew to like the characters! I especially appreciated how time was taken in the narrative to explore why each major protagonist chose to be a JJK student, and to describe what drives them to stick with such a dangerous and mentally/emotionally draining "career." The constant undercurrent of humor also caught me off guard (in a pleasant way!), and given how tropey and emotionally illterate Shōnen can often be, I was similarly surprised at what I felt were real moments of vulnerability among the characters.

Overall, a very strong opening season! JJK S1 demonstrates that the Shōnen genre is not a one-to-one synonym with mindless action; in the span of twenty-four episodes it manages to balance fighting with lore, character development, humor, and emotionally-driven storytelling. 9/10

I'm honestly surprised that this show has as high a score as it does, and given that the series boasts three seasons and a movie — only one of which is rated below an 8 — I'm clearly missing something and probably dropped the show too early... but I just couldn't do it.

The massive pauses between lines, the sterile, glowing backgrounds, the same gag pulled over and over again with only a hair's breadth of variation between them — it felt as though the writers, knowing that we live in an age of social media, purposefully designed the show to be shredded into ... fine, easily clippable segments that don't depend on any kind of narrative or emotional continuity.

Perhaps this approach changes later down the line, but I just couldn't motivate myself to watch another twenty minutes of the MC produce enough nervous sweat to flood the earth a second time. 3/10

Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible is something of an inverted slowburn, in the sense that it starts off adorable but then slowly transforms into a deeply frustrating viewing experience.

While the male MC is — like 99.9% of all romance anime male MCs — a shy, insecure loner, the premise of him being "invisible" to practically everyone except Kubo is an interesting enough gimmick that provides much-needed direction and continuity throughout the show: the viewer watches as Kubo diligently chips away at Junta's unfortunate "curse" (for lack of a better term), and cute shenanigans ensue. Right?

Wrong — this is exactly where things begin to ... go south.

Whenever a romantically-inclined anime features a central-protagonist-turned-romantic-pursuant constantly fawning over their crush, writers almost always take one of two routes: either have the recipient respond overly positive, or overly negative (Frieren is an example of the rare middle ground). Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible opts for the latter, which in and of itself is not a bad decision; Apothecary Diaries features a constantly bothered female MC, yet the show does not just survive but *thrives* off of Jinshi and Maomao's passive aggressive banter, and of course, the tsundere trope in general is the international mascot of such a narrative approach.

The problem with Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible is that it features a male MC who appears not only emotionally uncomfortable with Kubo's advances, but downright *exhausted* by them. The more the show progresses, the more it feels as though Kubo is inadvertently taking advantage of Junta's social isolation to impose herself again and again on him, despite his constant rejecting of her advances and his repeated verbal expressions of unease.

To make matters worse, Kubo is later shown to become genuinely distressed by these developments, resulting in a negative feedback loop in which she tries harder and harder to win Junta's affections, only for the boy to increasingly associate her with that of a headache. This all culminates in a truly unearned announcement of friendship during the penultimate episode, only for Junta — during what was essentially a date — to later appear more interested in a mannequin than the girl desperately trying to flirt with him.

I'm not here to cast gender-based judgment on whether Junta is the victim of an obsessive girl, or Kubo is the victim of an apathetic guy, (frankly I don't think the writers were thinking that deeply when they whipped up the scripts), but I am nevertheless baffled that the mangaka and/or show writers thought that watching an adorable, heartfelt (if somewhat intrusive) girl get repeatedly shunted by an MC hell-bent on self-deprecation could *possibly* be an enjoyable, let alone heartwarming experience.

What makes this all so disappointing is that the show *does* have some exceptionally charming moments, which in turn make the recurring lows that much lower.

TLDR: Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible has all the ingredients for a cute, mildly original romance anime in which an interested girl persistently attempts to break down the walls of her emotionally unavailable crush. What the viewer ends up getting, however, is a twelve episode grind that feels more like a hostage situation than a blossoming teenage love story. 4/10