2025 brought us multiple passion projects from talented women across the anime industry, and we only hope to be as lucky in 2026.
How did we choose our recs?
Participating staff members picked five titles and ranked them. The only rule was that the series or season had to be complete as of December 2025 or been on the air without a break for over a year. This meant that split-cours and ongoing shows that began in 2025 and are still airing were NOT eligible. They’ll be rolled onto any 2026 lists. We did not have enough film recommendations for a stand-alone post this year, so our Mononoke shout-out has been included at the bottom of this list. .
We always want to emphasize that our recommendations are not meant as a rubber-stamp of “Feminist Approval.” Rather, we aim to highlight shows we found valuable and think might appeal to our readers as well, with any content warnings or caveats that might apply.
How are they ranked?
They’re not, really. We’ve highlighted our “top picks” that received the most staff member votes, but otherwise they’re just organized alphabetically. The team has varying tastes, as do our readers, and we didn’t want to try to put those tastes in a hierarchy.
Hey, you didn’t list my favorite show!
That’s okay! Like we said, we limited ourselves to a Top Five, and everyone has different tastes. If there’s something that slipped under our radar and you think it’s a series other feminist-minded viewers would enjoy, please let us and your fellow readers know in the comments!
Best in Show
Zenshu
Chosen By: Alex (#3), Caitlin (#1), Chiaki (#3), Dee (#1), Lizzie (#4), Tony (#3), Vrai (#1)
Also Previously Recommended By: Peter
What’s it about? Natsuko Hirose became an animator right out of high school, and her TV directorial debut was a massive success. Now she’s working on her hugely anticipated follow-up, but she can’t even seem to finish the storyboards. Struck by a horrible case of food poisoning, Natsuko wakes to find herself in her favorite film: the strange, depressing flop called A Tale of Perishing. Why is she here, and can she change the grim events to come?
Content Warnings: Violence and mass death (including kids), brief fan service, nudity (bathing), alcoholism and suicidality, background character design drawing from anti-Black imagery.
The AniFem team has a special love for the ‘90s flavor of isekai: stories that involved young women being thrown into another world to process the seemingly insurmountable issues in their lives so that they can (often, if not always) return to reality a stronger person. Zenshu is a title precisely in that vein, and also a story about an artist’s relationship with her art, transformative fandom, and how art changes lives. It wouldn’t be a complete recommendation list without it.
Zenshu is very tightly written, spending its first half in goofy vignettes about Natsuko solving her favorite film’s conflicts and inadvertently bringing more depth to its cast in the process—especially the women, who in their source material decades prior didn’t have much time to shine outside of tightly prescribed roles. The second half sets its sights on Natsuko’s own failings, her relationship with the film she’s found herself in, and how her art has created connections over the years, even if she failed to recognize them. It all culminates in a finale that proudly runs on emotional logic and the powerful image of creativity as a light in the dark.
It’s an expertly calibrated character piece (with a lot of great background queerness and gender stuff!), calculated for the reality of a 12-episode run. That reality makes it hard to call its lack of scope a “flaw,” but I still couldn’t help feeling disappointed at how little the show digs into Tsuruyama, the auteur director behind Natsuko’s favorite film. While I don’t think the show ever intended to be about studio culture in a collective sense, there’s enough table-setting of the two as foils that cried out for more exploration, especially as a snapshot of working as a woman leading an original project in two different eras, with two very different endings. Sadly, time constraints reduce Tsuruyama’s appearances to more of a personification of doubt in Natsuko’s mind.
There are other small criticisms—Memmeln’s arc hits but could’ve used more time to breathe, and the fact that Black-coded dryad Chingosman would’ve been drawn so stereotypically in the ‘90s doesn’t really excuse replicating it here. But none of that even begins to eclipse how refreshing it is to see a show so successfully revive a genre I love, with a prickly and often unlikable heroine, as written and directed by two amazing women whose work deserves more attention. Anyone who misses Escaflowne and its like need this on their watchlist.
—Vrai
Runner-Up
Apocalypse Hotel
Chosen By: Alex (#1), Chiaki (#2), Dee (#3), Peter (#1), Tony (#1)
What’s it about? A virus sweeps the globe, infecting plants and making them spew toxic fumes–and all of humanity either leaves or dies. A hundred and fifty years later, a single humanoid robot remains functional in the Gingaro Hotel, leading a team of other robots in the daily upkeep of the hotel, waiting patiently for humanity’s return. It’s gonna happen any day, right?
Content considerations: Existential despair, global apocalypse, death and loss
With all that is happening right now, Apocalypse Hotel speaks to a lot of us. While we are—unfortunately—not a bunch of androids and tanuki aliens from space, we’re nevertheless survivors of a pandemic forced to keep going with the vague but essential hope that things will get better.
There’s certainly other shows that speak to the need to heal and grow, but A-Hotel pulls this off with a level of panache that showcases the production’s love for animation as well as the human spirit. There are beautifully contemplative moments in the series that speak to loss, whether it’s a central theme to a particular episode or a shocking but memorable moment told as an aside. Yachiyo and the ensemble at Gingaro are a testament to all the hardships we all can face.
And yet, at the same time the show is seamlessly rife with comedy and action—so seamless, you can’t help but accept its homage to Evangelion (music and all) toward the end of the series, because it has built a narrative so full of absurdities that the moment fits right in. It’s this beauty and skill in storytelling that lets the show even get away with doing a wedding cum funeral in an episode with a totally straight delivery, letting it hit the emotional lows even as we laugh at how ridiculous it all is.
That dichotomy is especially important today as we live in a world that is tacitly allowing a genocide to play out live on social media, and as a nation’s government decides to abandon its most vulnerable in order to fund concentration camps. Despite all that is going on, Apocalypse Hotel reminds us that it’s okay to find joy and thrive in it, even when everything else is awful.
It’s essential for us to stay silly.
The Best of the Rest
These other titles got at least one vote from a staffer, earning them a spot on our 2025 recs list.
Anne Shirley
Chosen By: Alex (#5)
Also Previously Recommended By: Dee
What’s it about? 11-year-old Anne Shirley has spent her life bouncing between caretakers and the orphan asylum, but her fortunes seem to have changed when she’s called to the beautiful Prince Edward Island to assist aging siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert. Only when she gets there, she’s faced with the revelation that the Cuthberts had sent for a boy, and her new life might be over before it begins.
Content considerations: allusions to child abuse; parental death; death by terminal illness
It’s difficult to separate Anne from her legacy and her history, including but not limited to the massive influence she’s had on children’s literature and anime. While I think it serves you well to have all that context in the back of your mind, Anne Shirley still works as a show in its own right. As my first experience with Anne of Green Gables (and Anne of Avonlea and Anne of the Island, as I understand that this series covers those first three books) it was an enjoyable one, though more like turning the pages of a lovingly crafted scrapbook of a young woman’s memories than a concrete, cohesive coming-of-age story.
Most of the time this works, but the combination of the episodic storytelling style and the large amount of time covered can sometimes put the pacing out of whack, and make it feel like there are no consequences for what should be pretty significant moments. A good example is the famous case of Anne accidentally dyeing her hair green (even I had heard of that!), after which she gets it all cut off. A devastating change for her, I’m sure… which we don’t see, because by the start of the next episode she’s back to her regular character design with the long braids. Childhood memories can be ephemeral, but that’s no excuse for plot events having no staying power. I’d be interested to hear from fans of the source material about what else got cut or glossed over, and how this compares to other versions.
Still, I found that most of the more emotional moments—the deaths of family members and friends, big choices Anne makes about her life and career—land with the weight that they ought to. This show does whimsy and wonderment very well, but it can also pull out an atmosphere of melancholy when it wants to; though it deploys this sparingly and carefully to create an overall air of comfort and hopefulness. That’s the Anne guarantee, after all: she’s been through a lot of hardship, but she always comes out the other side determined to carry on, fight for her own autonomy, and protect those she cares about and what she believes is good in the world.
She’s a great, strong character who you can’t help relate to and root for, and as much as those pacing decisions bugged me sometimes, it was genuinely very rewarding seeing this show capture so much of her life and let me watch her grow up from mischievous, creative little kid into a clever, independent young woman, maturing but never losing that sunshiney core. I’m sure many long-time fans might argue that this isn’t the best adaptation for a variety of reasons, but if my happiness and heartache is anything to go by, it’s a pretty solid entry point. I can see why she’s a heroine for all eras and all ages.
-–Alex
The Apothecary Diaries — Season 2
Chosen By: Caitlin (#4), Cy (#3), Dee (#2), Lizzie (#5), Peter (#2)
What’s it about? Maomao is tasked with helping Gyokuyou through her second pregnancy and continuing to offer care and education through her clinic. But political machinations are always simmering in the background, and Maomao has begun to wonder about Jinshi’s relationship to the emperor.
Content warnings: discussions and depictions of illness and medical procedures; non-consensual sex work; forced pregnancy (for political marriage purposes); threats and discussion of sexual assault and abuse; parental abuse; explicit discussion of pedophilia and child rape; sexual harassment
The Apothecary Diaries would have had to flub its second season pretty hard for it not to make the list after a phenomenal first season. With its angry-cat heroine Maomao solving medical mysteries, deliberate examination of inner court power dynamics, and thoughtful depictions of sex work, it was always a shoo-in for powerfully feminist themes. The second season ramps up the plot, bringing together all of the various threads, hints, and even throwaway lines from the first into one heartrending conclusion.
One of the greatest themes of this season is the harm caused by the cycle of abuse, even when the victim seems to brush it off. The memory of the previous emperor, whose preferences for prepubescent girls had been referred to offhand before, haunts the story like a ghost, as the women he raped when they were just children struggle to reconcile with the long-lasting effects alongside the next generation, who still feels their echoes. The empress dowager, who gave herself to him as a tool for her family’s power and barely survived giving birth at just ten years old, fears that her resentment both for his abuse and his abandonment when she grew from a child herself into a woman cursed him. Although the episodic stories still meander and go down narrative culs-de-sac, it is always engaging.
Meanwhile, Maomao’s friendship with the other girls in the inner court deepens. Her friendships with Xiaolan, Gyokuyo, and season newcomer Shisui are her greatest motivating factors throughout the season. While Jinshi is certainly important, the care and emphasis put into Maomao’s female friendships displays that this will never become just a romance, and keep Maomao feeling like a well-rounded person.
The one thing that may – and indeed, discussion with other fans has proven this to be true – put some people off is Maomao’s relationship with Jinshi. The two’s relationship has evolved considerably, going from him fixating on and teasing her to one of mutual respect and affection. In Jinshi’s eyes, that makes them equals; however, Maomao is still keenly aware of the enormous power difference between them. Jinshi has always had a blind spot toward just how much power he holds over people, as tends to be the case with the privileged; here, it comes to a head with his advances toward her despite her apparent disinterest. Actually, “advances” isn’t quite the right word; he explicitly tries to initiate sex without getting her consent first, ignoring her oblique attempts to deflect. While I have faith (and confirmation from people who read the novels) that the conversation about consent and power dynamics will continue, his entitlement may make the series too uncomfortable for some to continue. Adding to that is the way the anime frames these scenes as either wacky or sexy, but rarely with the gravity the situation deserves.
I’m being vague about Apothecary Diaries’ merits over its greatest, because watching the story unfold was such a treat and I want others to have a similar experience. If you’re particularly sensitive to depictions of sexual assault, some scenes may be hard going; otherwise, I cannot recommend this show enough, and I can’t wait for the next season.
Ave Mujica -The Die is Cast-
Chosen By: Chiaki (#1), Cy (#2), Tony (#5), Vrai (#5)
Also Previously Recommended By: Dee
What’s it about? On the day of her band Crychic’s triumphant first concert, Sakiko Togawa’s life fell apart. Desperate to hide her dire financial situation and alcoholic father, Sakiko disbands Crychic without explanation and throws herself into the creation of Ave Mujica, a supergroup that’s known only by their stage personas. But Crychic’s fallout is unresolved, and the masks they don aren’t enough to help the Ave Mujica girls outrun their personal demons.
Content Warnings: Flashing lights (opening theme and stage performances); depictions of alcoholism, parental neglect, mental breakdowns/depersonalization; possible incest (long-lost relatives)
Despite its name, this is absolutely not a stand-alone series—Ave Mujica is the direct continuation of 2023’s BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! and is utterly incomprehensible without that context. At the same time, it’s an utterly different beast. MyGO is a scrappy character study whose writing and heart succeed in spite of its inexperienced CGI and rigging artists. Ave Mujica plunges full-on into camp and the hyper real, flexing the extra year of production time with a level of visual polish that’s night and day from its predecessor. MyGO is about girls who find a safe place to by authentic by allowing themselves to admit that the personas they project are put-on. Ave Mujica’s musicians are so thoroughly alienated from a sense of agency thanks to familial and societal pressures that being able to build their own mythos is what finally gives them control over their lives.
It’s all but diametrically opposed, and dammit, it works. Ave Mujica at its best feels like Dear Brother (a comparison that starts to feel purposeful after a while, between the ominous gifted doll and one character lifting Asaka Rei’s backstory almost beat-for-beat), with a melodramatic flair that doesn’t detract from but enhances its ability to embody the larger-than-life emotions of adolescence. The casts challenges vary wildly, such that Nyamu’s everyday struggle to gain a toehold as an influencer against a ticking clock sits right beside the aforementioned mega-rich corporate machinations. The widest swing of all is undoubtedly Mutsumi, a plural girl whose alters have been in conflict since the disbanding of Crychic. I’m certainly not the one speak on that subject, but Chiaki noted that she found Mutsumi an emotionally accurate—if grandiose and dramatized—depiction of things she’s gone through as a plural system.
It’s also, just for icing, really gay. The toxic yuri eating is good here, ranging from the “is this really intense platonic love or romantic obsession” (hence the “possible incest” warning above) to outright declarations of “I fell in love with you.” The popcorn munching is balanced nicely with getting to see the cast slowly crawl their way toward more stable footing. The plotting might get a little muddled in the eleventh hour, but it manages to bring things to a satisfying emotional close. If this truly is the marvelous Yuniko Ayana’s last entry in the BanG Dream franchise, it’s a breathtaking note to go out on.
—Vrai
Campfire Cooking in Another World with My Absurd Skill — Season 2
Chosen By: Cy (#1)
Also Previously Recommended By: Chiaki
What’s it about? Transported to another world, former office worker turned adventurer Mukohda uses his special “online shopping” skill to feed his motley crew of superpowerful familiars who also love his cooking.
This pick for the top anime of 2025 might come as something of a surprise given the amazing docket of shows that came out. Yet I feel like Campfire Cooking season 2 captured something that many series missed: the joy of just existing.
You see, Mukohda never wanted to be isekai’d: it happens and upends his life, even if that life mirrors the hustle-crunch culture we all experience under modern day capitalism. But freed from that, he makes a very specific decision that many modern isekai, and even action-adventure anime set in European-adjacent worlds, don’t do: he decides to be kind and caring and nurturing to the world around him, indulging not in becoming the most powerful, but in the community around him, whether humanoid or beast.
But in this low stakes series, even if we know what’s coming next, it’s not hard to drool over the food, laugh a bit, and feel comforted by a character that feels like a human we all know instead of a media caricature. There’s no gloating or sexual assault or revenge plot, as so many isekai tend to do: instead, what’s crafted here is a low-stakes series that maintains a skillful execution of what makes it good from episode 1 to episode 24. Campfire Cooking is never boring: instead, this is a world that makes you think, “I need something good to eat and someone to share it with.”
All of the cozy, epicurean vibes are still present from the start of this season, but what also feels amplified, even if it’s the same, is the bonds Mukhoda shares with his familiars. They’re all equals, forging a hodgepodge community powered by elemental gods who also get in on the snackage from time to time. What results is a subtle demonstration of non-toxic masculinity, positioning Mukhoda as a willful, eager caretaker who becomes a part of the communities he finds himself in, standing on equal ground even when he pulls out a mythical beast from his infinite storage box. He’s never braggadocious, even though there’s many times he could be. Instead, this is just an exploration of food and finding yourself outside of the fetters of social expectations.
In a time where all hope can feel lost or hard to access, Campfire Cooking is a reminder that to have a village, you need to be a villager and remember to embrace the optimistic while protecting that community. And that doesn’t mean having all the monetary and physical means. Sometimes it just means breaking bread and caring for those around you with a hearty meal that, thankfully, you don’t need to be in another world to access.
—Cy
CITY: The Animation
Chosen By: Caitlin (#5)
Also Previously Recommended By: Dee, Tony
What’s it about? City is a wild place! Tsurubishi runs a family noodle shop with his teenage kids Matsuri and Tatewaku, while Nagumo and Niikura muddle their way through college. And is everybody being monitored by some weird scientist? Every day is an opportunity for new shenanigans.
Content warnings/considerations: Jokes about a boy in a skirt in the first episode, slapstick violence
I know that we all made this comparison when it came out, but CITY: The Animation really does feel kind of comparable to The Busy World of Richard Scarry. It’s the story, not of a single person, but of a whole town’s worth of weird, wonderful human beings (and a few creatures) and their interlocking lives. Some of those connections happen between individuals, between businesses and customers, and sometimes they happen through whole-town events.
Admittedly, the first episode doesn’t quite get off on the right foot. The very first sketch is about a high school boy, Makabe Tatewaku, being told his “lucky item” for the day is a skirt. His little sister Matsuri and father goad him into wearing it, only to mock him once he actually puts it on. It’s a bit of humor at the expense of gender non-conformity, laughing at the very idea of a boy wearing girls’ clothing. It’s a brief gag, but it’s an unpleasantly sharp note in an overall sweet series.
It’s also the only time that sort of joke comes up. The story, if you can call it that, winds and wends its way through the daily lives of the denizens of City. The humor mixes up the mundane and the absurd, creating a mood that is deeply weird, but at times intensely relatable. It also switches modes between bits between one or two people, larger groups, and in some of the best episodes, the whole town. It’s just as comfortable exploring Niikura’s midnight shame snacking as it is showing the whole town coming together for citywide race. The result is joyful and weird and made me laugh out loud at least once per episode. The production by Kyoto Animation reunites the staff of Nichijou, and while CITY works better for me than its predecessor, the jaw-dropping spectacle of the animation speaks to a love of the material.
There is no protagonist to be found, other than every character being the protagonist of their own story. While every member of the ensemble has their moments, I think two groups would be of interest to AniFem readers. The first is the trio of roommates, Niikura, Nagumo Midori, and Izumi Wako. While all of them have their #relatable qualities, Niikura’s pursuit of her lost locket with a picture of Nagumo from high school leads to some of the best cringe-laughs the show has to offer. She responds to embarrassment in the same way that most of us do: joking about dying.
The other group is Matsuri and Ecchan, a pair of middle school best friends whose entire friendship is founded on doing bits together. The bits are of varying funniness as an outside observer; what matters is the joy and connection the two find through it. Their friendship’s interconnectedness and intensity Ecchan’s upcoming move to England is the warp that allows a thread of pathos to be woven into the humor.
Above all else, CITY: The Animation is a celebration of community. It’s about what happens when people live near together, allowing their lives to intersect and bounce off one another. It’s an exaggerated version of the mundane, and it’s a series I’ll be thinking of for a long time.
DAN DA DAN
Chosen By: Cy (#4), Lizzie (#3), Peter (#3)
Also Previously Recommended By: Caitlin, Dee
What’s it about? Ayase just got dumped. More than that, she just got dumped for not wanting to pay for a love hotel for her and her boyfriend. Playing kick-the-can down the halls, she sees Okarun, covered in little paper balls other children threw at him. Why? He believes in aliens. And he wants you to know about them! What a coincidence, because Ayase believes in something a bit strange too: ghosts. And she’s gonna prove to him they exist, whether he likes it or not.
Content warnings: Sexual harrassment, attempted sexual assault; depictions of attempted suicide and mentions of suicide; partial nudity; blood
In many ways, I thought I’d left DAN DA DAN behind due to its very unfortunate decision to end the first half on a cliffhanger threatening sexual assault against protagonist Momo; but somehow, I found myself watching this weekly and sitting down to binge it over the course of my weekend because DAN DA DAN remains a really compelling show when it’s running on all cylinders, and thankfully as a reviewer and critic, I find that for the most part, that’s pretty much all the time.
In this season, we shift focus from Okarun’s hunt for his last golden ball to Jiji’s issue of the Evil Eye that put his parents in the hospital. And speaking of Jiji, on our Fall 2024 podcast, I mentioned that I didn’t like him, and now, I’d like to clarify and flesh out what I meant since Jiji is a huge part of this season: I didn’t like Jiji because of his use of AAVE to indicate him being a foolish character (which is particularly a problem for the English dub script). This is a trope that gets broadly applied a lot in animated media: a character speaks “street slang” which is a direct derivative of how diasporic Black people can and do speak. It’s seen as hip, but also, as a signifier that this character is a bit of a class clown. It is, at its core, racist, relying on a modern trope of Black linguistics to indicate foppishness.
While that problem has been diminished—Jiji has become a much more fleshed out character—it still remains, though it’s been complicated as a facade Jiji puts on in the wake of another supernatural horror that haunts the majority of the season. And what a season this is: we see Momo, Okarun, and Aira is excellent form, taking on a new foe, busting local myths, and generally bringing messy mayhem with them as they figure out the supernatural problem plaguing Jiji that we left off on last fall.
What results is one of the best second halves my eyes have had the joy of watching. There’s so many incredibly laugh out loud moments, both of the natural and supernatural variety. My favorite is Jiji’s exorcism scene: nothing could have set me up for how engaging the sequence and the fact I’d need some acetaminophen to soothe my headache from headbanging. And that’s just a taste of what this season has stuffed inside it. Much like a big bowl of ramen with all my favorite toppings and add-ins, there’s a distinct flavor here that’s gotten me re-invested in the story and I can’t help but find it a better experience.
In a media landscape where anime can easily feel a dime a dozen due to the glut of bottom of the barrel and mid-range isekai fantasy stories, DAN DA DAN is a stark reminder that anime can and should be fun while also having something to say about the broader world around us.
—Cy
The Dark History of the Reincarnated Villainess
Chosen By: Chiaki (#4)
Also Previously Recommended By: Caitlin, Dee
What it’s about: When Konoha Satou was in junior high, she wrote a self-insert fantasy melodrama called “Dark History.” Years later, Konoha’s mother unearths her old cringe fic and tells her about it—just in time for Konoha to get hit by a truck. She reincarnates into “Dark History” as the villainess, Iana, and now has to figure out how to survive in her own story.
Content warnings: Threats of sexual assault; kidnapping; violence; coming face-to-face with your own bad middle school fiction.
Somehow villainess isekai haven’t gone completely stale for me yet, and The Dark HIstory of the Reincarnated Villainess is a good example of how authors keep finding new ways to play with the premise. Konoha getting reincarnated into her own self-indulgent junior high fiction—but as the villainess who dies in the prologue, not as her self-insert heroine—offers a playground for comedy and commentary on how many teenage girls use fiction to work through messy adolescent emotions.
The story feels like it’s in conversation both with puberty and with ‘90s shoujo, where raw emotion and sublimated fears and desires often found an outlet in danger-magnet heroines constantly under the threat of assault (sometimes romanticized, and sometimes just plain horrifying). Konoha not only has to survive as the doomed villainess, she also has to find ways to protect the entire cast from her past self’s bloody melodramas.
In addition to a clever premise and never-boring parade of conflicts (you can feel the “and this happened and then this happened and then this happened” intensity of junior high fiction in the pacing), Dark History was also just a good hang each week. Konoha-turned-Iana carries the narrative with plucky fervor, playing off the other characters both comedically and emotionally.
It’s funny and tense in equal measures, with energetic storyboards and well-placed chibis helping to make up for the limited animation (which I honestly found kind of charming, as it helps evoke that ‘90s anime energy). I’d love for this to get a season 2, but even if it doesn’t, the manga is firmly on my to-read list. Konoha’s disaster fic is simply too much fun not to spend more time exploring it.
—Dee
Kowloon Generic Romance
Chosen By: Vrai (#3)
Also Previously Recommended By: Chiaki, Tony
What’s it about? Reiko Kujirai works at a tiny real estate office in the Kowloon Walled City, a place that draws people in with its nostalgic allure. Kujirai’s only coworker is Hajime Kudo, who she secretly nurses feelings for. Sometimes it seems he feels the same…but they seem to be connected by a past she can’t remember.
Content Warning: Fan service (episode 1), nonconsensual kissing (episodes 1-2); depictions of dysphoria, intersexism, dementia, suicide, parental abuse
What if a fantasy girlfriend started noticing the limitations of her reality? Painting in broad strokes, that is the place where Reiko’s story begins: as a replacement for a woman she’s never met, with no past to call her own and a man who seems to return her feelings but also holds her at arm’s length. Reiko’s journey to define herself as an individual would be enough to recommend this to AniFem readers on its own, but the series is much more ambitious than that.
“Nostalgia” is a watchword of the story, from its setting (as Chiaki put into historical context) on up. It’s a trap that freezes characters in time, slowly poisoning them; but it’s also something that can be transformed and made part of one’s journey to becoming a stronger person. This is especially poignant when Kowloon is such a thoroughly queer story. Pharmaceutical company heir Hebinuma Miyuki’s first appearance comes with overtones of predatory queerness, but they wash away by that episode’s end to reveal a complicated gay intersex man who’s dealing with his own status as a replacement. His boyfriend Gwen is a permanent outsider in his partner’s wealthy surroundings. Sunny Xiaohei loves lolita fashion but no longer feels allowed to enjoy it after going through puberty. Even Reiko’s friend Yaomay, who isn’t textually queer (but I sure am reading her as a lesbian), resonates with the euphoria she finds through body modification. Kowloon is a phantom, but it’s also a place where outsiders can find each other.
It’s also just nice to have a story almost entirely populated by adults, and a narrative sensibility to match. The mystery plot simmers along with a minimum of hand-holding; characters not only talk about their feelings but have sex long before the final credits roll; and it’s melancholy while but also ultimately hopeful. It’s the kind of anime I dearly wish we had more of, and I’m looking forward to both the conclusion of the manga and whatever Jun Mayuzuki makes next.
—Vrai
Maebashi Witches
Chosen By: Vrai (#4)
Also Previously Recommended By: Cy, Dee
What’s it about? Welcome to Maebashi City, Gunma, home to Yuina Akagi. Life is pretty normal until one day, a mysterious frog named Keroppe shows up and asks her if she wants to become a witch, launching her into a dream come true as she finds her magical groove and helps improve the lives of everyone in her city.
Content Warning: depictions of fatphobia, grooming, bullying
Maebashi Witches is a show of modest ambitions. Its character designs and day-glo aesthetic don’t look all that unique on the poster, which caused a lot of people to pass it by; and the witches’ magic is often as simple as a word of encouragement. But that’s what ended up winning my heart. While its idol element seems tacked on in concept, its musical numbers are extremely creative and have a lot of fun creating short thematic music videos for their cases of the week. And much as I love grand stories about girls tearing down the system, it would risk feeling simplistic and even insulting with the very grounded topics Maebashi touches on.
“You might not be able to change this unjust thing by yourself,” the show says. “But you know what you can do…” And its answers are actionable: validate that your friend didn’t deserve creepy DMs from the influencer she likes; reassure another that it’s okay to ask for help; meet your loved ones where they are, and build a kinder and more progressive world one day at a time. Not every subject gets the same depth of exploration—Kyoka’s frustration with her gender identity are nodded toward but not really the subject of her story, and the same is true of Mai’s possible queerness—but the writing is tender and thoughtful throughout, particularly when covering fatphobia and the stresses faced by young carers. It’s a heartfelt, wonderful little show that I can easily recommend sharing with the tweens in your life.
—Vrai
Medalist
Chosen By: Dee (#4)
Also Previously Recommended By: Tony
What’s it about? Fifth grader Inori Yuitsuka dreams of becoming a world-class figure skater but her age stands in the way. She’s “too old” to start training seriously, and her mother refuses to support her out of trauma from seeing Inori’s elder sister’s skating career end in failure. But when she meets former ice dancer Tsukasa Akeuraji, it finally feels like the path to Inori’s dreams is finally opening up.
Content warnings: Classism, terminal illness, depictions of anxiety (panic attacks)
Medalist is, for me, the platonic ideal of a good sports anime. It captures the joys of participating in skating, the different rivalries and relationships that can blossom through it, and leaves you on the edge of your seat about the outcome of each competition. As in staff favorite Yuri on Ice, the animation of the skating routines pops, with the 3D seamlessly integrated with the 2D to create beautiful representations of the deepest emotions and technical prowess of the characters. This show is lovely to look at, thoughtful in its character writing, and just joyful all around.
What really distinguishes Medalist from other sports anime for me, however, is two things: its character writing and its awareness of the ecosystems that skating is dependent on. Inori and Tsukasa are wonderful protagonists, with Inori coming to Tsukasa struggling with anxiety, low self-esteem, and feeling isolated–and skating under Tsukasa’s guidance provides her a space to build her self-esteem, her coping mechanisms, and a meaningful support system from her peers. Tsukasa on the other hand finds ways to connect with her, given their shared history being denied access to instruction at an early age, without over-identification. He doesn’t lean on their shared experience as a crutch, but shows his care through practical support and unconditional positive regard. Tsukasa is a model of truly positive teaching in a way that I’ve almost never seen depicted properly in anime.
Tsukasa’s story also provides a thoughtful window into the economics and conditions of skaters, given he grew up working class and had to largely fund his own skating career, leaving him far behind his peers. The show is honest in its depictions of his internalized classism regarding this, not shying away from his shame about never quite getting to the level he wanted to in his window of opportunity, but also shows him finding his dignity through teaching and the beauty of what he is able to accomplish as a skater. Notable too is that what distinguishes his skating in particular is an almost feminine beauty through ice-dance, which complements nicely his highly masculine (and honestly jacked) physique.
The cast is rounded out with many side characters who get their own, just as compelling, arcs. Rioh in particular is a compelling exploration of how a boy can overcome toxic masculinity through positive relationships with male adult role models. While Medalist ends in a place that would have been a perfectly fine stopping point, we have been blessed with an announcement that another season is on its way. Medalist is a fantastic show, and if you’re hungering for a fun sports anime with a female protagonist that will also make you cry, this is the show for you.
-–Tony
Sanda
Chosen By: Caitlin (#2), Tony (#4)
Content Warnings: gun violence, child abuse, child neglect, bury your gays (depending how you look at it)
What’s it about? Kazushige Sanda has a secret—he’s the descendent of Santa Claus. That comes with Santa Powers, and his deranged classmate and crush Fuyumura is determined to put them to use, whether he wants to or not.
SPOILERS: Because of its importance to the series’ content warnings, the “bury your gays” discussion in this rec contains allusions to a major spoiler
Paru Itagaki works always feel like they are bursting at the seams with different themes, subplots, ideas, and backstories competing for your attention, and SANDA is no exception. SANDA has a lot to say about gender, sexuality, adulthood, and has all of the subtlety of a sleigh running you over. It is a joy to watch, but also at times deeply frustrating. I still think it’s worth watching.
SANDA is mad—I don’t think I’ve seen a show as angry about the fetishization of childhood and the devaluation of queer adolescents since Yuri Kuma Arashi. And likeYuri Kuma Arashi, Sanda is not afraid to display naked queer sexuality onscreen, presenting in the character of Ono an adolescent girl coming to terms with being madly in love with her best friend. Her plot encapsulates much that is powerful and much that is messy about SANDA. We see onscreen her fantasies about having sex with Fuyumura, in scenes where they question the historical roots and contemporary iterations of how they have been prevented from learning much of anything about sex. Her story ends in a way that, while it stands powerfully as a conviction of the organized abandonment of queer adolescents, arguably undermines many of the show’s other themes and completely forecloses the narrative possibilities I was most excited to see come to fruition. Adulthood seems to be, in fact, something actually to fear in this universe, if only because of the strange rituals the society in SANDA has constructed around it. I’m inclined to be relatively kind to SANDA, however, given I would rather a show swing for the fences than constrain itself.
SANDA’s world building effectively skewers the ways that “think of the children!” family values discourses actually end up harming children. The concept of a “trauma-free” curriculum is one of the smartest satirical touches. When we try to make sure that no child ever experiences any pain, any failure, any actual struggle, we create such a circumscribed world for them that they actually are often more harmed and traumatized in the process than if we allowed them to explore the realities of the world in a safe, supported environment. The only way to create such a walled garden is through violent, traumatic policing, represented by the principal, who is one of the most compelling villains I’ve ever seen in a Battle Shonen.
Most compelling, arguably, is the question of dreams. When we cannot imagine a happy future for ourselves, do we lose the ability to dream? The show seems to suggest there is no greater loss than this, representing in literally preventing the children from sleeping so they will delay puberty. This has symbolic purpose: if we cannot dream of a better future, we cannot actually work to enact it. There is no actual possibility for a better life if once you hit puberty you are one foot in the grave–so those who could change the world are taught to think of themselves as disposable. SANDA, more than anything, reminds us that it is never too late to start dreaming and enacting a better future.
–-Tony
Secrets of the Silent Witch
Chosen By: Alex (#4)
Also Previously Recommended By: Dee
What’s it about? Monica Everett, the titular Silent Witch, has a skill no one else has: the ability to use magic without speaking. With it, she’s single-handedly defeated the Black Dragon, a legendary beast known to bring destruction everywhere it goes. Monica has but one weakness: she’s incredibly shy, which is why she learned silent magic in the first place. But that’s all going to change when she’s called on to go on a top-secret mission…
Content considerations: depictions of panic attacks, anxiety, and other trauma responses; brief scenes of in-universe ableism; parental death
It’s amazing how you can endear me to an overpowered, magical prodigy protagonist by unhinging the trope from its usual isekai-light-novel-male-power-fantasy trappings and making this character a nerdy, earnest failgirl. The whole show is an exercise in executing familiar elements in engaging ways—from the aristocratic boarding school setting to the aesthetics of the magic system itself—but Monica is the absolute cherry on top. She’s satisfyingly competent but also consistently out-of-her-depth enough to create story tension, and each arc challenges Monica in entertaining ways, gathering new friends to her side in a way that feels organic rather than the protagonist simply collecting the supporting cast like stickers. There are some lovely female friendships, and the slow-burn beginnings of a sweet romance with the Prince himself (what can I say? I love a nerd 4 nerd relationship).
A highlight of the series is how it handles Monica’s character-defining anxiety. Your mileage will vary with representation of something that can be so personal, but I certainly found Monica and the way the story carries her very rewarding; more and moreso as the show went along. We get plenty of lighthearted goofs (and funny, expressive facial animations and chibi cutaways) from her nervous awkwardness, but it never feels like the butt of the joke, nor does it feel like a generic cutesy trait. This is cemented by the moments in the series that treat Monica’s anxiety more seriously, with grounded depictions of her shutting down in panic; and the suggestion that this is, at least partially, a response to traumas in her past.
For me, at least, this makes her relatable twofold: I found myself laughing along with the comic overreactions and clutching my heart at the more emotional beats where her inability to communicate genuinely causes turmoil for her. Importantly, this is an uplifting and heart-racing fantasy series that skews light rather than dark, and things generally always end well for Monica, whether by her own wits or the connections she’s made. While she gets a little braver and learns to thrive outside of her comfort zone, she’s never “fixed” by the magic of friendship or the sheer force of being thrust into adventure. Instead, the people who come to care for her meet her where she is and support her as she adjusts. It’s sweet, and it’s just so fun, and I have my fingers crossed for a second season so we can see Monica and her relationships (not to mention all that court intrigue!) develop further.
-–Alex
The Summer Hikaru Died
Chosen By: Alex (#2), Caitlin (#3), Lizzie (#2), Tony (#2), Vrai (#2)
Also Previously Recommended By: Dee, Peter
What’s it about? Hikaru was lost in the woods for a full week, and everybody searched for him and couldn’t find him. So what’s he doing back at school? And why does he seem…not quite right? Yoshiki, his best friend, has concerns–but knows, more than anything, how happy he is that Hikaru is back at all.
Content Warning: Body horror, cosmic horror, violence against elders and children, grief, depictions of queerphobia; flashing lights, coded assault (episode 3)
We’ve talked this title up quite a bit over the season, but it bears repeating: this is a very special show. It matches its horror elements with a story that feels naturalistic, situated in a time and place that are painfully real to anyone who’s grown up queer in a small town. It’s unflinching in capturing the everyday violence of microaggressions and how insular communities can be suffocating, but it’s also nuanced in understanding the support networks that can be fostered in small communities, and how previous generations can grow past their own trauma and biases. The most active and sympathetic members of the supporting cast are largely women, and violence against the marginalized is clearly a part of the generational traditions that have poisoned the village of Kubitachi.
It isn’t always an easy watch, but it’s also not a bleak one; though we only know half the mystery at this stage, the arc of this first half is centered on Yoshiki beginning to address his grief by coming to terms with his internalized homophobia. The fantastic writing and art is backed by a production that bursts at the seams with love, care, and technical skill. It’s actually scary, a thing that I rarely get to say as a veteran horror fan.
It’s almost difficult to find the words for a contained recommendation like this, considering the upcoming podcast we recorded about this series made me choke up not once but twice. I will say it at least once more: outside of those with extreme photosensitivity or a total inability to stomach horror, there is no one who shouldn’t be watching this work of art.
—Vrai
There’s No Freaking Way I’ll Be Your Lover! Unless…
Chosen By: Chiaki (#5)
Also Previously Recommended By: Vrai
What’s it about? Renako Amaori has decided to reinvent herself in high school, from anxious introvert to outgoing normie, and part of that is making friends with school starlet Mai Oudaka. Unfortunately, after one good heart-to-heart, Mai declares that she’s fallen in love. Renako isn’t looking for the stress of dating, but Mai proposes a compromise: they’ll alternate being friends and girlfriends and see who can convince the other.
Content Warnings: Sexual coercion, nudity (bathing), light fan service
What, I’m gonna not recommend the poly yuri anime? Putting aside the historical noteworthiness (while not the first anime nor the first yuri series to focus on non-monogamy, it is to my knowledge the first to combine those things), I wasn’t expecting just how satisfying it was to watch a show defined by wacky harem shenanigans turn into an increasingly sincere look at non-traditional relationships.
Easily the biggest hurdle is the show’s first arc, which I’ve discussed elsewhere. In short, Mai’s initial willingness to push Renako’s physical boundaries is a flaw the story takes seriously and that Mai works to correct; but because Mai is such a larger-than-life character who acts almost exclusively in extremes, and because the first half of the show is so heavy on the shenanigans, it feels a bit like the consequences don’t have time to sink in before it’s on to the next wacky scenario.
They’re good shenanigans, don’t get me wrong—I’m rather fond of the bright if breathless sight gags and escalating chains of bad ideas—but it’s when the show reveals its heart that it really draws you in. Satsuki, Ajisai, and Kaho are all grounded by relatable teenage anxieties and struggling with the gap between their insecurities, their public perception, and their ideal selves. Renako is the biggest mess of all, and decidedly readable as being on the aro spectrum in her quest to define the line between friendship and romantic love. Usually by seeing her friends naked and touching their boobs.
It’s tropey as all get-out, but the bathing scenes do actually succeed in feeling like intimate character moments that matter, even if the getting there is sometimes contrived. It’s interesting to watch Renako both do the “but we’re girls” schtick while clearly voicing being turned on by women, and being called out for such by other characters. She’s a sometimes frustrating mess of self-loathing, but I was compelled by her desire to keep one foot in the closet, continually moving the goalposts for what “counts” as girlfriend behavior with an audacity that would make Bandai executives blush.
It’s a weird, sometimes uneven but undeniably ambitious show that I really looked forward to seeing every week; if you’re alright with those early rough patches and some light fan service, I think it’s worth watching. Just keep in mind that the full series isn’t just the 12-episode TV run but also the OVA/film that contains the story’s actual conclusion.
—Vrai
This Monster Wants to Eat Me
Chosen By: Vrai (Editor Bonus Pick)
Also Previously Recommended By: Alex
What’s it about? Hinako Yaotose has been weighed down by guilt since an accident killed her parents and brother, leaving her the only survivor. The quiet fog of her life is lifted when a mermaid named Shiori appears and promises to eat Hinako…when she’s ready.
Content Warnings: suicidal ideation; grief; depression; blood and gore; supernatural body horror
Full disclosure, This Monster Wants to Eat Me is a show I found interesting more than enjoyable. A story with suicidal ideation at its core is never going to be an easy watch—and yes, even with all the supernatural elements, this remains the crux of the story. Never mind the predatory yokai that Shiori and Miko fight off, the real horror element here is the fraught emotional reality of trying to convince someone you love not to kill themselves; or, from the perspective of Hinako herself, the fraught emotional reality of fighting through the fog and finding a reason to listen to what your loved ones are saying.
It’s grim, and, just as recovery is not linear (and this manga continues past the end of Episode 13), it’s not wrapped up nicely by the end of the series. So if you’re looking for a one-and-done tale of healing, you’re probably not going to find it here. Likewise, if you’re looking for a yuri series with a straightforward romance plotline or more direct queer representation, you may not find what you want. The focus is more on stranger, less easy-to-categorize intimacies like immortal devotion and blood-drinking… although I have to admit there is something romantic about Shiori’s ultimate “hey, no one’s allowed to kill you except me” move (and the bite-kiss that comes with it, of course). It’s the kind of deliciously messy relationship dynamic you can only get into within the framework of genre fiction, which is why these queer fantasy-horror series are always so interesting and valuable (I won’t compare this against The Summer Hikaru Died, but I think they exist in the same space—they’re neighbors, at the very least, if not siblings).
I critiqued Hinako’s lack of agency at the start of the series, but by the end I’ve come around to believing that this is a deliberate creative decision rather than a writing fumble. There’s a certain late game twist that really sold me on this, which I won’t spoil here except to say that it brings Hinako’s control over her body, her life, and her death into focus as a key source of conflict. It also lets the show dig deeper into the supernatural characters and ask thorny questions like, “is it selfish or selfless to save someone?” and “how does an immortal monster even get her head around human concepts like love and morality?” Again, juicy stuff. This definitely grew on me as it went along and showed its thematic hand more, so if any of this sounds interesting to you but you were reticent initially, I’d encourage you to give it another shot—with all the content warnings in mind, of course.
-–Alex
Thunderbolt Fantasy – Season 4
Chosen By: Dee (#5)
What’s it about? The Gang Goes to the Demon Realm in this penultimate installment of Urobuchi Gen’s puppet masterpiece, following a perpetually tired swordsman and his vaping trickster frenemy.
Content Warning: Graphic puppet violence, just buckets o’ puppet blood.
Thunderbolt Fantasy fills me with a childlike glee that’s difficult to translate into a review. How do I explain the giddy feeling of seeing a mecha puppet transform into an amp so that a zither-playing puppet can blast her enemies with sound waves? What descriptors could cover the joy of watching Buff Lady Puppet beat up monster puppets or Vape Wizard Puppet trade witty barbs with his puppet rivals?
And that’s not even touching on the wild laughter of shocking! puppet reveals, since I don’t want to spoil the fun for newcomers. Each season seeks to outdo the one before it, escalating the weaving plot threads and character backstories into a climax of nonstop twists and turns. If Season 3 felt like a lot of table-setting, Season 4 serves up a mouth-watering feast and then flips the table for good measure.
It’s so fun, y’all. And it’s fun in a way that doesn’t require a bunch of caveats for a feminist-minded audience. That isn’t to say it’s a progressive manifesto, because that would require it to have a thematic goal beyond “make puppets go whoosh-whoosh,” and I’m not sure it does. But it hates autocrats; features some good ‘ships and compelling (albeit unrealistic) disabled heroes; and the female cast gets stronger with each season, even if they do tend to play second fiddle zither to the dudes. So, it’s still got a leg up on most of the flashy action series out there.
Because Thunderbolt Fantasy is such a uniquely campy experience, it’seither gonna hit for you or it isn’t. But if it does, oh friend, you have such a ride ahead of you. Grab the popcorn, kick up your feet, and join me in eagerly awaiting a US release of the film finale. I have no idea how Booch is gonna wrap up The Great Vape War, but I’m beyond hype to see it play out.
—Dee
TO BE HERO X
Chosen By: Lizzie (#1)
Also Previously Recommended By: Peter
What’s it about? Lin Ling is an average guy who believes anyone can become a hero, but his ideas are constantly shut down by his boss until he’s ultimately fired. He makes the grim decision to commit suicide, but is surprised to see Nice, a famous superhero, kill himself instead. Since Lin Ling looks similar to Nice, his PR team forces him into the role, and he slowly realizes the life of a superhero is darker than it seems.
Content warnings: suicide, sexism (fridging), depictions of murder, physical and mental abuse, sensory overload
It’s difficult to avoid making comparisons with My Hero Academia. On the surface level, both shows have similar themes and have a large cast of characters, but the difference is To Be Hero X does a far better job at writing a more compelling narrative and character arcs without feeling like a mess in the end. Initially, the series starts off exploring its major characters through their own solo arcs, which at some point gets scrapped in favor of seamlessly tying everyone’s backstory together. Everyone gets their chance to shine and by the end of season one, we have a very good understanding of their goals and motivations. This is the kind of show where you really have to pay attention to the small details because it does eventually pay off in later episodes. What’s unique about this series is that every hero (except the incomparable “X” himself) is at the mercy of the trust value system, which means that their superpowers are determined by the public’s faith in them and if they lose their popularity then they lose their abilities.
There are also negative consequences for having superpowers since it can literally affect their bodies. The character Firm Man, for example, was known for having an unbreakable iron will and that nothing can knock him down, which unfortunately, meant that he physically couldn’t bend down at all to either sit in a chair or go to the bathroom. This is just one of the many examples of the detriment of being heroes in this world, but if that wasn’t enough then it’s the other sinister forces that linger within the hero world. The true villains in this story are the hero agencies along with the Hero Affairs Commission (HAC) that control the heroes and organize annual tournaments to determine who will be the new “Hero X”. Basically, the heroes are treated as commodities for public entertainment and are used by their respective agencies for shady activities. These corporate leaders have no qualms getting rid of the few genuinely good heroes that exist in order to advance their own interests.
Despite their limitations, there are amazing heroes like Queen who hate the status quo and are actively trying to find a way to eradicate the trust value system. I’m so happy that characters like Queen and Loli dispel my previous concerns about how the show would treat its women characters. Their storylines not only balances out what happened to Moon in the sense that no one is safe, but it also addresses the gender inequality that exists in the hero world. Queen’s presence inspired more women to become heroes in a predominantly male space while Loli’s story dealt with the fact that women are often judged for their appearance rather than their capabilities. The show also highlights that even if some women make it into positions of power that doesn’t mean they’ll always be in solidarity with each other.
The animation alone deserves a full length essay. Every episode is simply stunning and the series isn’t afraid to experiment with different forms of animation in order enhance the boundaries of visual storytelling. The animators deserve so much praise for making the switch up between 2D and 3D animation throughout the series look so natural and flawless. The visuals get even more intense when the enigma character himself “X” shows up and bends reality with the snap of his fingers. This review is already too long so to sum it up, this show was a love letter to animation and just a damn good story. .
I had a lot of fun with this series and here’s hoping that season two will stick to the landing rather than crash and burn like other action shows. This is an original series with no source material so there’s a chance we’ll get a great finale. I can only close my eyes and pray for that.
— Lizzie
Touring After the Apocalypse
Chosen by: Cy (#5)
What’s it about? All alone in a world after the great collapse of civilization, two girls ride a bike through the empty, often silent, ruins of Japan. But don’t worry: that’s not enough to stop them from sightseeing and finding every way possible to have fun on their journey at the end of the world.
Content considerations: Grieving, global apocalypse
Often, we’re told to imagine the apocalypse as chaos within chaos, and the aftermath as tragic due to the lack of any systems that seem familiar to us. In the wake of the absence of humanity, capitalism falls: nature creeps back in, returning even the most mighty bastions of human advancement to weeds and shattered glass. But what if the apocalypse were bittersweet, filled with nature and interstitial moments where people were once, but are no longer but still quietly fill the corners of once was? What if it was about two girls, one human, one mechanical, existing and chasing dreams?
Touring After the Apocalypse is often about the halcyon days and the nostalgia, but there’s a strong awareness of somber underpinning this series, an understanding that lives are both individual and communal, and nothing makes that stand out quite as much as the lens of a teenager traveling through a reclaimed Japan. And while this is absolutely the kind of coming of age SFF that I absolutely devour, I was also genuinely taken in by the narrative Touring After the Apocalypse seeks to explore, even if this adaptation is somewhat incomplete due to the manga being ongoing.
This gets complicated by Touring not being a “grounded” scientific apocalypse, but a science-fantasy apocalypse that extends even to the stars and to the concept of a soul and what that means. If robots dream of electric sheep, then the inorganic beings in this world have souls, mirroring the visions Youko, our human protagonist, often has when she traces the path her sister once traveled across Japan. Yet instead of feeling silly and like too many genres together, it results in a series that quietly asks viewers to question their own humanity and the way we travel through our currently inhabited world.
Like I said, this isn’t a perfect adaptation of the source, seeing as it’s still ongoing. We’re left with questions that may never get answered. But I think that’s what cinches this series for me: that’s life, and life goes on, and thankfully, we have tomorrows and places we can go—for Youko and her companion Airi, they have a landscape to explore and a deep desire to live. Plus, I think it’s been proven time and time again that stories don’t have to be perfect adaptations to still matter, and in a time where it feels like we’re living through the moments before the capital-f Fall of society, that counts for a lot. It’s hope in half hour chunks, and as I gear up for a rewatch, I plan to savor the visuals of a desiccated landscape while treasuring the vibrantly alive coastal city I call home.
It’s nice to be reminded that joy can be found even where the remains of a fallen society sow the seeds of nature’s rebirth. And honestly, that’s what I think this series has to offer from start to finish: a more realistic, often optimistic look at what could happen in a rather grounded science-fiction fantasy version of our own world.
—Cy
With You and the Rain
Chosen By: Peter (#4)
Also Previously Recommended By: Chiaki
What’s it about? On a rainy walk home, Fuji encounters a dog(?) abandoned on the side of the road. She’s unsure if she can take in a pet, but the dog(?) sweetens the deal by offering her an umbrella too. But is this really a dog? Most dogs don’t communicate with their owners using cue cards. Everyone around them seems to know something’s up, but, hey, are you really going to argue with such a talented little dog?
If you asked if there’s a particularly profound moment that speaks to the brilliance of With You and the Rain, we’d be hard pressed to find that specific moment. Each episode is like sitting in your room looking out the window on a rainy autumn day. There’s no moment that compels you to argue this is the finest piece of media we’ve ever seen, but there’s something soothing and relaxing, just as it is staring out your window and remembering there’s birds, wind, and trees out there.
But as ephemeral that feeling is, With You’s writing is tight by being consistent and keeping focus on the two stars of the show: Fuji and the tanuki.
Doing this allows for an overarching story to play out even as it maintains its slice-of-life vignettes. Fuji and the tanuki meet a neighbor, Fuji hangs out with her friends from high school. The tanuki meets another pet he kinda hates. Fuji does a zoom call. It all works to not only create “relatable” moments slice-of-life shows so-often evoke, but also ultimately builds a portrait of the enigmatic protagonist who decided to take in a tanuki left in the rain. And you know the story succeeded in building that character, because the cour ends where it began as it recontextualizes Fuji’s first meeting with the creature. While it’s not verbatim, the retelling only works because of the holistic experience having watched the show, to understand who Fuji is as a character.
Moreover, so many stories, in want of building emotion for its finale, often invents a climatic conflict, but the climax of the show is just as mundane. Realistically taking place in the penultimate episode as the finale instead recontextualizes the premier, the emotional climax doesn’t take a needless aside to beg questions for melodrama or grossly disrupt the status quo. Instead it ends with reflection and affirmation between Fuji and the tanuki.
When media is becoming increasingly disposable, describing a show as easy to watch often feels dismissive. There’s no stakes and it’s all vibes. Yet With You manages to make that all happen without being totally garbage for people who are sitting there and paying attention. It doesn’t insult your intelligence by acting like you weren’t paying attention for the last 10 minutes. It all made me hone in for the end to leave things off on a positive note.
And like, ok, the tanuki is a real gremlin and he’s amazing. I love him. That’s really important to note too.
Bonus Film Recommendation
Mononoke the Movie Part II: The Ashes of Rage
Recommended By: Lizzie
What’s it about? After the events of the first movie, the Medicine Seller lingers around the imperial Ooku (harem) because he still feels a sinister presence targeting the women, especially the higher-ranking concubines competing to produce an imperial heir and advance the interests of their families. The politicking eventually leads to a concubine’s death, which enables the Medicine Seller to enter the harem again and stop this new threat.
Content Warning: Depictions of murder, suicide, body horror, sexual slavery, physical and mental abuse; eye strain
As I predicted last year, the movie kicks off with throwing us back into the harem; this time, we are following the lives of the high-ranking concubines and their struggles to maintain their positions in power. What’s interesting about this aspect of the movie is that the audience doesn’t get to know the women as individuals like Asa and Kame in the first movie—these high ranking women have already been through the dehumanization process and lost themselves to the power struggles in the harem. It doesn’t matter who they were before they entered the harem; all that’s left is their need to produce an heir in order to ensure their safety. Since the first movie emphasized the importance of finding solidarity through women’s friendship, the second movie shows us the ruthless game these women have to play in order to survive in a patriarchal system.
It’s definitely jarring to just be thrown into the plot, but it seems to have been intentional so that the audience could relate to how chaotic and turbulent the lives of these women were. Despite their attempts to assert themselves, they are still at the mercy of families more powerful than them. These women are primarily seen as property with no agency over their bodies.
The film highlights the fact that behind their masks these are women burning with frustration that they have no control over their lives. That all culminates in the eventual involvement of the fire rats that served as a metaphor for the rage these women felt. As usual, the Medicine Seller is around to reveal the dark truth of the harem and serves as a helpful reminder that these women are human beings worthy of respect. The animation is gorgeous as usual, but can still be overstimulating, so please be cautious when viewing this movie. The Emperor remains a quiet figure in the background and further reminds us how he benefits from all the infighting without lifting a finger. The movie sets up the final cast of characters for the last movie and I for one will be seated to see how this all ends.
— Lizzie
Editor’s Note (1/23/26): This post was edited after publication to add the recommendation for Touring After the Apocalypse
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