Mr Love looks, at this stage, to be a fairly standard sci-fi otome series with all the pacing and compression issues you might expect from a shift in mediums from game to anime. If nothing else, it certainly looks gorgeous, so if you want a night in with some schlocky sci-fi full of Handsome Boys you might be in luck.
The power dynamic between the two leads is so far oddly and satisfyingly balanced (aside from the “girl kicks boy” slapstick), and there is a potentially really interesting undercurrent of character development and social themes amidst the corny comedy.
I feel like the writers have placed Sakurai as the “blank slate” sort of character that the audience is meant to project themselves onto, and they succeeded… with the perhaps unintended consequence that, in empathizing with Sakurai, I could not stand Uzaki.
Through both the character design and characterization of its three protagonists, Eizouken challenges a lot of the tropes that often loom over portrayals of nerdy, passionate teenage girls… and, if we’re being honest, teenage girls in general.
Media presents a certain set of common tropes that informs much of our idea about love and what it “should” look like. Bloom Into You interrogates these tropes, making it a story that provides important queer representation in fiction while also talking about representation in fiction within the story itself.
This musical, magical, swashbuckling school story comes together in an ending that packs a wonderfully metatextual and rebellious punch, serving as a commentary on—and rejection of—the “Bury Your Gays” trope and the historical convention of sad endings for queer characters.
Fantastical fiction is an ideal space for working through complex real-world issues using the frame of allegory, metaphor, and a little bit of magic. Yurikuma Arashi is one such series, a step detached from reality but with something to say about real-world problems, specifically about homophobia and the societal stigmas queer women face.
In Laid-Back Camp, the main characters’ relationship develops over the course of the series becomes a rewarding story about female closeness; Ms. Koizumi, on the other hand, sticks to the status quo established in its premiere, which creates a stale and repetitive story that perpetuates negative tropes about queer women.
As self-aware as Pop Team Epic is, the characterisation of its leading ladies serves as a sort of metatextual raised middle finger to the concept that girls should be cute rather than funny.
Looking at this romantic comedy by name and genre alone, we might expect it be about its geeky protagonist “recovering” from online games and becoming a “normal” adult. Instead, MMO Junkie gives us a story about finding happiness and fulfillment through online games, using their safe zone of community and anonymity as a foothold to regain emotional confidence.
In FLIP FLAPPERS Episode 5, Cocona and Papika are thrown into a world that combines Class S, a genre of sweet yuri romance, with horror. Now, what in the world could that strange combination be trying to tell us?
ToraDora! tells a story about the bizarre tangled intricacies of teenage love. It also tells a story about how everyone has issues, inner turmoil, and inner selves that they keep concealed, usually with the intention of preserving a certain image of themselves for the people around them.
Murder and despair are normally nowhere near the magical girl archetype, but that’s changing in some recent and disturbing developments.
