The Anime Binge-Watcher

"The burden of other people's thoughts" is a phrase I've had spinning around in my brain for a while. It's not an original thought; it's the name of a Don Hertzfeldt movie I haven't watched. Something about time travel, I think. I have no idea what context that movie uses it in. But man, if that doesn't perfectly describe the nightmare Subaru has been experiencing for the past few episodes. A boy crushed by everyone else's expectations of him, or rather, a version of him he refuses to believe could ever exist. How could anyone possibly think Natsuki Subaru is a person worth believing in? How could anyone see him as trustworthy, brave, kind, strong, compassionate, when he's only known himself to be the opposite? He's shackled in place by the Subaru he's forgotten, driven deeper and deeper into despair as he tries and fails to understand how a person like him could be worth all this. Why, out of all the people in the world, have they chosen to put their faith in him?

Of course, sometimes it takes a crisis to bring a struggle like that to its breaking point. And good fucking lord, does this episode constitute a crisis. Whatever's actually causing the tower's collapse, the result is every single challenge our heroes have faced this season roaring back in full force all at once. The freaky centaur monsters have multiplied into a horde! Reid is somehow walking outside his trial room and has vengeance on the mind! Shaula just straight-up transformed into a giant explosive scorpion because of course that suspiciously stinger-shaped tail wasn't just for show! And as if all that wasn't enough, the vile black miasma consuming the tower is revealed to be none other than Satella herself. Because of course she wasn't gonna stay away forever. Of course the Sanctuary wouldn't be the last time she broke through the veil of time to try and swallow Subaru whole. Why not heap the Fucking Witch of Envy upon his shoulders as well? Just in case things were feeling a little too easy!

(Also god dammit Reid stop making me ship Julius and Subaru I swear to god)

The point is, this is the moment of a Re:Zero arc where everything has gone as catastrophically wrong as possible and everyone's fate is sealed. And in the midst of this apocalypse, surrounded by the friends he's forgotten, Subaru is forced to confront how utterly, how unquestioningly, they all care for him. Stripped of all niceties, reduced to their purest instincts with no reason to hide who they truly are, they all choose to believe in him. Julius trusts him to keep Anastasia safe. Beatrice promises to never forget their bond, even if he has. Echidna uses her final breath to apologize for doubting him. These people Subaru's been terrified of, these people he doesn't understand, prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are good. And that might honestly be a crueler fate than if they were actually as evil as he'd feared. Because now each and every one of their gruesome deaths falls on his already-buckling shoulders. They all died putting their faith in Subaru when he's completely forgotten why he should have faith in himself. Each severed leg or exploded torso condemns him in his impotence: how dare you make them believe in someone who doesn't deserve it, Natsuki Subaru? How dare you ask them to put their trust in you when all you can do is watch them die for your sake, over and over and over again?

It's heartbreaking on a level I don't have words for. For all the self-inflicted misery Subaru's gone through over three seasons and counting, this is somehow the cruelest trick he ever played on himself. All he wanted, well before he even set foot in that fateful convenience store, was for people to like him enough to look up to him. And now he's forced to reckon with the cost of being someone worth looking up to. With great power comes great responsibility, and all that. Sure, the power in this case is "being a good and worthy person" moreso than his shadow finger nonsense, but the point stands. Being a person who people respect, being a person people rely on, means being a person who must be capable of helping people when they need help. It means when the chips are down and there's no one else to turn to? It's your job to prove you deserve all the trust they put in you. And right now, Subaru's not in a position to believe he deserves anything. He's not strong, he's not brave, he's not someone who can rise to the occasion when called upon. He's just a sad, lonely shut-in loser who couldn't even return his parents' love before it was too late.

It's fitting, then, that this marks Satella's big return. Her obsessive, possessive love is like permission to give up. Subaru doesn't have to try in her arms, doesn't have to struggle, doesn't have to live up to anyone's expectations. He can just close his eyes and let the inky darkness swallow him whole. Honestly, I wonder if Subaru would even Return by Death if Satella fully consumed him. Is that technically how to break the cycle, I wonder? Satella keeps bringing him back to life because she's pursuing him like a predator across the country until she can finally digest him? It's probably more complicated than that, but that's certainly how it feels in the moment. Like Subaru is truly on the verge of giving in to the sweet embrace of death after so many episodes defying it.

Perhaps, in the end, it would be the kindest way to go.

Except there's someone even kinder waiting right around the corner to bring him back to life.

Emilia. Gods above, Emilia. Even back during the Rem madness of season 1, I never lost faith in this girl. Her compassion, her courage, her guileless belief in the best of people, her growth from an isolated half-elf into the master of her own destiny... Subaru may be the best character in this show, but fuck me if Emilia isn't every bit his match. So the second she sliced him free of Satella's embrace, I just about started screaming in my seat. Because I knew now that she was here? The darkness was finally over. This incredible, relentless girl was going to save Subaru from his despair just as he'd saved her many times before. She was going to break through the darkness and pull him back into the light.

She was going to prove, once again, why Re:Zero is one of the greatest anime ever made.

And believe it or not? I underestimated how right I was.

God. Just... god. Was there any more perfect way to bring this full circle? For Emilia to break through Subaru's agony with the same silly, earnest question he asked her all those episodes ago? Even if he's forgotten everything he's done, she knows just what kind of person Natsuki Subaru is. He's someone with more kindness than he ever dreamed possible. He's someone who's wrestled his inner demons and lived to tell the tale. He's someone who will struggle through hell and come out the other side beaten and bruised if it means saving the people he cares about. And above all else, he's someone who never, never, never stopped fighting to be better. Even now, in his worst possible moment, he screams his heart out to save Julius rather than let him die and stops himself from smashing Echidna's head in. Even with all the excuses in the world, he refuses to become the monster Meili's memory wants him to be. Not because he was perfect, or the strongest, or special in some easily identifiable way. But because Natsuki Subaru, like everyone else, has one superpower even reversing death can't hold a candle to:

He has the power to change for the better.

Yes, perhaps he was once a good-for-nothing scumbag. Perhaps once, he deserved every shred of bile he hurled his way. But you know what? So did the other Natsuki Subaru. That impossible legacy Subaru feels he can never live up to was once, just like him, a screw-up making all the wrong choices and giving in to his worst impulses. And look how far he's come. Look at how that scared, cringeworthy boy became someone all these people believe in. Look at how much a person can change when they believe it's possible. Everyone's memories of the other Natsuki Subaru may be a burden for him, but in Emilia's gentle kindness, he's finally able to see the other side of them: proof of who he can be. No, it's more than that: they're proof of who he's already become. In every memory she shares with him, the expectations that once crushed him become a promise that even someone as broken and worthless as him can become everything he always wanted to be... if only he has the courage to try.

No person on this earth is fully self-made. We are all a creation of other people's thoughts as much as our own. Sometimes that can be destructive, restrictive, a weight dragging us down into the ocean. But other times, it can help us see ourselves in all the ways we're unable to. It can help us see just how much we're capable of when we don't let our own self-image get in the way. If memories truly make us who we are, then it's not just our own memories, but the memories of everyone we love, that help us see the complete picture of ourselves. There is not one Natsuki Subaru before his amnesia and one Natsuki Subaru after. There is not the hero he could never become and the loser he will always be. There is, in the end, just one boy with just one name, capable of greatness and ugliness, capable of rising to the occasion or giving up entirely. The only question remaining is simple: which version of yourself to you truly want to be?

And when faced with a love this pure, there's only one choice he could possibly make.

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, I absolutely fucking lost it. I was already crying during Emilia's speech, but the moment Subaru finally says this? Choosing to believe in himself again? To believe in the love Emilia has for him? With fucking Styx Helix and Stay Alive in the background as nostalgic callbacks to celebrate his rebirth? Christ, even going back to find screenshots for this post got me bawling again. Even in a show that's already given us too many masterpiece moments to count, this stands just shy of From Zero and Parent and Child as one of the greatest episodes in all of Re:Zero. This is catharsis for the boy Subaru once was and the man he's become all at once, making peace with his past and choosing to have faith in his future. It's proof that no matter where you start, no matter how impossible the path forward seems, you're never truly out of second chances. Let the darkness come and despair threaten to swallow him whole: Natsuki Subaru always could, always can, and always will choose to try again. Because even an utterly ordinary, unremarkable person like him is capable of becoming someone extraordinary.

And now, once again, it's his turn to remember. Remember all the courage, all the kindness, all the hope his friends gave him with their dying breaths. Remember their absolute faith in the person he's finally ready to try and become again. Remember everything they're capable of so when it's his turn to save them from despair, he can share the same love with them they shared with him. Now, it's time for him to share the burden of his thoughts with them, to believe in them as they've believed in him, until they finally leave this nightmare behind. It won't be easy, and there's no telling what horrors still await in the tower's darkness. But if Natsuki Subaru can be even half the man his friends see in him? Then we might just see the sun rise yet.

All it takes is the courage to start over... from zero.

Unfortunately, that first step will have to wait a bit. Much like season 3, there's a long-ass break in the middle of this season, so it's gonna take a couple months to see how Subaru plans to set this situation right (speaking of nightmares, god, I don't even want to know what the situation behind the scenes was like). But if that's the price we pay for peak, I'm more than happy to wait for it. Re:Zero has more than proven it deserves that patience. Season 4 has been spectacular from start to finish, and if the final eight episodes are as good as the eleven we've already gotten? Then it's unquestionably gonna end up the best anime of a truly exceptional anime year. So long for now, Natsuki Subaru. I can't wait to see you rise from the ashes one more time.

Of course, that's a little hyperbole. There's no one True Path to take as an anime fan, and you certainly don't need to watch Shirobako to gain a better understanding of how anime gets made. Hell, I'm coming up on a full decade as an anime fan and I'm only just getting around to it now. But man, I can think of few better ways to sell someone on the magic of medium's creative process than watching this. Shirobako is the anime about anime, the standard against which all other shows will be judged. It's the industry's ultimate representation of itself, created by people who've spend their lives within its bowels and want to share the highs and lows of that struggle with the fans they make their art for. It's a sprawling, beautiful love letter to anime, the people who make anime, the challenges of making anime and the reason we keep trying despite it all. Even as much as I've learned about anime through the years, I still came away from it feeling more connected to the medium than ever before.

Our focus is Musani Studio, a once-legendary anime studio that's well past its glory days and struggling to keep the lights on. After years of grunt work for other studios, they're finally producing another show of their own, and they're determined to make it the best goddamn show they can. And that's basically the entire show! Shirobako is all about following the process of anime creation, all the different people and departments necessary to bring a show to life and all the different ways things can go catastrophically wrong. While there is a main character in newly hired PA Aoi Miyamori, and her former high school friends all chasing the anime dream in their own ways, the overall feel is much more of an ensemble piece. No one character's perspective or struggle is more important than the group dynamic; everyone influences everyone else, everyone plays some small part in each other's lives, and everyone is working their absolute hardest to make this show a success, no matter how many curveballs life throws in the way.

That sense of community, more than anything, is the secret to Shirobako's success. You get such a rich, detailed sense of how all these characters' lives intersect; by the show's end, Musani feels like a living, breathing organism where no one is truly replacable. From PA Tarou's grating bravado to character designer Osagawara's steadfast calm, from episode director Madoka's grumpy dependability to director Kinoshita's eccentric volatility, from key animators to tweeners to the CG department, Shirobako makes you feel connected to every single corner of this vast operation. Interestingly, this structure means there aren't many character arcs to speak of; everyone is pretty much the same at the end of the show as they were in the start, their interactions with each other more meaningful than their own personal growth. But hey, that's kind of how people are too, you know? Most of us don't undergo huge life-altering change in the process of doing our jobs; we just do the best we can as part of this vast collective effort and try to bring out the best in each other along the way.

And that's clearly intentional with the way the cast is laid out. Most of Musani's crew are grown adults who already know what they want out of life and how to get there; they're, if not veterans, at least secure in their roles with a game plan in mind for how to get there. That leaves Aoi and her friends, the young newbies fresh out of college, to struggle with what it means to pursue your dreams and how to grow into someone who can actually chase that potential, all the while learning from their more experienced colleagues along the way. Whenever trouble arises- and boy howdy, does it arise- salvation often comes in the form of an older animator, someone who's been in this industry for decades, swooping in to point our heroes in the right direction. References about to countless real-world studios and franchises that inspired our heroes to join the business in the first place; at one point, Aoi ends up getting advice from a blatant Hideaki Anno stand-in. It frames anime as a generational craft, older legends passing the baton to the new crop of fresh young upstarts to learn all the same lessons they did, and maybe do it even better this time.

And honestly? That egalitarian love for the entirety of anime is my favorite thing about Shirobako. It would've been so easy to make a show about how modern stuff is slop and doesn't respect the classics, or a show that pays no respect to the legacy of this incredible art form. But Shirobako's ultimate thesis is that all of anime, its past, present, and future, is in conversation with itself. We learn from the past and carry its lessons into the future, finding new stories to tell and new ways of doing things, building on the foundations of what came before to reach even greater heights. Even the character designs reinforce this idea! Most of the veteran animators have more realistic faces and body types, while the younger generation, represented by Aoi and her friends, have a much more moe bent to their features. It's like the older anime style itself is shepherding in the artistic possibility of today, one unbroken line of inspiration from people across history who all share the same dream: to bring something beautiful into the world. There's an episode directly dealing with that in the show's back half, where Aoi visits the old, shuttered studio that Musani sprang from, and it's one of the most touching things I've ever watched. God, I've never so connected to this medium's legacy.

That's not to say the show ignores what a grueling job this can be either. While it's definitely not a 100% accurate portrayal of the problems an anime studio can face, it doesn't shy away from the chaos and constantly teetering sense of doom. You get a sense of how even a small delay can snowball into catastrophe, pushing other departments' work past the deadline and leaving everyone scrambling for an extra pair of hands to cover the damage. And with margins for errors already tight to begin with, you really come to appreciate how any shows make it over the finish line in one piece. It's all portrayed with a very goofball, slapstick energy, but that doesn't make the tension any less nail-biting as Aoi rushes to find a spare keyframer to save an episode from collapse two months before airing. On the other hand, that makes the moments of triumph where we get to see the finished work play out hit all the harder. Anime is a miracle of a thousand hands, and Shirobako makes damn sure you feel the weight of each and every person who helping bring it to life.

One downside to this approach, sadly, is in the few character arcs it does have. With such a heavy focus on ensemble dynamics, most of Aoi's friends are only allowed brief moments to undergo growth and change, and they end up the weakest characters by a wide margin. I couldn't even remember Misa and Midori's names by the end of the show; I had to look them to write that sentence. Poor Zuka-chan just exists to be the universe's punching bag for 22 episodes before finally making the smallest bit of forward momentum. Ema's struggles with confidence are at least fleshed out reasonably well, and Aoi herself gets enough focus for her big speech in the final episode to get the tears flowing. But considering how wonderfully rich and developed so many of the side characters feel with so much less to actually do, it's disappointing that the most important cast members end up falling short. Their friendship and shared dreams are set up as Shirobako's heart and soul from the very first scene, but they end up getting lost in the shuffle with everything else going on. Does that make them bad characters? Not really; it just means they could've been so much better.

The good news is, Shirobako is strong enough to survive even with a weaker core cast than preferable. Because what it does well- exploring the process of making anime and what it means to the people involved- it does so, so well. I've never seen another anime that so effortlessly gets the appeal of this art form, and it communicates that appeal while examining all the countless factors necessary to bring that appeal to life in the first place. It's a celebration of art as community, of the legacies we continue to build together, respectful of the past and hopeful for the future. It's a show about what it means to love anime from the inside, and even ten years into my relationship with this medium, it leaves me even more excited to see what else it has in store. For that, I give Shirobako a score of:

7.5/10

However Agents of the Four Seasons' final arc shakes out is almost entirely dependent on Misuzu. She's the black hole at the center of this madness dragging everything else into her depths, and how it ultimately resolves her story is going to determine whether or not this series ends in disaster. The stakes are that fucking high, and the risks are that fucking existential. I almost don't even want to think about her and stay safe in my lovely pink Sakura x Hinagiku bubble forever. But that's just not possible anymore with how central she's become to the proceedings. As a story, Agents is going to make or break on this horrifically problematic character's back, and hiding from that is just going to make the potential catastrophe even worse. So... yeah.

To start with the most generous interpretation: Misuzu and the insurgents as a whole are a manifestation of this world's attitudes toward the Agents themselves- namely, that they're treated as gods, not as people. Basically all the horrible things people do to Hinagiku and her friends in this show stem from the fact that from the moment a season manifests in a person, they're no longer seen as human. The villages restrict them and isolate them to control their powers regardless of the emotional toll it takes on them. The insurgents seek to kill them as avatars of the world they hate or exploit their powers for their own ends. They're either valued or despised for what they are and what they can do- and in the process, everyone forgets about the person beneath that title. They forget that Hinagiku is not an all-powerful divine avatar, disconnected from the world at large; she's just a girl with a kind heart trying to do the right thing, even after everything she'd suffered.

And that ties back to my big hope from a few episodes back: that Agents, ultimately, will be a show about changing the world by letting the gods walk among it. The insurgents and villages are two faces of the same evil, holding Hinagiku, Rosei, and all the rest above humanity for the sake of abusing them. But as we saw in the first couple episodes, the agents don't want to stand above humanity. The little girl Hinagiku helps in episode 1, the civilians Rosei saves in episode 2... these are not gods who consider themselves above the common folk. These are people driven to help others because despite their incredible power, they are one of us too. I suspect- or at least, I hope- that the end result of the four agents standing together at last will be a complete shake-up of how this world operates, rejecting both the villages' view of them as tools as the insurgents' view of them as curses. No longer isolated from the people they're supposed to serve, they will become part of society at large, working directly with the rest of humanity and enriching their lives in the process. Those are the pieces I see Kana Akatsuki putting into play, and if she nails that fucking dismount? Then I'll have no problem calling Agents one of the year's best.

But then, there's Misuzu. Where does she, specifically, fit into this thematic tapestry I assume is being built? Well, to be blunt: she's the Revolutionary Who's Just as Bad as the System. Yes, that wonderful trope we all adore so much. And now you understand why I'm so desperate for my theory to be right: if this world doesn't change in the end? If the only force in this story actively fighting to fix this world's problems is a murderous Crazy Bitch who went insane after losing her baby? Holy fuck, what a wretched conclusion that would be. That would be Wonder Egg Priority levels of betraying everything you once stood for as a story. And the fact I can't confidently say it won't fuck it up, even as much as I've adored Agents up to this point, is... well, it's worrying. I know Akatsuki can write wonders; Violet Evergarden is still one of the greatest anime of all time, and I can't imagine that was all thanks to KyoAni. But Agents is a much, much messier series, and the further it's gotten into its plot, the less certain I've become I can trust where it's headed.

Perhaps part of the problem is that for a story that seems to be about confronting the world, we haven't really... seen much of that world, have we? The only glimpses we've got of what normal life looks like in Yamato come in those first couple episodes; after that, the story's entirely focused on the agents' internal drama. Episodes 3 and 4 were all about the Summer sisters, 5 and 6 were Sakura and Hinagiku's backstory, 7 was about Autumn, 8 was yet more backstory, 9 was about getting all the agents united, and ever since then we've been locked into this final insurgency arc. Those background civilians on the bridge fight this episode were the first time we've seen normal people in, like, ten straight episodes. That's not great! That makes it feel like the world doesn't really matter! Which is a problem when making the world matter is the deciding factor between success and failure!

Again to use Violet as a contrast, while we never learn the exact politics or culture of its alt-universe Europe, each of Violet's clients gives us a chance to see one small snapshot of ordinary life, how different kinds of people live in this world outside the miasma of her own trauma and the ongoing war politics. It's not really a story about the world at large, but it still, like, cares about the world, you know? Meanwhile, Agents is much more actively trying to put its world front and center, but it spends far less time actually developing it. After those first two episodes, we don't explore any of the locations Hinagiku visits on her travels, nor do we meet any people outside the agency's orbit. For almost its entire run, this show's world has been confined within the borders of the Four Seasons. So having its ultimate conclusion rely on our investment in the world outside those borders feels unearned. I want to care about the Agents of the Four Seasons universe, but I haven't been given many reasons to. And now it feels like unless this show can make me care about that world in the next two episodes while still wrapping up all its character arcs, it's going to end in disaster.

That's not to say there's nothing going on with Misuzu. What this episode makes clear is she's essentially taken on a mindset of "If you can't beat them, join them." This world's put her through hell, but rather than try to make it better so no one has to suffer like she did, she uses her pain as an excuse to hurt other people however she wants because that's "fair" in her mind. I was treated like shit, so it's my right to treat others like shit, equivalent exchange and all that. Not the most complex motivation, but it at least tracks with all those thematic threads I brought up earlier. Misuzu suffered unimaginable horrors, and she decided it was justice for her to enact the same cruelty upon Hinagiku. And perhaps there's a world somewhere out there where Hinagiku continued that cycle of cruelty. But thanks to Sakura saving her from despair, she gained the courage to reach out to the world again, to continue trying to help others despite it all. Misuzu is the narrative foil Hinagiku serves to reject, showing that we want to change the world, we cannot allow ourselves to become as cruel as it. Whatever revolutionary instinct Misuzu might have once had, it's curdled into raw, selfish cruelty, making her just as unforgivable as the seasons agency she stands against. But Hinagiku is proof that choosing life, choosing hope, choosing love in spite of everything, can still carve a better path forward.

At least, again, that's what I want to believe is happening. The pieces are all in place, but the show's myopic focus on its main cast over the world has me uncertain if that's where it's actually going- and if it is, how effectively it can land that message. And all of that's still wrapped up in the ugly, gendered baggage of Misuzu going baby-crazy and doing all these awful things because she wants a replacement child, not to mention setting Hinagiku up to be raped and forcibly impregnated what the FUCK. I don't even know how to feel about that! I just need to scream and lose my fucking mind because Jesus Goddamn Christ! I'm writing all this like two hours after watching the episode and my chest still feels like it's going to explode from stress at any moment! Do you understand!!! Why I want to believe!!!! This ending is going to make this all worth it!!!!!!!

God, I need to stop writing now.