MagnusHex

"Gag series” (a sub-genre of the coined genre “widget series” on TV Tropes) are not new to anime or even American animation. In fact, there’s even a whole page listing anime that are light on plot (usually a nonlinear plot) and heavy on comedy without regards for a traditional narrative structure containing a beginning and an end. For a Gainax comedy (the studio infamous for their nonsensical endings unrelated to the larger plot such as those in Neon Genesis Evangelion and FLCL), a savvy viewer should have already been prepared for such unorthodox storytelling. However, while there are dozens of comedy anime like the slapstick Nichijou and the dramedy Gintama out there that revel in absurdist humor (a form of humor more traditionally rooted in Japanese culture), Panty & Stocking takes pride in its own ridiculous universe and its ludicrous logic instead of having the kind of self-aware, fourth-wall breaking, “winking at the camera” kind of guilt comedies like Gintama would express towards its own silliness. This is especially evident by the final episode when the voice of reason “geek boy”, Brief ”Briefers” Rock, asks how the two titular characters could be so flippant about everything, to which the angelic duo answers, “We’re always serious,” “Dead serious when it comes to screwing around.” In spite of its ostentatious crudity, especially when it comes to the more promiscuous “Panty” of the protagonist duo, the show implies that it’s a representation of the freedom to do whatever it wants, not bounded by boring ol’ rules. This is pretty clear when you realized that the main antagonists of the show, two devil sister counterparts to the titular angel siblings, “Scanty” and “Kneesocks”, have a serious passion for enforcing the rules. Created by the same staff team that brought you the over-the-top Gurren Lagann, the 2010 anime Panty & Stocking was conceived over the staff’s vacation trip, with Hiromi Wakabayashi (who came up with the initial idea) comparing it to the likes of Comedy Central’s Drawn Together, a 2004 American cartoon that also crudely parodied several styles of American traditional animation like Betty Boop and Disney princesses. The main premise the anime is loosely built on involves two “fallen angels” who have to work their way back to heaven by killing vengeful “ghosts” in exchange for Heaven Coins. Once they’ve earned enough coins, their return is assured. Thus, we get a monster-of-the-week cartoon bearing much similarities to The Powerpuff Girls, including the design of the main characters and the opening narration of every episode describing the setting of the show, “Daten City”. However, unlike PPG (or even many gag anime for that matter), P&S tells you right from the start that it’s not meant for children’s consumption (with or without parental guidance), as its first episode, Excretion Without Honor and Humanity, involves the angels fighting… a poop monster. Born out of everyone’s feces. Yeah, it’s that kind of show. The aptly named “Giant Brown” is also the first of the “Excrement Trinity” where disgusting human waste matter are involved, alongside snot monster “Ugly Snot” in Raiders of the Nasal Dark and vomit monster “Boogey Pukey” in Vomiting Point. Befitting such vulgar content are the two angel protagonists of the anime hardly behave in any angelic manner at all, with the blonde Panty being more interested in sleeping with men all day long and the blue-haired Stocking more interested in stuffing her face with confectionaries. From episode 6 onwards, the anime would start to move away from its monster-of-the-week format to focus more on the rivalry between the two angels and the aforementioned devil sisters. This is where, I feel, the anime starts to fall into a more formulaic pattern that undercuts its initial novelty. In my opinion, P&S is best when they don’t have any traditional plot going on in an episode at all. This is best shown through their visual variety. While most episodes bear a similar minimalist animation style in the vein of PPG, the series can have a wide range of settings and storylines, though still largely rooted in the comedy genre. For example, one episode like Death Race 2010 is an entire chase sequence stretched out to an episode, but another like Pulp Addiction is bookended by a black-and-white sequence featuring the Normandy landings from Saving Private Ryan… except the soldiers are all personifications of sperms trying to eject. Needless to say, entire location sets the audience might be familiar with could be switched every episode, with Vomiting Point taking place in the more grounded “Little Tokyo”, mirroring Daten City the way “Citiesville” mirrored Townsville in PPG’s Town and Out. In fact, instead of its usual PPG style, that particular episode features an entirely different animation style that resembles Satoshi Kon’s artstyle (the guy that brought you Paprika and Perfect Blue). P&S is simply at its most interesting that way, showing a different style of cartoon storytelling every episode when you’re expecting something familiar. To exemplify why such nonadherence to a traditional plot works effectively, one simply has to look at the popular Gintama. But while I’ve mentioned Gintama a number of times in this review so far, P&S’ resemblances are more similar to a more obscure title known as Excel Saga, of which its full title is Quack Experimental Anime Excel Saga, a name that speaks for itself just how nontraditional its structure is. Much like P&S, it also has a blonde airhead girl and a more subdued blue-haired girl as its main protagonists, including a pet dog mascot like Chuck in P&S as well. More strikingly similar, however, is its unique shift of genre every, single, episode, ranging from sci-fi alien invasion to romantic comedy and even American animation like Wonder Woman and Disney cartoons. P&S kinda treads this genre-bending territory as well, but more so towards its later-half like the aforementioned Vomiting Point, Trans-homers (a Transformers parody down to Optimus and Megatron changing to Rodimus and Galvatron respectively), …Of the Dead (a zombie episode), 1 Angry Ghost (a courtroom drama episode) and even Ghost: The Phantom of Daten City, which contained far more emotional elements by the end than one would initially expect (Stocking dating a self-centered ghost with a phallic head and extreme body odor). In fact, it’s because of its unique structure (which I loved about Excel Saga) that made me a bit surprised about P&S’ mixed reviews from critics, most notably Anime News Network which calls it “unremittingly revolting,” “generally not funny,” and having style over substance. Honestly speaking, I don’t usually enjoy style over substance either, with myself not being a huge fan of Kill la Kill, but I feel like there’s just something refreshing beyond P&S’ obvious shock humor. Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely not a deep show by any stretch of the imagination, but I always have a fondness for “meta shows” that play around with the genre in creative ways, pushing the boundaries of what you could shove into a series without traditional structures. With episodes like Chuck to the Future (a mostly dialogueless three-parter with Chuck the dog as the main star), Help! We Are Angels (a literal music video referencing various American musicians) and Nothing to Room (a single-shot episode with Panty and Stocking sitting on a couch waiting for dinner), there’s just enough range in flavor to satisfy someone like me who actively seeks out original and novel ways to tell a story. That anarchic spirit of both the anime and its titular characters hearken back to the kind of post-modernist shows I grew up with in the ’90s (and even shows I didn’t grow up with like The Simpsons and South Park), daring to poke fun in shameless ways just to see what works and what doesn’t. And for P&S, most of the time, it works surprisingly well right until the end, often intriguing me with some new surprise each episode. If there is ever a gripe, as there always are since nothing is perfect, it’s not even really a gripe at all but more of a disappointment: the series is only 13 episodes long with no sequel. Practically speaking, this is sensible because you can only do so much to parody different genres before it becomes stale (Excel Saga somewhat suffers from this with its 26 episodes, and The Simpsons shows that too much of a good thing can sour the taste). But as someone who had such a great time watching this… my god, I just can’t help but crave for more. Unlike the many serious anime I’ve reviewed, P&S has a carefree nature that makes me appreciate American animations like PPG and the many Nickelodeon and even Disney Channel cartoons, that frivolous spirit to just give the audience a good time for the fun of it without imparting any serious morals or didacticism. It feels like a welcoming break not having to point out what political or social commentary the episodes might have contained in this review, or what real life issues they might have addressed, and just to have a jolly fun time with its colorful narrative styles and TerryLoid’s electronica tracks that grant every episode full of life and energy. Final Rating: 9.3/10

Just saw this episode and man, in spite of knowing what's coming the moment I saw that plaque (no thanks to the dozens of spoilers praising this episode... like my post here), I still ended up tearing up a little by the end. It's no wonder this end up as one of people's favorites.

Daily Show, The

Aside from effectively showing (and singing) what Panty & Stocking is about, this music video also contains at least a dozen music references, from Elvis to Pink Floyd to The Beatles and even t.A.T.u.

Boston Public

"Your tears say more than real evidence ever could." This was 1994. Oh god. Classic Simpsons predicting the future one episode at a time.

Zoids

My mum forced me to play her some ABBA, her favorite band growing up. She requested Money, Money, Money, which she said was her favorite. Then I played her some of my favorites from the band (no thanks to her influence during my childhood), and we ended up with a small ABBAthon including Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) and Does Your Mother Know, both of which I like because of their faster beats.

Appropriately enough, I got to watch Treehouse of Horror V in Simpsons season 6, a Halloween tradition in the series I wouldn't have been able to watch if I'm stuck watching the sixth season of The X-Files or Buffy right now in my rotation. 😁 And boy, this is definitely the best Treehouse of Horror I've seen so far. It has a fun Shining parody where Homer goes crazy from a lack of beer and TV, but my favorite segment is easily Nightmare Cafeteria where the school staff starts cannibalizing on delinquent students, then just any student in particular. It was easily the darkest segment of any Simpsons episode so far in 1994, not to mention the incredibly disturbing ending where Bart and Lisa are implied to have fallen into a food blender... the fact that their bloody demise was left to the audience's imagination probably made it worse. It also has this equally upsetting end credits sequence that probably haunted a lots of kids' nightmares: Apparently, this episode's dark nature (or at least darker nature) came about because of the aforementioned executive meddling from Fox, trying to tone down the violence. I miss when the show was this rebellious and anti-establishment.

A portal transports Lt. Artemis and an elite unit of soldiers to a strange world where powerful monsters rule with deadly ferocity. Faced with relentless danger, the team encounters a mysterious hunter who may be their only hope to find a way home. Director and Writer: Paul W. S. Anderson Starring: Milla Jovovich, Tony Jaa, Tip "T. I." Harris and Ron Perlman Love or hate Paul W.S. Anderson, you can't deny he's just a big kid who wants to put cool monsters in movies. In our time of sophisticated storylines, that might be eye-rolling, but there was a time when movies were the likes of The Bride of Frankenstein and Friday the 13th sequels. Not all movies need to be sophisticated (see Pacific Rim).

Just watched S6's "Sideshow Bob Roberts" just now where its mockery of the American voters seems particularly relevant today: "This time, he's the lesser of two evils." - Lisa Simpson Just replace Quimby with Hilary.

I started watching season 6 a few days ago and I've just seen S6E04: Itchy & Scratchy Land. The IMDB review was right: "The Simpsons don't get much better than this." Not only that there's so many quotable lines here, I love the whole mockery of Disneyland and its dark parodies of Disney cartoons like Scratchtasia. The AV Club is particularly helping when watching these episodes because their episode analysis gives a lot of background information, such as how this episode was the Dave Mirkin's response to Fox's demands that Itchy and Scratchy is too violent to show on The Simpsons anymore. Like the rebel that The Simpsons was known for in its early seasons. Dave responded by making this episode's Itchy and Scratchy segment even more violent than usual, including a whole Itchy and Scratchy Land that's described as "The Violentest Place on Earth". Never try to censor The Simpsons, kids.

When I first heard about the popular 2016 anime, Erased, my initial thought was, "Another time travel anime about fixing your past? Come on." It didn't impress me and I wasn't sure what all the hype was about. Madoka Magica did it, Mamoru Hosoda did it with The Girl Who Leapt Through Time; all of them taught you that traveling back in time to change your past is a very bad idea. There just doesn't seem like anything new you could say that hasn't already been said. By the time I've finished the series, however... I was left in tears. Erased is probably one of the most sincere love letters to the often mocked values of friendship and optimism in children's anime. The series is a message of hope even when there is none, and it even reconstructs the idea of friendship in anime by saying that friendship is not given freely, and you need to dig deep and take that first step first if you're feeling lonely and disconnected from the world. Such a message couldn't be more relevant for our protagonist, 29-year-old Satoru Fujinuma, a comic book artist who's struggling to create a compelling story. His editor tells him to "dig deep" to find that voice, but at the start of the series, he doesn't know what that means. He's someone whom I relate to on some level because it's revealed that he only puts up a polite and civilized front as a way to make friends as he doesn't know how else to socialize with people. In a society like Japan with an increasing number of hikikomori (or social recluse), this is probably a very relevant theme for them as well. Satoru also possesses an ability called "Revival," where he's able to experience events ahead of time (usually from 30 seconds to a minute) whenever something bad is gonna happen. However, even when he does use this ability in the beginning, it doesn't feel like he does it because he genuinely cares about others - it feels more like he does it because the power is a part of him, so he might as well help others with it. There's this detachment Satoru has from "normal people" where he doesn't understand their humor and doesn't try to communicate further than ordinary greetings and conversations. In that sense, you could almost say that it doesn't even matter if he's erased from his town. Nobody will miss him that much aside from his own mother. But everything changes when a tragic event involving his mother, Sachiko Fujinuma, leads to his Revival powers magically transporting him back to 1988 in his 10-year-old body. In order to prevent Sachiko from meeting the same fate, he tries to find the links to the incident that led his Revival to return him 18 years into the past. This leads him to encounter his classmate Kayo Hinazuki, a victim related to the tragic event in the future. She accurately discerns that Satoru is merely acting amiable towards others just to get along with people, and through his interactions with Kayo and his other classmates (whose help he seeks to protect Kayo), he gradually learn what it means to connect with people and the precious friendship one could gain from such effort. Usually, I'm not one to care about anime dealing with themes of friendship and family, not because I think they're childish, but because because I don't have many friends and I'm not that close to my own family. Friendship is practically an alien concept to me and I'm in the shoes of Satoru as well, putting up a front just to get through life. But there's just something so sincere about Erased and its childlike way of dealing with an adult issue of disconnection, the way it brings you back to your childhood when you were playing heroes with your neighborhood pals, and the way it shows how such small efforts could result in greater relationships in adulthood that inspires one to try putting in effort the way Satoru does. Furthermore, the anime isn't simply about good guys fighting bad guys like many adventure anime such as One Piece, but instead, it's a mystery thriller that deals with the very realistic theme of child abuse and how hard it is for child protection services to find out the truth about these abuse. In a report back in May, the National Police Agency of Japan says that a total number of 1,991 minors in Japan aged under 18 were victims of child abuse in 2019. Of the 1,991 child abuse victims, 1,654 were subjected to physical abuse, followed by 248 who were sexually abused, 53 who were verbally and psychologically abused and 36 who were neglected. Naturally, in the year that the anime is set in, 1988, such abuse was very much prevalent in Japan with unclear regulations as to what constitutes "abuse" (particularly unclear was the definition of physical abuse). In a survey during 1984, over 70% of parents supported the use of physical punishment on their children. Even the revised Civil Code of '97 approved the use of such punishment as a form of discipline 'in so far as it is necessary,' so it can be very challenging for the authorities to determine what is abuse and what isn't. Knowing what I know about child abuse, the anime feels very realistic in its portrayal of such crimes: the Child Protection Service would be unable to protect Kayo in spite of repeated reports of abuse; her mother, Akemi Hinazuki, would hide away bruises and coerce her daughter to lie about the abuse; and Kayo's behavior of reclusiveness, anxiety and self-loathing feel very much like the traits of such abuse victims. Oftentimes, it can prove difficult to watch the anime because of how authentic its portrayal can be. It all goes back to the anime's theme of disconnection between people, how it can be difficult to reach out and help someone facing such hidden abuse or even to reach out and seek help when you're under the coercion of your own parent, the person whom you trust and look to as a guiding beacon. Growing up with such physical and emotional scars of my own, I just can't imagine how someone could bring himself to hurt an innocent child. It's explained why Akemi acts like this in the anime - she was a victim of abuse herself - but I found it hard to sympathize with her in spite of understanding this perpetual cycle in abusive families. While spending time finding clues to what he's supposed to do, Satoru comes across an essay written by Kayo that the anime title is based on: The Town Without Me: When I get bigger, big enough to go somewhere by myself, I want to to a land that's faraway, I want to go a faraway island, I want to go to an island that has no people, I want to go to an island that has no pain or sadness, There are no adults, children, classmates, teachers or my mom on that island, On that island I can climb a tree when I want to climb, Swim in the sea when I want to swim, And sleep when I want to sleep, On the island I think about the town that I left behind, Kids go to school as if nothing has changed, Adults go to the office as if nothing has changed, Mom eats as if nothing has changed, When I think about the town without me, I feel sense of relief, I want to go far far away. The town without Kayo, where she becomes just another statistic that's forgotten in 18 years, another unsolved case in some record book. It's a depressing yet realistic view of cases like hers. Determined to change her fate and that of his mother's, Satoru begins to dig deep and welcome Kayo into his life. For the first time ever, he makes a great effort to do whatever he can to reach out to someone to prevent tragedy from repeating. It's an emotionally riveting tale that makes you root for him, even as he fails, stumbles and has to do it all over again with his 'Revival.' Interestingly, the essay and the title's meaning would take on an opposite tone by the end of the anime, a more optimistic tone that reflects on how Satoru's earnest efforts have left behind impact on the people around him. Even when he's far away from people, his actions have made him memorable in the hearts of many. In a town without him, his friends and family patiently waited for him. Something has changed, but only because of his conscious effort. But that's the extent of spoiler I'm going to go into. Remarkably, a lot of people hated this ending with a passion, most notably those who have read the original manga and loathed the changes the anime has made to the conclusion. There are two major changes that led to this outrage; one involves a more subtle change related to romantic commitments that I personally find nonsensical to complain about, while the other is a change that's more understandably hated because it lessens the depth of the antagonist and reduces him to a generic psychopath that does things "For the Evulz." I'll address the second change first. Apparently, the final episode of the anime crams several chapters of the manga into a single episode, resulting in not only 1) the villain's motivation not explained, but also 2) a contrived plan put together by Satoru and his friends. I could understand why people were upset with this, but I'll explain more on why I'm not that bothered by the this change later on. Satoru's plan does seem annoyingly contrived and convenient, yes, but when you consider the larger theme of friendship and belief that the anime seems to be subverting, it just makes sense why this ending plays out like a typical children's anime where the hero conveniently saves the day. The other major change is the more subtle one. There's a very tiny detail where between the events of episode 10 and 11, the manga explains why Kayo gradually grows separated from Satoru and marries someone else instead of waiting for him. The anime left the detail out. Yeah. That's the complaint, that the anime fails to explain why a 10-year-old girl wouldn't wait for her savior and chooses to move on with life. Such an action is normally something one wouldn't need to ask about if he uses common sense, but apparently, this change is too drastic for many manga fans as everything needs to be explained. And the thing that's so peculiar is that the anime didn't even really seem like a romance drama to me. It's supposed to be about a guy learning to open up to people around him through his childhood friends. It's an endearing exploration of the relationships you could build if you make an effort to dig deep and find that courage to reach out to people. I don't get why whether if Kayo moving on is explained or not should matter in such a story. Why does everything have to be about romance? It's not a romantic story! It's not about whom marries whom or which characters you ship! And while I could understand that the exclusion of the villain's backstory is indeed problematic, the thing is, I wasn't that bothered by it because 1) I didn't read the manga so the difference wasn't noticeable for me, and 2) the villain doesn't really matter because this is a story about Satoru. The story still works fine even with a stock villain because it still manages to touch on its more heartfelt themes of connecting with people; the villain is secondary. And if not having experienced the source material still results in you enjoying a show (such as watching Watchmen without reading the comic book), is the adaptation really that bad? It must be made quality enough to still generate such emotions from the audience, and in the case of Erased, I was literally moved to tears by the time the anime ends in the final scene. As the end credits roll in the final moments of the last episode, we see Satoru, now a successful comic book writer who has found his voice, narrates an essay he has written in his younger 10-year-old voice. The essay, titled "My Hero", is written in a way that mirrors Kayo's essay, and it describes how he lacks the courage to dig deep and take the first step in gaining allies. The choice of word for "allies" used in the Japanese dub of the anime is a special one: nakama. It particularly carries a lot of weight in children's anime like One Piece and Fairy Tail, and while it can be used to say "friend," it's mostly a boyish term for "comrade" or "ally," a relationship that's closer than just a "friend." Satoru says that while he has "friends" (he uses tomodachi to denote 'friends' here), he doesn't have "allies" because he lacks the courage to reach out... unlike the superhero he worships on TV, "Wonder Guy", whose perseverance to fight on no matter how tough life gets earns him his allies. I can't tell you how much I love this final scene because not only does it show how much Satoru has grown as a person, having his own allies that he bonded with as a result of reaching out to Kayo and his classmates (as opposed to just "friends" he works with at his workplace), it's also clearly a tribute to those anime someone like me would normally dismiss as "kiddish" and "juvenile" because of their simplistic themes like courage and friendship. By the end of the anime, it shows how much significance such values we'd usually take for granted can mean in the adult world, having that courage to step out and bond with people. I think with how I feel towards such values and anime that explore them, such a message resonates deeply with me. In the end, Erased isn't just another whodunit mystery or even another generic time travel sci-fi, and even though it portrays child abuse very realistically, it might not even be about that. Considering that it's a seinen anime targeting adult males, one might say that it's meant to appeal the aforementioned social recluse who has lost touch with the world and forgotten the bonds one could make with others if only you just dig deep with courage and make that first move. It might seem like a childish notion that relies on the belief in people, that they will reciprocate your gesture, but Satoru has said something else in the last episode that addresses such a belief: "'I believe' is such an odd turn of phrase, isn't it? I mean, if you truly believed from the bottom of your heart, you wouldn't need to spell it out. It's like saying 'I believe in air.' So people only say 'I believe' when they doubt something? I'm not trying to say that 'believing in something' is a barefaced lie, just that they are words of hope born from a desire to believe." Notably, Satoru only comes to this conclusion because, while he was accused of a crime the villain has committed in the anime, his co-worker, Airi Katagiri, was the only one who believed in his innocence. When asked why, she said she didn't necessarily believe in him, but rather, she wanted to believe in him, the same way an innocent man like her father (who was also accused of a crime) wants to be believed in. Perhaps that childlike faith is what's required for us to connect with people. After all, what are stories but a medium to empower our beliefs? Final Rating: 8.8/10

Black Jack Final Review In 2011, to commemorate the death of Osamu Dezaki, director of the 1993 Black Jack adaptation, Tezuka Productions produced two more episodes of the anime that's aptly named Black Jack Final. It embodies the moody neo-noir tone of the original anime, which means it also embodies the cynical tone of the original manga towards human nature and warfare. The two new directors, Satoshi Kuwabara (for episode 1) and Masayoshi Nishida (episode 2) did a decent enough job paying tribute to the '93 anime. They used a similar animation style as well as the distinctive Dezaki "pastel-chalked freeze frame," albeit with sleeker 3-D animation shots included. Unfortunately, I'm not really a fan of the use of 3-D animation in anime; it's rarely done well the way Pixar does it. 3-D animation in anime, while allowing the appearance of the characters to have more depth, tends to look a lot less detailed than the hand-drawn animation of the '90s. In the case of this 2011 reboot, it seems like such is the case as well. The first episode is good enough, exploring the backstory of Pinoko, Dr. Black Jack's pint-sized assistant that I talked about in my Black Jack review. I like it for what it is, explaining how Pinoko's strangely precocious personality at such a seemingly young age. As I mentioned before, Pinoko is an 18 year old "teratoid cystoma" (a made-up medical term for the manga), or in simple terms, a sentient tumor stitched together into human form. Yeah, I know. Anime is weird. This episode involves the female head of the Saionji family known simply as "Lady Yurie" whose body the tumor had come from. It is said that she's technically her biological twin sister, but because of the complications of a family curse where one member of twin infants would die in five years or less, Pinoko was born within Yurie's body instead. I read that in the original manga, Yurie was supposed to be a lot more vain and cruel, treating her sentient tumor as an ugly thing that needs to be removed. It seems that the anime has changed that somehow by giving her more sympathetic backstory where she reluctantly removes her sister after interacting with an apparition of her for years, and she has to remove it in order to live on and perform some ritual to break the family curse. Appropriately enough, the ending of the episode is poignant and leaves Yurie with tears of regret for her actions. While I really like this tragic ending, the whole ancient magic ritual element of the story feels a little generic and distracting. A lot of popular anime that has been catered towards the mainstream demographic (like Detective Conan) seems to have a tendency to use ancient Japanese folk lore as the backdrop for "special episodes" like this. The episode also spends a bit of time exploring the Saionji clan and its traditions of dancing to break the curse every decade. Coincidentally, there is an actual feudal-era Japanese aristocratic clan bearing the same name, but I couldn't find any mention of "dancing" in its Wikipedia article (though Hiyoko Saionji of the Danganronpa video game franchise does play the same role of traditional Japanese dancer as Yurie here, so go figure). Such a focus on Japanese traditions probably has a better appeal in Japan, but for me, I've always preferred the more grounded warfare-related stories in Black Jack that doesn't involve the supernatural as they are more relatable. The second episode feels like the stronger half of the reboot for me as it once again puts the doctor in a war-torn country in South Korea named "Anryon". It's probably a made-up country as I couldn't find anything on it, but from the uniforms of the soldiers and its generals and the dictatorship of its political structure, it might as well be a substitute for North Korea. Black Jack is abducted this episode and forced to treat the dictator general of the country, one General Che Hyoku, and his glioma tumor (this show sure loves its tumors). There's a femme fatale involved in the form of Jack's bodyguard who goes by the moniker of "L" (who has abandoned her real name, Ajun), and ultimately, it leads to the kind of tragic ending fans of noir fiction should be familiar with by now. It's a familiar tale that once again, in Tezuka-fashion, displays the banality and pointlessness of war and political power struggles, but it does great justice to capture the spirit of the original stories, showing how pacifistic the brooding doctor can be even while under threat. To put this in perspective, he literally still proceeds to heal the general even after being told by L that she's gonna kill him. In spite of neither stories being as impactful or memorable as the '93 anime, I feel that the reboot does a good job in capturing the character essence of Black Jack while revisiting those old poetic themes of tragedies and warfare so ever present in pre-2000s anime. It also serves as a nice farewell to the well-respected Dezaki and Tezuka. Definitely a sentimental piece for sure that leaves fans of the original anime and manga nostalgic. Final Rating: 7.8/10

I watched this just now. Very insightful video on the intent behind the season 5 episode, The Body:

It's clear you really have strong feelings about this episode. 😂 Well, I'm not gonna try to convince you otherwise, but I don't see why you should be so bothered by how others feel about this episode. Overrated? Who cares? I think criticizing about how overrated something is is probably one of the most pointless arguments ever existed. And don't take this the wrong way, because I'm not saying it's you specifically, but on a general basis, such arguments are an expression of self-entitlement at its basest level. To clarify on the whole "what message" deal, I think it's not really one specific message like "death is sad," but more like a symphonic expression of death and the grieving that comes. It's not really like a literal message and more like showing the audience how people deal with the death of a loved one.

I guess we'll just have to... clichéd as it might sound... agree to disagree. I simply don't agree. I think the message delivered through the metaphors of The Body was meaningful enough to justify any structural problems or any lack of character development. It was Whedon trying to say something about death in a stylistic way (even if he might have said it before), and I appreciate the artful episode for what it is. I don't see the need to develop every character every, single, episode. Sometimes, an episode could just exist for either the fun of it or just to play around with themes in a cool way. This is the latter.

Angel Season 2 Review After a relatively successful series premiere, Angel season 2 proceeds to take the vague ideas of atonement and “help the helpless” in season 1 and adds layers to them. While Angel Investigations is now aware of what they must do to help people, it’s easy to paint such a goal with broad strokes and miss the point. In season 2, Angel (David Boreanaz) and Co. explore what it truly means to help others; while for Angel, he also goes on his own journey to find himself and discover what it truly means to be human. Both themes are the ways season 2 has taken a clearer approach on where it wants to go beyond the first season’s random and episodic monster-of-the-week format that bears too much similarity with Buffy’s earlier seasons. It’s a stronger direction that results in some very compelling storytelling and character examinations. For Angel, even though he now has a clear end goal in mind where he has the chance to become human again, his path to discovering his humanity, on the other hand, is a long and arduous one. What does it mean to be human exactly beyond the literal sense? Is Angel simply Angelus with a conscience? Is he the bumbling Liam who was such a disappointment to his father? Or is he a combination of all three? Angel believes that inner demon within him has never left and he needs to control it, but the imposter Swami in Guise Will Be Guise suggests that the demon is already a part of his identity. In spite of the Swami’s artifice, his words ring true. All of Angel’s wrongdoings, all the lives he has taken and even the lives he has abandoned this season are all some part of him. Perhaps one could argue that Angelus is merely Liam’s subconscious darkness brought to surface, but that only means he’s still part of Angel’s “self” (much like how Spike is a romantic like William). And so season 2 makes great strides in exploring these questions, especially through the use of Darla (Julie Bentz) and Drucilla (Juliet Landau), two walking embodiments of Angel’s past sins. Having learned of their return, Angel is once again entwined in the past rather than working towards the future. He’s once again filled with self-loathing when he becomes unable to save Darla from damnation in The Trial. She is the mirror to his past, so when he learns that there’s a chance to grant her peace, it makes sense that he associates her salvation with his own, believing that if he could free the woman who has sired him, he’s that much closer to unshackling himself from the past. Unfortunately, the past seems to have a way of haunting you in spite of your best efforts, and Drucilla comes knocking, reducing all his effort back to zero. This would spell Angel’s downfall as he feels helpless and trapped by his sins. And during his attempt to once again clean up the mess caused by his past mistakes, Angel’s quest to regain humanity would be further stifled when he decides to abandon members of Wolfram & Hart to die in the hands of Darla and Drucilla, the two vampires that the law firm was responsible in summoning. This darkness in him is not a sudden thing. Aside from the same act of apathy he performed in the ’50s, as can be seen in Are You Now or Have You Ever Been, such a resentment against the unjust traces back to as early as the first season, Blind Date, when he expressed his frustration over not being able to fight the evil of the firm, lamenting how those rich and powerful are the ones who control the world. It’s something that’s very relevant outside the realm of fiction, so when I finally got to see him sticking it to the man, even if at the cost of his own humanity (and the lives Darla and Dru will inevitably harm), I couldn’t help but feel a little elated at the notion. It’s vigilante escapism that’s in the vein of neo-noir, a genre which Angel the Series very much belongs to with its femme fatale and blurred morality. And yet, it never really reached that height of satisfaction that I would normally get from such vigilante fiction, probably because Angel’s empathy towards others is still a dominant voice amidst this dark period. His scheme to expose W&H’s crimes of fraud still results in helping out a homeless shelter during Blood Money, and even all the way until Epiphany, he has still made a conscious (or maybe subconscious) effort to help people unrelated to his revenge against W&H like Gene Rainey (Matt Champagne) in Happy Anniversary (though in fairness, Gene almost caused the end of the world, so Angel had to help). Admittedly, I was initially disappointed at the anticlimax of Angel not being any more competent than before he went dark (especially when W&H’s Lilah Morgan (Stephanie Romanov) and Lindsey McDonald (Christian Kane) are the ones who conveniently survive because of plot-armor), but looking back now, Angel holding back his full savagery is a clever subversion of your usual “fallen hero” trope, showing that he is more human than he realized, and that “unleashing the demon or darkness” within him isn’t something as simple as turning on “Evil Mode” on the villains. As long as he’s not drugged like in Eternity, that human soul in him would always be a part of his darkness and vice versa. Angel would come to realize this ambivalence of human nature in Reprise, where the executive of W&H, Holland Manners (Sam Anderson), would inform him that humanity’s evil is what kept their law firm afloat, that humans contain the very evil he’s trying to fight against. So where do you go from there once you learn that there’s no point in protecting the good people from the bad guys because such selfishness are malevolence are inherent in all of us? Is there no meaning, no greater purpose to fighting evil then? That’s where Angel gets his epiphany in the aptly named Epiphany. Back in Blind Date in season 1, Angel said that he misses the moral clarity of Angelus, even if it was immoral clarity. At the lowest point of his life, he tries to lose his soul by sleeping with Darla and become Angelus again in Reprise; it doesn’t work. He look at what he has done, going as low as sleeping with the one woman who damned him, and he sees it as “perfect despair.” And when he realizes he could indeed save someone — Kate Lockley (Elisabeth Röhm), who’s also going through her own existential depression — it all clicks. If nothing he does matters, then all that matters is what he does in the present moment, now, today, like saving Kate instead of drowning in despair. There’s a dignified meaning in that small action, just as there was meaning in helping Anne Steele (Julia Lee) with her homeless shelter. While I very much love that quote in the context of it, especially now that I have time to reflect on it, I still really don’t like how the rest of Epiphany was handled. It was “back to business as usual” as Angel and Co. fights some random demon unrelated to either W&H or Angel’s epiphany. Perhaps it is related in a meta sort of way — that none of it matters, and all there is left to do now is just go about your business and helping people as usual — but I still feel like the impact of the message was dampened by such incoherence, and it lacks the kind of solidarity where everything just clicks together nicely in Joss Whedon episodes. Metafictional constructs like these can always be a hit-or-miss due to interpretation, and a story that deliberately lacks impact just to prove a point can come off as pretentious. Nevertheless, the incoherence of it isn’t too much of a problem when I consider what fantastic storylines it has left behind. Everything up ‘till the second-half of Epiphany has been a joyride, examining such spiritual themes of human nature and the cycle of abuse. The latter is also explored in areas outside of the Darla arc, such as Untouched where Bethany Chaulk (Daisy McCrackin), victim of a sexual abuse from her father, takes back the power from her father at the end instead. Charles Gunn (J. August Richards) has his own arc that’s more relevant to such an issue, particularly The Thin Dead Line, where Gunn chastises the drug dealer Jackson (Mushond Lee) for perpetuating the intolerance between the cops and the citizens on the street, cleverly subverting the usual idea of racial persecution from the police force by indicating that “the other side” is no better. It’s these kinds of storylines that really differentiate Angel from Buffy in a more mature way, tackling more serious subject matter that’s beyond the troubles of a teenager. That’s not to downplay how well-written Buffy’s storylines still are, but it is clear from such storylines that Angel is a more gritty adult drama that deals with issues like race, crime and justice (and even McCarthyism and racial purity in Are You Now or Have You Ever Been) rather than drug addiction and familial relationships. Aside from the titular Angel, this season also examines the other characters in its second overarching theme: what does it mean to help people? While Angel is struggling with his own existential crisis, Cordelia Chase (Charisma Carpenter), Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (Alexis Denisof) and Gunn all have their own identity crisis as well. For Cordelia, she has become more sympathetic to the countless souls whose torment she experienced in the season 1 finale, To Shanshu in L.A. And while her acting career has taken off to great success, the show seems to suggest in Belonging that being vision-girl is a more fitting role for her as she can actually be of importance to people rather than just feeling important as an actress, not to mention that her role as the resident psychic doesn’t require her to degrade herself like she does for her acting gigs. And by the season 2 finale, There’s No Place Like Plrtz Glrb, she fully embraces this role by associating her visions as a part of her new identity. For Wesley, after Angel fires his staff, he struggles in accepting the role of a leader, a role he uses to impress his father with little success. This is seen in an excellent phone conversation in Belonging that’s carried entirely by Alexis alone with all the emotional nuances that comes with it. But ultimately, in There’s No Place Like Plrtz Glrb, we see shadows of a more pragmatic (and perhaps a darker) Wesley take charge as a leader when he decides to sacrifice a few to save the many, something he chose to do as well in Buffy season 3 episode, Choices. And finally, Gunn has to decide his own role between helping his own people in his home neighborhood and helping the clients of Angel Investigations. This character development traces back to his helplessness in season 1 where he feels that his actions inadvertently caused the deaths of people close to him like his sister, Alonna Gunn (Michele Kelly). In Belonging, Gunn learns that another of his friends, George (Darris Love) has died in the hands of a vampire while he’s off playing demon hunter with Angel. Considering that this guilt of his has been made clear this season since First Impressions, I wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving Angel permanently to protect his own family and friends. But instead, in the Pylea arc stretching over the tail-end of the season, he not only feels obligated to join Angel in his journey to another dimension, his earlier violent role in First Impressions has now changed into a more protective role where he seeks to help a bunch of rebels with a cause, something that undoubtedly bears similarities to his own vampire-slaying friends in his neighborhood. This kind of striking character development is the reason that, in spite of its jarring change in tone and sudden departure from the Darla arc, the Pylea arc remains a strong part of the second season where all the characters learn more about themselves in this demon dimension. Appropriately, one of the episodes in this arc is also called Through the Looking Glass, signifying Angel and Co.’s journey to look into themselves and accepting whom they are, whether it’s Angel’s human side beneath the animal, Cordy’s responsibility as a psychic, Wesley’s capabilities as a leader or Gunn’s big brother protective nature. It’s undeniably one of the best ways to create a footnote for a season, summing up the characters’ best qualities. Looking back on how I felt initially after finishing Angel season 2 and how I feel now writing this analysis, it’s easier to see why people love this season so much. It’s not just the compelling and morally ambiguous Darla arc but also all the little details in other episodes that strengthen the characters’ identities, having all of them confidently embracing whom they are as saviors of humanity fighting for justice in a corrupted world. Season 2 has now a clear identity of its own to move forward with pride. Where do we go from here in season 3? Surely it can only get better… right? Right? 😟 Oh well. At least season 5 is still widely considered to be the best. Final Rating: 8.3/10

I mean, even if it has been done before, I still think this was done better and in a more powerful way. I can see why some people like you would find such an episode boring, but I personally like intricate episodes like this and their metaphorical structures, "Chutzpah" or not. Sorry you didn't like it. I don't know what else to say in response. I really like the episode regardless of what you said.

Yeah, I've only seen up 'till season 5 so far. Like I said in my introductory post, I'm watching five '90s series. Having just seen season 5 of The X-Files recently, I'm now done with Buffy S5, and now I'm moving onto The Simpsons S6. Buffy S6 (along with Angel S3) would have to wait a little while in the rotation. 😆 I'll be sure to post lots of reactions though once I get around to it. 🙂

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 5) Review Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the series at its most confident. While season 3 is usually the most consistent in quality in many series, season 5 is usually the point where the show becomes successful enough or the showrunners become knowledgeable enough to experiment with new elements in exciting and ambitious ways. Joss Whedon has reached his fifth year running his first TV series, and he’s experienced enough about the identity of the series and the inner workings of a TV production to know what he can and can’t do, therefore allowing him to finally introduce the Prince of Darkness (Dracula, not Ozzy) in the Buffyverse during the first episode of the season, Buffy vs. Dracula. Joss even deftly included a new recurring character in a clever way that makes it seems like she’s been around all along. It involves ancient monks implanting memories in the Summers’ mind and transforming a power source into a 14 year old girl named Dawn Summers (often referred to in the season as “The Key”), neither of which feels out of place in a world full of demons, zombies, ghosts and even sentient robots. Whereas season 4 had to deal with Buffy Summers leaving high school and moving to college (with the writers figuring out what this transition means for her as a character), season 5 now has the freedom to move past all those student issues and tackle more mature issues of existentialism, mental health, terminal illnesses and death. However, it’s still very much rooted in its teenage drama elements, exploring family themes and the true meaning of love. Appropriately, this means less of the schoolground backdrop and more of Summers-home (and Giles’ newly acquired magic shop). It’s not quite the bleak “being an adult sucks” despondency yet as we still have fun and silly episodes like The Replacement, Triangle, Crush, and I Was Made to Love You, but from what I’ve heard about the depressing season 6, we’ll get there. Speaking of the magic shop, aptly named “The Magic Box”, it is probably one of the clearest examples of the show’s focus. Much like the library in the first three seasons, The Magic Box serves as Buffy’s new center for discussions of all things supernatural and hazardous to Sunnydale. Unlike the troubled production of season 4, season 5 has regained its concentration and has more consistency with its seasonal arc. The first three episodes are lighter in content as the writers get the momentum going with Dawn’s arrival, but Buffy vs. Dracula does begin the first plotline of season 5: Buffy’s exploration of her Slayer heritage. From Out of My Mind onwards, the arc really takes off by building up three other important plotlines: Riley’s departure, Spike’s affection for Buffy and Joyce’s brain tumor. One episode later, No Place Like Home introduces a fourth plotline: the seasonal villain (or the “big bad”), Glorificus (or just ‘Glory’) the Hell Goddess. Rather than meandering around random monster-of-the-week episodes with no direction, most of season 5’s episodes revolve around these five plotlines that gel together quite nicely thematically speaking. The big throughline connecting this season is family, but more specifically, a surrogate family. While Riley’s arc is probably the weakest part of the season, it serves its purpose (along with Joyce’s arc) in reflecting the loss of relationships that just happens in adulthood beyond one’s control, whether it’s due to emotional disconnection between your friends and lover or cruel tragedies that literally take away your loved ones from this world. Giles too had almost returned to England in Buffy vs. Dracula if not for Buffy expressing her need for him as a mentor (and perhaps a surrogate father figure). Spike’s arc, on the other hand, serves as the kind of unorthodox relationships one might find in times of grief, with the vampire eventually becoming part of the nontraditional family that’s the Scoobies. Even the big bad herself plays into this theme, with Ben Wilkinson (the fleshly vessel that entraps Glory’s subconsciousness) showing that just because a person is connected to you by blood or even sharing the same body, it doesn’t necessarily mean you would become a tight-knit family. Dawn’s character is the most evident in representing this message, being literally unrelated to Buffy by blood, and yet becoming as close to her as Joyce like a real family. Her character arc has been compared by others as a metaphor for adopted children struggling to bond with their surrogate family. Willow Rosenberg’s girlfriend, Tara Maclay, also contributes significantly to this theme in Family, where her own family persecutes her for practicing witchcraft (accusing her of being a “demon”), but eventually, along with the vengeance demon Anya Jenkins, she too found a special place among the Scooby family. Such a consistent theme focusing on things that are not directly related to the big bad unfortunately means that Glory doesn’t get as much spotlight in season 5 as the previous big bads do in their respective seasons. While Angel, Spike, Faith and the Mayor have played major roles in the first three seasons as both side characters and villains, Glory, on the other hand, is often sidelined as she complains to her minions about not finding The Key. Even when she does confront Buffy mid-season, she would either underestimate her or simply couldn’t be bothered about her petty existence to pose any further threat against the Summers family. This results in a pretty anticlimactic villain with the power of a goddess but the significance of a generic demon Buffy has beaten countless times. Buffy’s eventual “defeat” this season isn’t even directly caused by the villain, but another minor demon simply referred to as “Doc” (Joel Grey) whose actions in the season finale leads to an apocalyptic event that threatens all human life… much like the past two or five events in the series that posed similar threats. In other words, Glory is largely insignificant ‘till the final stretch of the series. In her defense, Glory’s sole desire is merely to return home to her own dimension, not conquer or destroy humanity like past big bads, and a goddess with the maturity of a prissy drama queen like pre-season 3 Cordelia (minus the charm and sharp wit) and such an unconventional motivation should be an interesting concept on paper. She’s more like a force of nature that wants to move on from Earth, no more malevolent than a tornado or a tsunami (albeit just as destructive), or heck, Death personified. And yet, in execution, Glory’s unique traits just don’t get played around with in any interesting manner. There’s no ambiguity in Buffy’s perception of Glory. She’s just the latest obstacle in the way of humanity’s lifespan that needs to be stopped. And with Glory being a goddess powerful beyond measure, the writers have to come up with these convoluted ways to ensure she doesn’t kill the titular character of the series, and Buffy couldn’t beat her ‘till the last episode, leaving the big bad stuck in this perpetual role that’s non-threatening or remotely engaging. Why didn’t Buffy just use the Dagon Sphere she’s had since No Place Like Home? That Chekhov’s gun has been sitting there for 17 episodes! The entire threat of the big bad relies on the Scoobies not trying out what the Dagon Sphere does to her! But perhaps it’s not such a major storytelling problem. After all, the time spent ignoring Glory was focused on exploring intricate character development and relationships. The bigger focus here on the Scooby family and Joyce’s tumor means that season 5 is more intimate and personal than the previous seasons. Rather than just have another grandiose bad guy to fight again or even fight against your shadow self (AKA Faith), this season spends more time exploring the more mundane, spiritual and less fantastical problems in life like the feeling of insignificance or the randomness of death. Joyce’s big moment in The Body was definitely a hallmark of television drama that’s rarely seen before, an episode that explores the many ways one deals with death, how one grieves and even become detached from the horrible reality. Its mature subject matter feels distinctly different from the more romantic (albeit tragic) elements of having your true love (Angel) or close friend (Faith) become your worst enemy. It’s not a plotline that’s unimaginable in everyday life, perhaps even hitting too close to home for some audiences. Meanwhile, Spike’s twisted love for Buffy is equally amusing and fascinating, further expanding the Buffyverse universe by asking whether if a neutered vampire could feel true love without a proper soul. In spite of what some might feel about “Spuffy” as a relationship, Spike’s character arc in season 5 was an essential one that deepens the vampire lore. So while I fancy as much as the next Buffy fan a poetic battle against a supervillain like Angelus or the Mayor featuring loads of guerilla tactics and tormenting the good guys’ loved ones, I don’t really mind the more down-to-earth tone of season 5. Perhaps it’s unbefitting for fans who expect a certain level of high-octane action that they’re used to in a vampire-killing gothic drama, but season 5 marked a change in the series where it’s gradually shifting towards darker and more depressing elements that one simply couldn’t punch her way out of, Slayer strength or not. It’s a bit of a downer surely, for a once bright and campy monster-of-the-week series (with a demon robot and a killer ventriloquist’s dummy) to now thrust heavy topics of addiction and the inevitable silence of death onto its audience, and there’s definitely a mood whiplash at work. But perhaps, at the risk of sounding pretentious, that’s life. Whedon has always intended for Buffy (and all his shows really) to reflect life and all its facets. With Buffy, it’s about growing up, and with Buffy season 5, the young bright-eyed girl has entered adulthood, where such unpleasant issues must be inevitably dealt with. What I think most fans would come to miss about these darker elements, however, and perhaps the entirety of the following season, is that there’s usually a bright spot at the end of it, even if it results in the death of your beloved characters. These stories are not necessarily about the darkness themselves, but overcoming darkness. In the season finale, The Gift, Buffy said one of the most memorable and probably one of my favorite lines of the series: “The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.” I feel like the ambiguity of such a line, not fully knowing whether if Buffy was optimistic or pessimistic saying it, says a lot about the similarly ambiguous perception towards the darkness of the show. This final episode of the season is mostly viewed as tragic, even by myself, but I feel that there’s light in Buffy’s actions and there’s strength in her integrity to do what’s right in the face of Armageddon. While Buffy the Vampire Slayer might very well end up as a tragic tale too depressing to stomach, I still see the hope burning within Buffy, the hope that life could always become better, that darkness will always end with dawn. Final Rating: 8.5/10

"A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. It's a privilege to be among them." There's a lot of mixed feelings on this finale, not least because of how Glory has been benched this entire season save a few episodes here and there and the final stretch of the season. And yet, it still grabs me in a similar way that Lie to Me grabbed me in season 2, where the final moments of the episode calls back to the overarching theme of the series, except in this case, Buffy's final words here resonate more with overarching theme of the season. "The hardest thing in this world is to live in it," said Buffy to Dawn, urging her not to give up in the face of many hurdles in life that's to come, to cherish the gift Buffy has granted her: life, and all its joys and pains. Buffy has endured a lot over five seasons. It all felt like it was inevitably building up to this epiphany. Even the "Previously on..." montage confirms the build-up, reflecting on everything Buffy has been through for five years. While I still think it's a clumsily-written season finale compared to the likes of Becoming and Graduation which had been fleshed out over the course of their respective seasons (instead of the last three to four episodes), I feel like it's still quite a strong contender for would-be series finales (I also heard that Chosen is a weaker series finale compared to this). The girl who just wants a normal life ("You're just a girl." "That's what I keep saying.") constantly has her happiness deprived from her in one form or other, sometimes because of her role as a Slayer, but other times it feels like life's cruelty at play (Buffy's mum). Yet, the ending here feels like Buffy embracing all that cursed fate to do the right thing regardless. It feels like the natural growth for Buffy ever since she stopped running away in Anne (season 3), accepting being a Slayer as a part of her identity in Restless (season 4), and eventually coming to terms this episode with her responsibility to protect her loved ones, even if it means her own death. In that sense, I disagree with the whole "death wish" notion because it not only oversimplifies what Buffy feels about dying for the greater good of the people, it implies that Buffy wants to die because of all the despair she has endured. "Tell Giles I've figured it out... and I'm okay." That doesn't sound like someone who's giving up because of all the pressure; that sounds like someone accepting the end in peace and tranquility. It's a complex mix of free will and determinism, almost as if Buffy believes she has that free will, and she drives it to fulfill her destiny of sacrifice...

Angel S02E21: Through the Looking Glass I think if I was in the position of a Queen for the first time in my life, I wouldn't miss the chance to shout "Off with their heads!" either. The opportunity was practically begging for reciting such a famous phrase. lol Angel being vain with his hair was hilarious. I love how much Angel is loving being able to live a normal life (or a relatively normal one) in Pylea. Can't blame him for being tempted to stay. And of course, it's all fun and games until you have to swing the crebbil on some woman's head and let your friends see the monster in you. It's poetic, this episode, using a looking glass title metaphor to reflect the feelings of Angel and Cordelia about themselves; Angel still sees the demon within him, while Cordy knows inside that she's no longer the posh and glamorous Queen Bee she once was in high school, and even her pursuit of being an actress has proven to be as degrading as her current princess outfit. I don't think Cordy is acting shallow here at all because of this; she might act all high-and-mighty after becoming the princess, but that's just her fooling around, having fun being glamorous again since high school. Let the girl have her fun. Not sure what that says about Lorne though. Beheading? He can't be dead yet, right? lol Anyway, I feel bad for Angel. I had thought that, with this arc being all comedic and lighthearted, his days of brooding and self-loathing about his inner demons are put on a hold for the rest of the season. Guess not. The way he's shaking in this episode from being reminded of whom he is, that's one tragic scene alright. Also, I never got to reflect on how the residents of Pylea see humans as the real monsters until now. This episode certainly indicates that. These demons almost act like they feel some kind of abhorrence towards humans, what with the fearsome Groosalugg turning out to be a strapping young human male. These demons might very well see Earth as the Hell dimension. Some of our own humankind would certainly agree on the hellish and demonic side of humanity.

I like this episode. It's definitely stronger thematically than the previous one. It's got that feeling of building up to the season finale, with all the pressures and despair Buffy has felt over season 5 building up to the boiling point that's this inevitable nervous breakdown. I've got a feeling that the next episode will be the culmination of all these feelings Buffy has, addressing how she feels about the responsibility she carries as a Slayer and, depending on how the episode goes, I guess we'll get to see if she truly has a death wish that's resulted from the weariness of all the deaths and tragedies she had to endure as the Slayer. God, I hope it won't disappoint. There's a lot of hype built on this finale. I've always had a fondness for the more unconventional episodes with an even more abstract metaphorical structure than usual such as "Restless" and "The Body". They seem to be more intricate in their writing and far more impressive. This is far weaker than those other two episodes because of the whole Glory/Ben schtick dragging on far longer than needed, but I really like the Buffy-mind sequence where Buffy's guilt has finally become too much for her. There's always been a fine line between Slayer and killer in this series, so this "death is your gift" idea associating Buffy as a bringer of death seems like a discussion that was inevitable. Season 4 tried to do that with the whole ambiguity of killing/experimenting on demons, but Lindsay Crouse had to leave the show and the whole structure of that season came tumbling down. But it's nice that season 5 finally gets to play around with this idea of Slayer and death.