 Written by Dai_loli
Wow, this is a harder article to write than I anticipated. Having seen up to episode 7 at this time, it's clear that Medaka Box is a great series worth watching, but it could easily be misunderstood if only briefly previewed or by just reading a synopsis. I mean, it's yet another anime centered around a student council or club that grants the rest of the student body's wishes, which has been done by other notable recent animes such as Sket Dance, Ōkami-san & Her Seven Companions, Seitokai Yakuindomo, Seitokai No Ichizon and probably more I'm forgetting. What makes this one stand out? That's what I'm here for!
 A little background, first. So, yes, Medaka Box is an anime about Sandbox Academy's student council. Medaka Kurokami's insane charisma has earned her a very one-sided win as the 98th student council president and she delivers on her electoral promise of setting up a suggestion box where anyone can ask anything and have their problems resolved as soon as she sets up shop.
 She takes on absolutely all of the council's jobs except the General Affairs position, which she hands over to her only subordinate and childhood friend, Zenkichi Hitoyoshi. Like Medaka, he is also a very capable person, excelling in combat and also thankfully more level-headed in order to counter Medaka's eccentricity. We mostly see the story unfold through his eyes, which more or less makes him the main character. Even though his outward attitude seems to suggest he dislikes Medaka, their relationship dates way back and he has the privilege of being the only one Medaka “needs” in order to function as the student council president. The show follows their slow expansion into a full-fledged team and their struggles to resolve any and all requests that come their way. Requests come in a wide range of flavors, from finding a lost dog to expelling thugs from the Kendo Hall, modeling half naked for a painter or finding ways to answer all the clubs' budget increase requests. Absolutely none of them will be resolved the way you'd expect.
 Now then, a little more persuading.
First argument: Medaka. The title of the anime would just be Box if she didn't exist, and there's a reason for that: she is a very original, intense, one-of-a-kind character. Escaping classification, my best effort would be to take Haruhi Suzumiya's charisma, abundant self-esteem and energy, then take away absolutely all of her negative sides. She is, for lack of a better term, a near perfect human. She excels at everything she does, is incredibly smart, has a dynamite body, loves everyone as if they would be part of her family, strives to help the weak, converts even the most devout evildoers to her side and very rarely shows any sign of weakness to anyone. She sees the world in her own unique way, and it's very refreshing to see, as it becomes quite hard to predict what will happen next in her presence and how she will resolve conflicts. She is a delight to follow and you will be thrilled to find out more about her as the story progresses.
 Argument the second: Nisio Isin writes the manga. This is probably the fact that surprised me the most, as Medaka Box feels very different from his other works, such as Katanagatari, Bakemonogatari and Nisemonogatari to name some that have been adapted into animated works. The setting, pacing and general feel didn't feel like Nisio Isin at all to me, but the gags, refreshing characters with depth and unpredictable plots clearly let his touch shine through.
 Thirdly and lastly: What comes next. This one is key. Before the anime was even made, I had overheard fans of the manga singing its praise at multiple occasions. After viewing the first 7 episodes, I was sold on its quality, but was still slightly incredulous at all those overwhelmingly positive vibes, so I asked around. I'm going out on a limb here, since I've only glanced at a few pages of the manga's “Clash with the Enforcers” arc and asked a few people, but things apparently get pretty awesome, pretty quick. We're talking action, drama, shounen-esque epic battle scenes and violence. Even though the first 7 episodes were a great time, the impression I got from my investigation and glancing at the comments of the 7th episode is that everything up to now was just a primer for things to come. In fact, even the anime's opening animation hints at this at the very end with a quick flash of bloody, scratched up thighs and a severely torn uniform. Just how much of this is true? I can't say right now. Is it getting me even more excited to keep watching? Definitely.
Bluntly, Medaka Box is an anime to get excited for. It has great writing, characters you want to see evolve, surprises around every corner, humor that hits the mark more often than not and a plot that promises to reach very interesting heights. So, yes, Medaka Box is an anime about Sandbox Academy's student council, but you've never seen such an OP student council before!
 
 Written by Eclipsed_Oblivion
Despite what the mainstream implies, it’s not necessary for a successful anime to be packed with epic battles and cheesy romances. Sometimes a deep anime simply about life, friendship, and a dash of music can be one of the most understated, yet most fascinating anime to watch. This is the case with Kids on the Slope. Kids on the Slope, also known as Apollo on the Slope, is a mature, complex anime that does away with mainstream cliches that, through its inclusion of jazz music, realistic 1960s setting, and wise way of portraying human relationships, proves to be thought-provoking, moving, and most of all, enjoyable.
 It’s the summer of 1966, and Kids on the Slope protagonist Kaoru Nishimi has moved to Kyushu all the way from Yokosuka. An intelligent classical pianist, Kaoru unfortunately has never had real friends, but that changes when he meets bad boy Sentarou Kawabuchi and class representative Ritsuko Mukae. The two introduce him to a world of jazz music, friendship, and even love, and Kaoru for the first time has people he can call friends. However, life always has a knack for complicating people’s lives, and that isn’t an exception in Kids on the Slope. Kids on the Slope has an emotional, memorable quality to it that, especially through its understated approach, further enhances the story’s realism.
 The first thing to set apart Kids on the Slope from other anime is the inclusion of not just any music, but jazz music. Jazz music is what brings the characters together in Kids on the Slope, but it’s not what keeps them together. Thus, while jazz is an important element to the show, it doesn’t overshadow all other aspects of Kids on the Slope either; it strikes a harmonious balance for those who enjoy jazz and for those who are more interested in other plot elements. The inclusion of jazz isn’t a cheap plot ploy to herd in more viewers either; Kids on the Slope makes fantastic use of rotoscope, an animation style in which a scene is filmed live and then animated on top, to add authenticity to the characters playing instruments. The result is that instead of the characters’ hands awkwardly pressing random keys or valves on an instrument, their hands mimic the exact way the pieces would be played by real people. Even more so, the soundtrack of Kids on the Slope is full of intricate, quality jazz pieces, and the music team includes famous composer and musician Yoko Kanno, of Cowboy Bebop and Macross Plus fame. Music is definitely taken seriously by Kids on the Slope, and, especially since jazz isn’t exactly a mainstream genre, it’s a refreshing way to introduce an audience to a more uncommon genre of music.
 The 1960s setting of Kids on the Slope, rather than being random, also has serious implications on the show. To properly convey this realistic setting, the artwork and animation reflect the same realism in return. There are no Japanese characters with huge blue eyes and blond hair; the entire cast reflects what Japanese people traditionally look like, and not everyone has to be beautiful either. The attractive characters are charming in a classic sense, whereas some characters are plain or even unattractive. This creates a bond between the audience and Kids on the Slope because, for once, the cast is filled with characters people may be able to relate to. As well, the 1960s isn’t too long after the end of World War II, which resulted in thousands of American soldiers being stationed across Japan. These soldiers were prominent in the early decades following World War II, and this is reflected in Kids on the Slope. Throughout Kids on the Slope are gaijin bars filled with American soldiers (who have perfect English instead of, as some anime cheaply are guilty of, broken English with a heavy Japanese accent), and among them is segregation of African Americans and Caucasians. This is extremely typical of the 1960s, so it definitely makes the setting of Kids on the Slope more believable. There are numerous smaller touches like this, such as record players and LPs, that make Kids on the Slope definitely a realistic period piece that remains intriguingly mature.
 What perhaps is Kids on the Slope’s most compelling attribute is its power to convey human relationships. Among the characters is what might be called a love triangle, but that poorly describes it; it’s more like a thick, tangled mass of gossamer webs, just as complicated as love in reality is. Because of the reality of Kids on the Slope’s love triangle, it’s heart wrenching. More than love in Kids on the Slope is also the meaning of friendship, including the best of times and the worst of arguments. Since the protagonist is so socially inept, these moments are extremely powerful and meaningful - they don’t take up animation time. The friendship between Kaoru and Sentarou is particularly interesting, as it’s a prime example of the yin and yang theory. The two are completely different physically - one is short, weak, and dark haired whereas the other is tall, buff, and light haired - and have stark opposite personalities. However, deep parts of themselves and their pasts bind them together; Kaoru could have easily turned out like Sentarou, and Sentarou could have easily turned out like Kaoru. This makes their friendship all the more riveting, and it’s tackled in such a mature way that it’s emotionally moving.
 It wouldn’t be correct to say that Kids on the Slope is just about music and relationships in a 1960s setting; while the jazz music is of great quality, the setting realistically conveyed, and the relationships between the characters complex, Kids on the Slope, in the end, encompasses more than just that. As the show reveals more about the characters and their world, everything unites together to eventually create an anime about human life and the fragility of one’s surroundings. While still having comic relief, Kids on the Slope is a mature, understated show that has one traveling from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other in a matter of minutes.
 Written by Victoria Holden
It's not normal that you find a show about talking animals more watchable than Polar Bear's Cafe. Usually, by the third episode of animals talking through flowery shoujo-type screen frames and vignette in front of crashing waves, the audience loses what little interest something like talking animals can grab. Have I mentioned this is a show about talking animals? What makes this show more than watchable - dare I say, "funny," "witty" and even "heart-warming" is the amazing writing and unbelievably talented voice cast. Not only will you instantly fall in love with Polar Bear, Panda and all of their friends, but you'll wish Penguin would take you out on a date. Weird? Not at all...
 Any given episode of Polar Bear might feature a conversation about something mundane, ordinary or even boring. Like, say, cell phones, dieting and weight loss, or even trying to catch a bus. That's what makes Polar Bear's Cafe so charming - it's the “The Office” of anime. The humor is so dry, and so relatable that the fact that these jokes are being made by a Panda and a Llama don't even MATTER.
You sometimes forget you are watching -talking- -animals-.
 The show is thoroughly devoted to being light and generally pointless. There's a long bit about Polar Bear driving Panda and Penguin around, a half-episode about watching cherry blossoms in the park, another about Panda getting a job at the zoo (as a part-time panda), and still another about Polar Bear and Penguin visiting him at the zoo. During most of Polar Bear Cafe, we are really just watching animals walking around like humans, talking like humans, doing things humans do. It's actually kind of weird the way most people don't interact with them in an awkward, "I'm talking to a polar bear right now" kind of way. Don't get me wrong, this show is smart. How smart? Smart enough to use its monotony and mundanely styled humor to play up the charming personalities of Polar Bear, Panda, Penguin and how they interact with other animals according to how they would in the wild. Yes, it's THAT smart.
 The show itself seems content with making subtle jokes to capture quiet laughs and chuckles, which is what makes it so appealing. It isn't trying hard to capture the hearts of its audiences with heart-wrenching tales of tragedy, or overanalyzed human condition, or giant robots. It's just charming and very fun to watch, with its large enthusiastic fan base to serve as proof of this! There are lots of minor gags, like Panda cramming himself into an overhead compartment to avoid crowding on the train, and lots of little recurring jokes. Jokes about the nature of the various animals (never send a sloth to get drinks), Panda's panda-centrism, or Polar Bear's love of puns. Especially the puns. Not an episode passes without Polar Bear going through a whole pun routine. A lot of it is pretty funny.
 Every once in a while, though, out of nowhere the show will hit one completely out of the park.
In the middle of a meandering conversation Llama will whip out a tongue-based smartphone technique. A discussion of special-event parfaits will lead to a grisly dessert-eating spectacle. An episode about dieting will be interrupted by a terrifying look at Panda's “ideal shape.” Some episodes seem to be heading nowhere when they're actually getting ready to make you snort out a lung. Panda and Polar Bear's trip to Grizzly's bad-boy bar idles along like a fish-out-of-water trifle until it hits you with the lessons Panda takes away about being “wild.” Not every (half) episode hits such a high, but in a backward kind of way that works to the show's advantage. None of the jokes would be as funny as they end up being if you weren't constantly being lured into a whimsical stupor before they land
 Another thing about Polar Bear Cafe is unlike other anime shows featuring animals as the main cast - these aren't overly-cartoony "versions" of animals. They are and look exactly as the animals look in real life. They are not cuddly caricatures of animals, they are TALKING ANIMALS. It makes for a lot of odd visual humor, as when Penguin asks for a shoulder massage and Polar Bear's large predatory appendages do exactly what they're supposed to—which is most definitely not soothing cramped muscles. Or when the animals try to use smartphones that were very much not designed for, say, penguin use. It also puts the strangeness of their world, where animals walk and work right alongside humans, in stark relief.
 Of the rest of the visuals, the background and the setting for most of the hilarity is simple and pastel. Which I think gives the animators more time to focus on the movement and the accuracy of the animals themselves. Like the visuals, Kenji Kondo's score is simple and playful and generally fairly restrained. Overall it's a soft, surprisingly realistic series style-wise.
Fair warning, though. It's also a series that is very much to be enjoyed one long, leisurely, and periodically uproarious episode at a time. It's very easy to get fed up with the long dead spots between or leading up to its periodic flashes of comedic brilliance. And even easier to start starving for substance. Take it one episode at a time, though, and it's a right fun time. In my experience, watching Polar Bear's Cafe is like Story Time during a kindergarten class. It can be a very nice re-visit to the days when you didn't have to deal with the stress of being an adult, or high school, or anything. All you had to focus on was carrot sticks and plastic zoo animals.
 Written by joe_chan
In this, our real and current world, the Sengoku period (ca. mid 1400s through the early 1600s) was a time when powerful men attempted to bring all of Japan under the rule of a single leader, that being the ultimate victor of the struggle that tore Japan apart. It was a time of incessant conflict and political power plays that factionalized Japan under multiple daimyo and soaked the soil in the blood of thousands. It wasn’t also called the Warring States period for nothing.
 In a parallel world… well, anything can happen in a parallel world, but the one we’re interested in here is that of Crunchyroll’s new show this season, Sengoku Collection (Parallel World Samurai). In that parallel world, the daimyo that fought so viciously to conquer Japan are girls, and, for some reason, they are thrown into modern Japan and left to fend for themselves.
The history and dramatization of the Sengoku era has been retold and romanticized across multiple forms of media – from games to literature to anime – for a while now. The Sengoku Collection anime is not the original format for this alternate retelling of history as it started as a CCG-style social game that’s played on mobile devices, published by Konami; now it’s been brought to life by the animation masters at Brain’s Base (Durarara!!, Natsume Yuujinchou).
Having a transgendered form of the legendary heroes of that time is not new either. Take, for example, one of Crunchyroll’s earlier simulcasts, Battle Girls - Time Paradox. However, how the stories are retold is a bit more unique.
 Instead of a sweeping epic, like how most retellings of this part of history play out, Sengoku Collection is rather a collection of vignettes that is somewhat more of a slice-of-life look into how these gender-swapped generals might fare in today’s world. These speculative tales show our ambitious young leaders winning over Japan in other ways, such as through media, entertainment, and the underground world of the yakuza. All except for one, anyway…
Our world’s Oda Nobunaga was regarded as a brutal and ruthless leader, one that almost succeeded in unifying all of Japan. The parallel world version is depicted as fearless and unfailingly confident in herself. While the other generals seem to have accepted their new way of life, Nobunaga is determined to return to her time, so that she may continue her conquest. So, in order for the parallel-version Nobunaga to hop back over to her world, she must collect the Secret Treasures that reside within each of the other great generals that were spirited away into the modern world.
 Or at least this is what she is told by three mysterious omnipresent priestesses sporting animal ears and tails. This is made more interesting as the series actually opens with Nobunaga standing atop the burning Honnou-ji Temple with her faithful page, Mori Ranmaru. As she falls to her apparent demise, she calls out Akechi Mitsuhide’s name. This is a call-back to the real-world Nobunaga’s death, where he committed seppuku within the inner sanctum of the burning Honnou-Ji temple by Ranmaru’s side, after Mitsuhide betrayed and attacked him. So, what exactly is the parallel world Nobunaga planning to go back to?
The second daimyo that we are introduced to is Tokugawa Ieyasu. In the real world, he is the one who is credited for ultimately succeeding in unifying Japan after the Battle of Sekigahara; his reign ushered in the 250 year rule of the Tokugawa family and the Edo Period. Historically, Ieyasu at one point became closely allied with Nobunaga, which gave him a foothold to take over when Nobunaga’s successor, Toyotomi Hideyoshi passed away. His parallel world counterpart loves to sing and dance. She decides to pursue the life of an idol after watching one perform on TV, and in the end, chooses to change the focus of her life to remaining as modern Japan’s top idol, rather than return to her time.
 Next, we are treated to the story of Uesugi Kenshin and Naoe Kanetsugu. In our world, Kenshin (not to be confused with a certain scarred ronin who won’t come into prominence for another two and a half centuries in his own little parallel dimension) was a renowned general whose prowess and devout worship of the Buddhist god Bishamonten earned him the nickname God of War. His skillful strategies even brought him victory against Nobunaga a number of times, but he passed away before he could push his advantage. Kanetsugu was a faithful retainer to the Uesugi family and served two generations of Uesugi lords. He was a competent battlefield commander in his own right and recognized for his honor and respect for his enemies.
 Kenshin’s parallel-world persona, on the other hand, has become a world-class model since arriving in the modern world. She is tended to by an infatuated Kanetsugu, who became color-blind after learning that Kenshin no longer had any desire to spread the word of Bishamonten through their conquest of Japan. Kanetsugu is also something a little more than human as we learn in the end…
How these girls, who were once ambitious conquerors and generals hoping to win or hold on to their own slice of Japan during a tumultuous era, cope with the relatively peaceful modern age with all its amenities and conveniences is one of the more interesting aspects of this show. How do you think you’d handle things if you were suddenly transported into the world 400 years into the future?
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