Такопийн анхны нүгэл үйлдсэн аниме дасан зохицох нь үл тоомсорлож, үл тоомсорлож буй захирал нь бусад хүмүүст таалагдахгүй байхын тулд гараа тээрэмдэх, дээшлүүлдэг. Хэцүү зам, гэхдээ эцэст нь харилцааны хувьд гайхалтай, гэхдээ
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Хэрэв та бие махбодийн хүчирхийлэл, амиа хорлох, би такопид эмзэг хандлагатай байгаа бол та такопи руу эмзэг ханддаг. Хэрэв эдгээр сэдвүүд танд шууд хандахгүй байгаа ч гэсэн энэ бол та зөв толгойн зайд байх үед хамгийн сайн туршлага юм; Энэ итгэл найдвараас үл хамааран та зовлонгоос үл хамааран та энэ нь цувралын хамгийн сонирхолтой талыг ажиглаж болно. Хэрэв та үүнийг бэлтгэж байгаа бол, гэхдээ үргэлжлүүлэхийн тулд чөлөөтэй мэдэр. Хэрэв би энэ нь маш сайн ажил гэж бодож байгаагүй бол
takopi анимептинг хийх нь зүйтэй юм. Эхнийх нь нь бүтээлч тал дээрх хүмүүстэй харьцуулахад хамгийн их анхаарал хандуулахгүй байгаа мэргэжлээрээ тохирч байна. Үйлдвэрлэгчид. Энэ сайт дээрх нэр томъёог хайж олох нь танд хэдэн арван нийтлэл рүү хөтлөх болно, гэхдээ тэд Neat trivia-г илчилсэн, эсвэл нэг төслийн сүлжээг илчилдэг. Та анимециистийн ач тустай үед, түүний эргэн тойрон дахь Хөдөлмөрийн нөхцөл байдал, энэ нь хамгийн их үнэний квог хийхэд ашиглагдаж байгаа бөгөөд энэ нь хамгийн сүүлийн үеийн статусыг намдаахад хүргэдэг.
seitokai yocuindo ,
epicules-ийг даван туулж, одоо ч гэсэн өөрийгөө дэмждэг. Туршилтын тест уран зураачдын зэрлэг олон тооны уран бүтээлчдийг угтаж, тэр ч байтугай урьд өмнө хэзээ ч харж байгаагүй, дуут жүжигчид Энэ бүхэн sudo-г зөвтгөсөн: Өвөрмөц, хумс хийх нь өвөрмөц, хадаас, та тэр даруй вирусын торны хаан байх болно. Төлөвлөгдсөн үйлдвэрлэгч нь энэ нь төлөвлөсөн бөгөөд энэ нь төлөвлөөгүй дарааллаар удирддаг бөгөөд энэ нь төлөвлөгдөөгүй, гэхдээ Sudo хэлбэрээр Goolove, гэхдээ in sudo хэлбэрээр, тэр гэнэтийн болон зүүн хааны бичлэгийг хийсэн гэж бодож магадгүй юм. Pop Team Epic S2-ийг
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НЭГДҮГЭЭР СУРГУУЛЬД ОРУУЛЖ, Tabekeko Doubutsu нь <
юуны талаар унших боломжтой вэ? Хоолны шүүхэд их дуртай, бид бас богино эх сурвалжийн материалтай харьцдаг. 16 бүлэгт багтаасан хоёр боть, 16 бүлэгт багтсан бөгөөд цуврал нь бүхэл бүтэн курс бөглөх чадвартай байх шаардлагатай байсан. Баг нь тухайн үйл явдлуудад органик мэдрэмжийг бий болгоход бэлэн байдлыг харуулсан бөгөөд Sudo нь цувралыг тогтмол хэмжихийг эсэргүүцэж байсан. Эцсийн эцэст такопийн мөн чанар нь үүнийг хэт ихээр урьж байгаа тул түүний мессеж, потенциал бус бодит байдал, гэхдээ та үүнийг хоёр дахин их зүйлийг үл тоомсорлох явдал юм. Шоу нь зовлон зүдүүрээр хэт их урсах болно Такопийн ангийн тоог ойлгосон нь илүү сайн хуудас байхгүй байсан тул энэ дасан зохицоход хүргэсэн бөгөөд энэ нь энэ дасан зохицох явдал юм. Хамгийн эртний үзэл баримтлалын үеэс хойш болон түүний саналд, түүний саналд чиглэсэн платформуудыг зохих ёсоор ашиглахаар шийдсэн; Өмнө дурьдсанчлан, энэ нь онлайн тархалтын эрин үе хүртэл ийм олон жил тохиолддог. <
-ийг үйлдвэрлэсэн бүх холболтыг ашигласан бүх холболтыг ашигласан. Хосо-ийн карьерын харцыг үзэх нь таны бүтээлч багийнхантай харьцуулахад чиглүүлж буй зүйлсийн зургийг харуулсан гадаргуугийн зургийг зурж, бизнесийнхээ тээглээрэй. Тийм ч учраас үүнийг тэмдэглэх нь зүйтэй, ялангуяа Техо хотод байх нь зүйтэй бөгөөд ялангуяа ТЕНДОН> Ханебадо нар cheenoi. <
inigiiya 2019-202-202-202-202-202-аас Тэдний нэр нь өөрийнхөөрөө том биш байж болох юм, гэхдээ энэ нь бусад хүмүүсийн алдар сууг гар урлалын дүр төрхтэй болох нь батлагдсан бөгөөд Тэдний анхны гүйцэтгэл нь
нь гайхалтай хөгжмийн хомсдолтой танилцах явдал юм. Дараах жилүүдэд студид үйлдвэрлэсэн видео, үргэлж бэлэн мөнгө дагалдаж бэлэн мөнгө дагалддаг. Эдгээр илүү их амбицтай төслүүдийн аль нэгийг нь гаргах бүрт илүү их амбицтай төслүүдийн аль нэгийг нь гаргаж ирэх болно. . Сэтгэл хангалуун бус, Энэ нь яагаад энэ нь тэдэнд нэг ангийнхандаа итгэхгүй байсан. Такопийн төлөвлөлт эхлэхэд энэ нь үнэн бөгөөд нь студи үүсгэдэг. Хэдийгээр такопийн цуврал шугаман захирагч: (監督, Kantoku): (監督, kantoku): Бүх үйлдвэрлэлийг бүхэлд нь бүтээлч шийдвэр гаргагч, эцсийн удирдагчаар хариуцдаг хүн. Тэд үлдсэн ажилтнуудыг даван туулж, эцэст нь сүүлчийн үгтэй байдаг. Өөр өөр түвшний захирлуудтай цувралууд байдаг. Гэхдээ Ерөнхий захирал, туслах захирал, цуврал найруулагчийн туслах захирал, цуврал найруулагчийн захирал, бүх стандарт үүрэг гүйцэтгэгч. Эдгээр тохиолдлын шатлал нь тохиолдлын хувилбараар хэрэг юм. Өмнө нь энэ багт ажиллаж байсан бөгөөд түүний захирал, түүхийн самбарын хувьд ponde. Хэдийгээр түүний талыг харж байгаа ч бүрэн түүхийг хэлдэггүй. Японы Sakugasakuakuga (作画) (作画) (作画) (作画) (作画) (作画): техникийн хувьд зураг зурах, гэхдээ илүү сайн дүрслэл. Барууны фенүүд нь японы фэнүүдийн дэд зүйл хийдэг гэсэн үгийг илэрхийлэхийн тулд тэр онцгой сайн дүрслэлийг илэрхийлэснээс хойш урт хугацааны туршид байдаг. Манай сайтуудын брэндийн нулимс. Нийгэмлэг нь зөвхөн өнгөрсөн үеийн тривиа биш, харин түүний мэргэжлийн карьерын хамт хувьсан хувьсан хувьсан өөрчлөгдөж байсан. Тэр ч байтугай өөрийнхөө радио нэвтрүүлгийг эхлүүлж, идэвхтэй, идэвхтэй хувь нэмэр оруулагчдын хоорондох гүүр нь ижил төстэй галт тэрэгний хоорондох гүүрийг үзэж болно. Үүнд < By entrusting everything to such a deceitfully capable director and studio, Sudo’s vision of an impactful but also thoughtful realization of Takopi became possible. The level of draftsmanship across the whole show is impressive, consistent in quality right up to the final stages yet surprisingly diverse in stylistic angles. There is no denying that it’ll be one of the greatest anime productions of the year; in a regular season, it would easily take the crown for the summer, but a metropolis-shaped abnormality has gotten in the way of that. It’s no exaggeration to say that this has solidified Enishiya’s growth as the most textbook rise within the industry in recent times. While other new studios (like CyPic or Soigne) have immediately made a lot of noise upon their arrival, Enishiya’s gradual escalation feels like the example to follow. If they proceed to make carefully chosen, spaced-out full series and theatrical offerings over the next few years, they’ll have completed the most perfectly step-by-step growth in scope you could hope to plan. Rather impressive, considering they haven’t sacrificed their quality along the way. Takopi has benefited from all the positive aspects we’ve explicitly shouted out, as well as some that we’ve left implied. One of the reasons it was important to note that the planning began all the way back in 2022 was to make it clear that the actual production also spanned an unusually lengthy span of time—hitting two years for those most deeply involved. That is mandatory when you aim to create animation with these standards of quality, though conversely, don’t take their results to mean that it was a breeze. Takopi’s production only wrapped up a few days before the broadcast of the last episode, with some members of the team rather burned out by the nature of the title and its demanding quality. Although it never dips to worrying levels, you may have noticed that the finale in particular has no room for extra flair. And, even if that hadn’t been the case, the fact remains that they cut it close by the end. A studio that tries to act the right way like Enishiya still isn’t immune to these issues, especially given their ambition. As important as it is to keep that in mind, rather than the ending of it, we should consider the early stages of this project some more. I believe you can approach Takopi from various angles, but frankly, many of them would result in a frustrating, self-defeating experience. Ponte’s wish not to relish in the violence, alluded to in his own interview with Mantan, is a fundamental precept that put him on the same page as the producer at the genesis of this project. That said, the director also mentions embracing the viewpoint of one of his mentors: Masayuki Kojima, who led the aforementioned Made in Abyss with Ponte under his wing. When facing similarly heavy works, Kojima is a proponent of tackling every single topic originally explored, though also the type of creator to take a quiet step back to keep a watchful eye on the characters. In Takopi terms, that means not shying away from the depictions of abuse even if (and to a degree, because) those are tough to swallow, but also not zooming in on the violence so much that you forget about the personhood of the victims. Even with that core stance established early on, there was more nuance to the framing that took longer to solidify. Ponte mentions a pivot from a more Shizuka-centric angle, which would have put the viewer in the shoes of a victim of parental neglect and severe harassment in school, to the story as we finally experienced—a camera closer to the titular alien, with its naive yet also admirable optimism. This is in line with the team’s wish to deliver glimmers of hope off the bat; sure, Takopi is an ultimately uplifting tale, but it’s easy to forget that across the often-miserable events that lead to that conclusion. Choices like ever so slightly approaching the happy octopus and adjusting Shizuka’s pants to be brighter add up to a feeling that, for as dark as the situation is, there is some hope to that world. This latter choice was of course made by color designerColor Designer (色彩設定/色彩設計, Shikisai Settei/Shikisai Sekkei): The person establishing the show’s overall palette. Episodes have their own color coordinator (色指定, Iroshitei) in charge of supervising and supplying painters with the model sheets that particular outing requires, which they might even make themselves if they’re tones that weren’t already defined by the color designer. Yuki Akimoto, one of the best in the business, but it’s worth noting that so was the former. Consistent with his position of allowing others to shine around him, Ponte is also very open to feedback from anyone in the team. His broad understanding of animation leads to the belief that, if you’re intertwining it with storytelling, then all its elements are pieces in the same puzzle. Compartmentalization can be useful from a management perspective, but buying into it too much from a creative standpoint is inherently limiting. Sure, the main role of individuals in color and design duties isn’t to write a story on paper—but theirs are among the tools that will ultimately breathe life into that script. And so, you might as well listen to their big picture vision as well. Not a coincidence, then, that Takopi also entrusted Awoi Otani with the color scripts that define much of the texture of the adaptation (just like they’d already done for the surprisingly atmospheric Makeine anime!). If we delve into the first episode, the series directorSeries Director: (監督, kantoku): The person in charge of the entire production, both as a creative decision-maker and final supervisor. They outrank the rest of the staff and ultimately have the last word. Series with different levels of directors do exist however – Chief Director, Assistant Director, Series Episode Director, all sorts of non-standard roles. The hierarchy in those instances is a case by case scenario. does indeed leave the spotlight to someone else: character designer and chief animation directorChief Animation Director (総作画監督, Sou Sakuga Kantoku): Often an overall credit that tends to be in the hands of the character designer, though as of late messy projects with multiple Chief ADs have increased in number; moreso than the regular animation directors, their job is to ensure the characters look like they’re supposed to. Consistency is their goal, which they will enforce as much as they want (and can). Nagahara. In the manga, Taizan matches the roughness of the events with their own raw, pointedly disheveled drawings. This is the type of illustrative quality that tends to get lost when adapting things to animation, which requires countless drawings and for them to be able to move. Given this project’s exceptional circumstances and Nagahara’s own skills, though, he goes line for line with the original author when it comes to depicting the consequences of abuse. Ponte explained that this degree of reproduction—and even elevation—of this aspect was so costly that they couldn’t use it willy-nilly. Whenever possible, though, Nagahara’s pen was there to take the show to the next level. And boy, is that first episode a showcase of that. It goes without saying, but the reason why this is such an important point in Takopi isn’t the technical achievement required, but its visceral effect on the viewer. When going over Nagahara’s previous work, some aspects that stood out were the depiction of space and the tangible animation. The former increases the immersive feeling, leading to the type of layout that makes this series even more reminiscent of the cult classic Alien 9 anime. However, it’s the latter that makes a difference for Takopi. Whereas Nagahara has used this tactile quality before in tender ways (we still get some of that with his own key animation here), the commitment to a style that makes you feel like you can touch the animation has an entirely different effect when you’re dealing with such horrifying events. Before any depiction of abuse, preceding even the opening itself, the harsh reality of Shizuka’s life is palpable in the weariness of her backpack. The severity of her situation is gradually conveyed through details like that, with an impact that far transcends the objective pieces of information like “her belongings are old and have insulting words written all over them”. Once the full extent of the abuse becomes explicit, the already gut-wrenching events become even more uncomfortable through artwork; a style that isn’t realistic, yet packs very thorough detail that magnifies the effects of real violence. I believe that overall, this is part of what makes this show so special, though it admittedly is overdone in spots. The rendering of Shizuka’s wounds is so ghastly that it challenges the suspension of disbelief, especially in later episodes where she’s very visibly injured while in class. A tough pill to swallow, even accounting for the subjective framing, and too close to a type of gratuitousness you don’t want given the sensitivity of these topics. In the end, though, small issues given the tremendous upside. To put those together, tentoten was in charge of a parallel, solo production process that led to visuals closer to what one might see in non-commercial animation; we can’t forget that they were an independent animator before CSM catapulted them to fame, and that they remain active in that space. When watching the show along with viewers, Ponte recalled the non-chronological way that the series-wide Happy Artist role came to be. Although he didn’t meddle much in the cut distribution for episodes other than his own, he had originally requested tentoten to give special treatment to a pivotal scene with Takopi during the fifth episode. As it came together, Ponte liked the result so much that he decided to retroactively apply this all-encompassing approach anytime that Takopi’s worldview had to be rendered. It may not have been originally planned, but this was an excellent swerve into what has now become one of the cornerstones of the Takopi anime. Across these early stages of the story, contrast remains a central concept. One of the most memorable introductions of such friction comes at the very end of episode #02. While the schedule didn’t allow for the entire series to use film scoring, they were able to selectively apply that approach as the director saw most fit—and understandably, that was the case for this closing scene. After watching Shizuka endure so much harassment at the hands of her classmate Marina, even Takopi’s overwhelming optimism is being tested; no matter how many Doraemon-like gadgets it uses, how many times they redo the events, tragedy always awaits. As the flipside of those Happy Artist moments, the storyboardStoryboard (絵コンテ, ekonte): The blueprints of animation. A series of usually simple drawings serving as anime’s visual script, drawn on special sheets with fields for the animation cut number, notes for the staff and the matching lines of dialogue. uses Takopi’s subjective perception to illustrate why it’s compelled to spring into action… and how that leads to the accidental murder of Marina. Even in such an immediately dark series, this becomes the most shocking event you’ve witnessed at this point. Anyone would be overwhelmed by negative feelings, save for one exception: the child who has been systemically denied a sense of normalcy, for whom the death of her ruthless bully is a reason to rejoice. And this is where the music plays a key role. Ponte had vaguely asked for a classical-like piece of music to capture this discrepancy, but it was sound director Jin Aketagawa who specifically suggested to (mis)match this objective tragedy with Shizuka’s perceived feelings of triumph through Vivaldi’s Spring. Apart from the sheer impact of the scene, moments like this also help underline that these two lead characters parallel each other in a fascinating way. Both Shizuka and Takopi are effectively aliens who haven’t experienced regular, peaceful human coexistence; the tragedy being, of course, that Shizuka should have had access to the type of life that would allow her to conclude that this wasn’t a positive event. Mirroring those tonal clashes, the episode also deliberately deploys stylistic whiplashes to illustrate the mismatches in perception. That much is true of the first episode, but the flavor in the following one is rather distinct. Even as the grittier detail still gets used to show the darker side of this story, its realization is noticeably different from the first episode; much thinner lines this time around, matching character art that does a whole lot more implication compared to Nagahara’s explicit detail. This isn’t an accident, but rather the natural result of Moaang’s central role in episode #02. As the storyboarder, director, and animation supervisor, the departure toward more naturalistic animation is an excellent example of how Takopi’s framework gives plenty of pivoting room to specific artists. We observe a similar shift in the third episode, as another artist takes a similarly central role. Compared to Moaang’s preceding work, it’s certainly not as extravagant, but the reasons why have very little to do with Eri Irei’s undeniable skills. For starters, it’s worth noting that Takopi’s directorial team was small. Assistance aside, it effectively contained only 4 members working alongside Ponte. Among them, half were individuals whom the team actively reached out to. Specifically, Moaang and the person who led the fifth episode went through that guest treatment. In contrast, the other two got the job by virtue of being employed at the studio and having the sophistication that the team was looking for. Unfortunately, that poor Irei got a heavy job dumped on him with little input, which helps explain why his experience in particular was so mentally draining. Again, this isn’t to say that the episode is worse because its director struggled. If anything, Irei is somewhat similar to Ponte in that he excels in such a casual manner that you’re led to believe that great filmmaking happens on its own. As the story opens up more to the other kids around Shizuka, this episode does an excellent job of illustrating those new perspectives. Through his storyboards, Irei puts you in the shoes of Naoki: born to a seemingly more stable family, but clearly neglected by a mother who barely recognizes his personhood. The quivering of the camera matches his confusion when he stumbles upon this accidental killing, while the transitions and body language allow you to understand that he happens to be susceptible to Shizuka’s perhaps inadvertent manipulation. There is a toxic chemistry between the two that is never verbalized, for starters, because he wouldn’t even have the words to properly explain why his childish mind associates those two women in his life. And when you can’t use words, you need the finesse that Irei’s direction quietly delivers. In addition to those glimpses of Naoki’s everyday struggles, Marina’s passing and her replacement with a shape-shifting octopus also provide a real taste of the everyday experience in another broken home. Like basically every father in the story, Marina’s dad is absent; in his case, on an emotional level, compared to Shizuka’s dad who has physically left everything behind. Irei’s storyboards convey that by constantly obscuring his expression, while Takopi in Marina form tragically misreads the conflict in this household as lively rather than violent. Even more than the violence it experiences as Marina’s mom takes everything out on her daughter, it’s the knowledge that this was once a happy family that really hits Takopi’s mind. Notably, the thing that first disappeared from this family is what the series yearns for: real communication. The way that Takopi finds out about their past, through environmental storytelling that showcases not just photos but the decoration that Marina and her mom would adorn their home with, illuminates another excellent side of this adaptation. Ponte’s words garnered attention by pointing out how much research went into figuring out period-appropriate popular colors for school supplies, but this mentality is broader than that specific detail. Marina’s purple backpack matches her room, her sense of fashion feels like a natural extension of the hobbies she shared with her mother, and you can feel a sense of consistency in such details that allows you to imagine lives beyond the constraints of this story. When each of the kids returns to their home, you can feel their social standing in more nuanced ways than the sheer size of their house. In a series so unflinching in depicting child abuse, especially with this episode’s more realistic and commonplace examples, this humanization is essential. That mindset carries over to episode #04, which is rightfully considered one of the greatest in an already impressive series. It’s not unfair to say that it was set up for success, as it’s arguably the most self-contained, satisfying catharsis before the end of the series. Noting that, though, shouldn’t distract us from how exceptional the execution is. Toya Oshima, another Enishiya mainstay we talked about before, left even his fans speechless with the first episode he ever led as storyboarder and director. Best known for an expressionistic approach to animation that he has cultivated around his adoration of living legend Shinya Ohira, Oshima opens up the episode in a perfectly clinical way instead. After realizing that the real Marina corpse they’d hidden has been found, Naoki’s initial shock isn’t conveyed through the abstractions the director often utilizes, but rather through sound and jump cuts that demonstrate that nothing is registering for him. By rearranging the events so the intro ends with his older brother shaking him out of this shock, it’s already building up to the satisfying climax. Once we venture into the meat of the episode, the more bombastic side of the director rears its head, though always in a very pointed way. There’s one natural consequence of the tactile approach to the show’s drawings that we haven’t mentioned so far: the direct relationship it has with the usage of background animation since the very beginning. After all, cel-forward cuts are inherently more tangible, making them a great fit for Takopi’s goals. As someone with a great affinity for such cuts, as well as with gritty linework in general (shout out to animation director Hayate Nakamura for helping preserve the charm of rough genga lines too) Oshima finds great ways to weaponize background animation sequences. That is the type of animation that we see as Naoki is once again drawn by Shizuka’s toxic magnetism; something that, as a bystander, Takopi perceives as the two of them straying away despite their objective physical proximity. Background animation can embody the dread of feeling a disappointed parent approach, and just by adding some more Ohira-like undulation, capture a growing emotional gulf and a whole worldview collapsing. It’s also used in the most interesting relationship we see play out in this episode—one of the very few healthy familial bonds in the entirety of Takopi. That is, Naoki’s relationship with his older brother Junya. Previous episodes had already shown glimpses of Junya as this supremely talented sibling who, by no wish of his own, tormented Naoki through their mother’s demands to follow his path of unmatched excellence. Thanks to that slight step back from the events that Ponte initially decided to take, you could always intuit that he was a fantastic older brother who genuinely cared for Naoki; a precious presence in a show where so many kids are denied parental affection, the one love that should be completely unconditional. As he regularly does, Hayate Nakamura also key animated a massive number of cuts (116 this time around) in addition to his supervision duties. Whenever people talk about animators with an absurd balance of quality and quantity, he should be one of the names that pops in everyone’s minds—especially given how emotive his work remains despite those workloads. Through his direction in episode #04, Oshima does a masterful job in highlighting that gap. Naoki’s emotional baggage makes him misread his brother’s approaches as ominous, but there are enough level-headed moments surrounding those subjective sequences that, as a viewer, you can always tell that Junya’s intent is good. With a mother who has given up on him completely, the person to break through Naoki’s jaded view of his life—the one that leads to him embracing a toxic relationship with Shizuka—is none other than Junya. The little brother perceives him as towering and monstrous as he comes close, but when his plea shatters those nightmares, it’s a caring older brother who looks at him straight in the eye and on his level. The way he formulates his help is, again, a straightforward allusion to the overarching theme of the show: communication. Junya doesn’t know the truth about what his sibling has been up to, so more than anything else, he begs Naoki to properly talk and listen to him from now on. This won’t undo all problems, but it’s the foundation of the happiness Takopi believes in. Even with his fondness for abstraction, Oshima’s delivery is explicit and pointed outward. That is the norm in Takopi, and also what makes the team’s choice of a guest director and storyboarder for the following episode especially interesting. Hirotaka Mori is a name we’ve highlighted multiple times on this site, especially as it relates to his series direction debut in the impressive Tengoku Daimakyou adaptation. Whenever Mori comes up, one of his most admired qualities is the ability not to openly expose the most heinous details of the dark topics he’s often entrusted with, while still retaining their impact in the delivery. This mentality isn’t foreign to Takopi—we’ve talked about both Ponte and his mentor deliberately taking a small step back—but Mori’s elegant, non-invasive framing is quite unlike the explicit violence that most of this show portrays. And so, for episode #05, those two tendencies meet in the middle. It’s immediately clear that Mori’s polite approach isn’t necessarily subtle, with a neglectful mother being the only one with even a slight access to the light, and the most hopeful visuals around Shizuka coinciding with her coming across happy families. Her quest to meet her dad (and the dog she refuses to believe is dead) leads to the discovery that he has found a new happy family of his own, one with no place for her. It’s in moments like this that Mori’s storyboarding tends to gracefully turn the camera away, giving the characters some room while still showing enough to make feelings clear. We see this repeatedly across the most tragic scenes, but also the quieter moments of vulnerability. Looking back at episode #04 for a second, the bombastic climax is also worth highlighting because of the amusing parallels with Ken Yamamoto’s Uma Musume film. Rainbow sparkles flying as a hand extends to crush a phantom that was stunting someone’s spiritual growth should feel very familiar to fans of that movie, even more so given that Shuu Sugita animated both scenes. With Shizuka on the brink of falling apart, the titular alien finally remembers the true beginning of the story: its meeting with an older Marina, mentally and physically scarred from the escalation of the abusive household we’ve already seen. A chance meeting with Naoki opens up a door to a potentially brighter future, not only as support for her, but as a way to reestablish a traditional family that her mother has come to obsessively idolize after her marriage fell apart. And yet, the reappearance of Shizuka—grown to be a deliberate manipulator at this point—leads to even more violent abuse. This rollercoaster of unstable emotions uses color to depict a sad truth: even though we follow this story from Marina’s point of view, it’s clear that in an abuser’s home, it’s their feelings alone that dictate the atmosphere. This turn for the worse is intertwined with the cynical facsimile of romance around Shizuka’s actions, delivered through an amazing sequence that shows how much he absorbed from Toshimasa Ishii in their collaborations. Normally, Mori would be able to combine those moments with his beautiful, evocative shots to tell even the darkest stories. But that wouldn’t suffice for Takopi, a series that has made a point to closely examine the worst type of violence. As the abuse escalates, with Marina accidentally killing her mother in self-defense before taking her own life as well, the director’s usual implications don’t make the cut on their own; perhaps they would in an adaptation led by him, but not in the equivalent of letting the foot off the gas in a version of this story that has gotten you used to an imposing, uncomfortable sense of speed. And thus, Mori swerves towards a more visceral, explicit framing that will leave no viewer feeling comfortable. On its own, those distressing feelings are already important to capture. And when examining the narrative in its entirety, this is the right moment for the show to be as direct and explicit as possible. Takopi’s status as a naïve, well-meaning outsider to these human woes allows the series to use the alien to verbalize its message about the cyclic nature of violence in a natural way—this would be discovery for the alien, and one that it could weirdly frame as positive still. This conclusion is obviously not revolutionary; frankly, it’s not new for the series either, as it’s easy to deduce from the beginning that they’re making this point. That said, and as is often the case with Takopi, there’s a lot of power in the bitter traces that spell out these words. You may have noticed that Marina’s mother has clear patterns in her physical abuse. She tends to slap her daughter repeatedly, often on the same side of the face. Grabbing Marina by her hair and threatening her with sharp objects near her face is something she has done so many times, across multiple timelines, that it always elicits a traumatic response. If you return to the first episode with that in mind, you’ll quickly pick up on the specific way she begins hitting the person she believes to be Shizuka, whom she grabs by her hair and threatens to stab with a pencil near her face. Incidentally, that final moment of violence was handled by Danny Cho, the animation director for the fifth episode that illuminates Marina’s inherited abusive tendencies. His style is rounder and more pleasant than the show gets you used to, but he’s perfectly in his bag when handling these moments of bleakness; so much so, that he joked about swiftly drawing an ominous Shizuka because he’s always in charge of evil faces. The truth is that Danny Cho had already contributed to Takopi, including the chilling portrayal of Shizuka taking her own life in the first episode—obvious content warning for those who want to proceed. Despite that cuter roundness in his style that we mentioned, likely tied to his experience at Dogakobo, his affinity for this type of material is clear. In fact, that wouldn’t be the first time he depicts a traumatic death in the first episode of a show that haunts it for its entire runtime. Which is to say that yes, he was also in charge of Ai’s final moments in Oshi no Ko. Obviously, it’s not just Marina who is stuck inside a toxic cycle. Shizuka has been abandoned by her father, and while working as an escort, her mother doesn’t seem to look out for anyone but herself. She grows up with no remotely positive parental figure, so what she learns is to use seduction as a tool of manipulation like we see in her reencounter with Naoki. Again, this is similar to what we’d already observed of them as kids, but multiple years in such an environment have further poisoned her. Even the pure Takopi, in its attempt to help Marina, demonstrates that it has learned violence from its experience in the darkest corners of human society. All three of them have forms of kindness within them, which the show depicts with as much detail as the inherited cruelty. Even if the intergenerational nature of abuse is a commonly understood idea, few works can examine their perpetrators without blinking and then carefully depict how those traits manifest in their victims. Frankly, most series wouldn’t even want to do that, as it’s more comfortable for everyone to pretend that abusers are ontologically evil, and their victims, unquestionable forces of good. For as preposterous as some aspects of Takopi are, it feels more attuned to the realities of disenfranchised people than the norm, hence its choice to illustrate (but not individually condemn) what it’s like to be at the bottom of this pyramid of violence. Takopi isn’t here to blame Shizuka and Marina for their acts, but rather to beg for a situation where children are not pushed to a position like theirs; and that, if they are, they at least have supportive relationships of any kind. What is Taizan’s suggested solution, then? As far as specific, structural change that we could apply as actual policy, none. The protagonist of the series is an octopus whose best-known line is that it doesn’t understand(pi), so it was never going to alchemize a social panacea to solve issues we haven’t figured out in the real world. It also wasn’t going to reflect that violence onto other characters—for as much as some parents are asking for it—as that would have been satisfaction for the readers more than for the characters themselves. Instead, it’s the titular alien’s idealism that is used to channel its one wish: improving communication to, if not solve, at least palliate issues like this. With Ponte back in the director’s seat, that’s the one thing left for the finale to illustrate. Having gone all out on the preceding episodes, the production arrives at this point with just enough energy to make it to the goal, but his fundamentals and Reina Ueda’s amazing performance as Shizuka seal the deal. When Takopi confronts her again, she breaks down about the cruelty she’s had to quietly endure, about everything children are supposed to take for granted but she never had. The alien has no answer to her questions about what she could have done instead, but it can apologize for not having tried to listen to her and then promise to do so moving forward. For as touching as it is, especially with the montage of their many moments together after that, Takopi realizes that she never managed to smile wholeheartedly. The episode begins with her allusion to something she’d always wished for, and Takopi understands what: a real peer to communicate with on the same level. And so, with a final act of self-sacrificing Doraemon magic, it resets the world. This new timeline appears very similar, but Takopi’s wish has endured. By being more willing to confront his brother, Naoki is off to a life more of his own, with someone genuinely supporting him. None of the girls’ households has been magically fixed, but right as Marina is about to unleash that violence on Shizuka again, her casual drawing of a weird octopus creature derails the two of them. This may seem minor, but human relationships aren’t all built on monumental achievements that speak about our characters. More often than not, it’ll be an arbitrary shared experience that creates a bond. Less stressed about school results, Naoki accidentally made more friends by mentioning he has a PS4. A round alien that neither girl knows but that feels familiar to both can, with time and the right attitude, shift an abusive relationship into one where each other become the support they need. And so we hit the epilogue, with a hint of their lives as high schoolers. Both are still saddled with problematic households, as the reappearing scar in Marina’s face makes it clear. But now that they have someone they can be frank about and who’ll fully understand their struggles, the atmosphere around them is completely different. Even aspects of them that were once signs of toxic parenting are reframed. The glimpse of Shizuka’s nails and the way she interrupts the conversation because she wants to buy make-up bring her mother to mind, but now that she’s close with Marina, they come across as another point of connection between them; after all, Marina was quite the coquettish child back then. There is a recognizable core to the characters, and sadly, still recognizable problems. But Takopi wants us to believe that they’ll be alright, and I want to believe it. I also want to believe that it’s a yuri anime, though thankfully that’s easy because it’s factual. 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