Den eksepsjonelle veksten av min dress-up kjære/kisekoi sesong 2

Hvis du har tenkt å måle Shinohara, kan den strålende scenen på slutten av episoden være det beste eksemplet på hva han er i stand til denne tiden. Omgitt av ekstroverter i Halloween-festen han er blitt dratt inn i, blir Gojo tvunget til å møte usikkerheten hans; Hører han virkelig med dem, og faktisk tilhører han hvor som helst når interessene hans ikke samsvarer med kjønnsnormer? snarere haruhily ) i bakgrunnen. Og så, etter å ha overgått fra Gojos frykt til en hyggelig følelse av aksept, lar klimaks av sangen henne umiddelbart svinge til et morsomt feilaktig, offentlig spørsmål om de to lederne er sammen med. Velsign deg nå, og velsigne deg Shinohara.

80 kutt rundt karaoke-scenen, inkludert praktisk talt alle utseende av Nowa, ble tegnet av Hirohiko Sukeegawa. Dette er ikke tilfeldig: Han kalte dibs på sin favorittkarakter så mye som mulig, og utvidet sine oppgaver selv utover selve showet. Teamet tillot ham å tegne en hel masse Ekstra ekstra Illustrasjoner For å følge Nowas omslag av rockesanger (hvorfor har hun så god smak?) Over sesong 2, til det punktet at den opprinnelige forfatteren plukket opp sin veldig fokuserte innsats. Og så, mens sesongen var slutt, hun trakk nå i Oshikatsu-modus… Mens vi snakker om klippet ovenfor, føles også måten navnene og aldrene er oppført, som minner om en ikonisk FLCL-scene. Jeg mistenker at en viss assistent seriedirektør kom med denne detaljene.

Akkurat som avslutningen på episoden er utmerket, er det også begynnelsen. Denne strukturen er i utgangspunktet et stort grep etter tilpasningen. Mye av andre sesongens tidlige stadier er bygget på små skift av kildematerialets flyt, og jeg tror at de lyktes med sine mål; Når det gjelder den første episoden, velkommen til å ønske oss velkommen tilbake med noe som omslutter helheten i Kisekois sjarm, i stedet for å fortsette som om ingen pause hadde skjedd. Og så, akkurat som forgjengeren av og til gjorde det, starter sesong 2 med en latterlig morsom sjanger ledet av

Etter hvert som seriens omfang utvides, så gjør disse morsomme kikkene på de-universelle fiksjonsstykkene. De omfatter flere hjørner av Otaku-kartet og blir mer utflettet, spesielt i en tilpasning som forestiller dem lenger enn glimtene i mangaen. Etter Ikarashis penn blir denne mer… alt. Flere. Det er egentlig hvordan Shinohara snakker om kameraten Ikarashi: noen du kan stole på ikke bare for å få det som historiene dine henviser til, men hvem vil overgå deg ved å utvide det lenger. TsuCom er en hardkokt, men likevel klønete serie som skal få deg til å gå grovt, det var morsomt. Scene, det var noen andre som renset det opp i et skikkelig storyboardstoryboard (絵コンテ, Ekonte): Animasjonens tegninger. En serie vanligvis enkle tegninger som fungerer som animes visuelle manus, tegnet på spesielle ark med felt for animasjonskuttnummeret, notater for personalet og de matchende dialoglinjene. Flere. Den samme personen matet ham ideer over hele sesongen, og ble uten tvil den viktigste skyldige for endringen i Kisekois tone. Det er endelig på tide å snakke om fanfavoritt Yuusuke “Nara” Yamamoto , som tok en proaktiv holdning i sin nyervervede rolle som assisterende seriedirektør: (監督, Kantoku): personen som har ansvaret for hele produksjonen, både som en kreativ beslutningstaker og endelig veileder. De overgår resten av personalet og har til slutt det siste ordet. Serier med forskjellige regissører eksisterer imidlertid-sjefsdirektør, assisterende direktør, serieepisode-regissør, alle slags ikke-standardroller. Hierarkiet i disse tilfellene er et tilfelle av saksscenario. Som han bemerker i det nye intervjuet som han deler med sin gode venn og hovedanimatør Naoya Takahashi , varierer omfanget og detaljene om den rollen sterkt avhengig av miljøet og gitt prosjekt. I dette tilfellet var Naras rekkevidde altomfattende på den måten som normalt bare prosjektlederen er; Tilstedeværende så tidlig som manusmøtene, og involvert i valg for episoder der han ikke ble kreditert eksplisitt. Å gi alle så mye engasjement burde ha en effekt, enn si en skaper med en så dristig personlighet som Naras.

I det intervjuet fremhever Takahashi Naras egenskaper som regissør som noe unikt for hans bakgrunn. Jeg vil i stor grad være enig i hans syn på at de, når enestående karakteranimatører går over i regi-roller, de har en tendens til å legge mye vekt på skjønnheten og teknisk lydhet i skudd, autentisiteten til skuespillet og den mekaniske strømmen av storyboards. Dette er selvfølgelig positive egenskaper-og også en side som Nara ikke virkelig har mistet. I prosessen med å skifte roller har han imidlertid blitt en kunstner som er mye mer investert i den enkle ideen om å underholde publikum og overraske dem. Dette er noe fans av Bocchi the Rock virkelig satte pris på, ettersom episodene hans i den første sesongen var blant de minst ortodokse for det som allerede var en eksentrisk komedie. Imidlertid er det verdt å merke seg at ønsket om å fange seerne overrasket med et mangfold av materialer er noe Nara stilte ut på forhånd ( selv i et annerledes Bocchi-show!

Selv om det var solo-nøkkel animert av Kerorira, ble åpningen regissert og storyboarded av Yuki Yonemori. Den sjarmerende integrasjonen av produksjonskreditter fanger øyet, selv om jeg tror hjertet i sekvensen er Vektet som han plasserte på fysisk material. Det er verdt å påpeke at sekvensen låner mange komposisjoner fra Ingen lullaby , en musikkvideo som jeg er sikker på. Jeg tror at måten de blir behandlet på er transformativ og kommer over som et respektfullt nikk, selv om det ville ha sittet bedre med folk hvis de hadde ropt ut det originale teamet. Gitt de uuttalte reglene om eksplisitte omtaler av andre verk, kan ideen ha blitt dessverre skutt ned.

Ikke misforstå meg, men: Kisekoi S2 er unikt vellykket. Selv om jeg tror at Bocchis morsomme kreativitet driver det helt til toppen av Umeharas verk, er det et argument som må fremsettes om den nøye presisjonen-ikke i strid med like livlig en henrettelse-utregning av det meste av Kisekoi S2 gjør det til dette teamets største produksjon. Shinohara selv anser standardene for episoder som sesong 2s premiere for å være overdreven for TV. Han mente ikke bare de mest synlige aspektene som detaljer og polering av karakterkunst, eller til og med graden av artikulering av animasjonen, men også overdådigheten av mellom og maleriet. Den lange tiden som brukes på de tidligere episodene hjelper absolutt, selv om regissøren også påpeker at den høye grunnlinjen for teknisk ferdighet reduserte behovet for gjeninnføring, og dermed gjør den graden av ambisjoner mulig. Kanskje den beste måten å beskrive suksessen på er at det føles som en veldig fint innstilt sesong; En del av den hemmelige vesenet, som han avslørte, et lag så bra at de spikret mange ting først prøver.

at Finesse fører over til den andre episoden av sesongen, som ellers gjør en merkbar tonesving. Et av hovedpoengene du trenger å forstå for å sette pris på den merkbare endringen i smaken mellom Kisekoi-sesonger, er at Nara virkelig var overalt, og tagget sammen med en seriedirektørdirektør: (監督, Kantoku): personen som var ansvarlig for hele produksjonen, både som en kreativ beslutningstaker og endelig veileder. De overgår resten av personalet og har til slutt det siste ordet. Serier med forskjellige regissører eksisterer imidlertid-sjefsdirektør, assisterende direktør, serieepisode-regissør, alle slags ikke-standardroller. Hierarkiet i disse tilfellene er et tilfelle av saksscenario. som var glad for å absorbere ideene sine. Og likevel, akkurat som konsentrasjonen av oksygen i atmosfæren kan svinge, kan også tettheten av skandaløse regissørpartikler (ekte vitenskapelig konsept). De har en tendens til å være på sitt høyeste, selvfølgelig, i episodene som Nara personlig regisserte og storyboardet-noe som betyr nr. 14, #19 og #23.

Etter premieren til å omorganisere hendelser slik at seerne ble ønsket velkommen med en fyldig dose av Kisekoiness, denne oppfølgingen returnerer oss til en adventur We’d-dose. Tilbedreelsene krever taping av to distinkte historier, men Naras levering er så trygg på at du ikke føles som om det ikke var noen klar visjon bak det. Jada, vi bytter fra fortsettelsen av Romcom-takten om hvorvidt de går ut til cosplay og kjønnsfokuserte plotlines, men begge leveres gjennom lignende eklektiske blandinger av stiler.

Nara er alltid villig til å svinge fra Kisekois jordede normalitet til his reminders that animation is composed of assets he can play around with. There’s that familiar sense of comedy built upon quick stylistic shifts whenever he can find a way to sneak it in; changing levels of stylization, of fluidity in the animation, and then subverting your expectations from an entirely new vector when you think you’ve cracked the pattern. Just like the Bocchi anime that episodes like this are so reminiscent of, it’s the consistent sense of surprise that becomes the glue between heterogeneous parts.

Since we talked about the opening sequence, we ought to introduce the ending as well. The closing sequence by VIVINOS is very reminiscent of their Pink Bitch Club series, taking Marin’s crush and her interest in fashion as an excuse to turn her into a bit of a menhera menace.

If we stop and appreciate the once again excellent animation, we can find plenty of examples of seemingly uncanny combinations of ideas leading to a richer outcome. With a director as quick to embrace cartoony aesthetics, you could assume that’s the route it’ll head in whenever there are comedic needs, but Nara successfully guides the team to get mileage out of less common approaches. Like, for example, ever so slightly dialing up the realism to make a sequence more amusing. As an embarrassed Marin storms away from Gojo, the level of lifelike detail in which the folds of his disguise are depicted—a bit exaggerated but not so much that they become a caricature—makes him look much creepier and thus funnier in this context. Even when the application of a style is more orthodox, the ability to alternate between them will keep you constantly engaged. After all, the same visit to a sick Marin can have outstanding examples of precision in animation and inherently funny betrayals of space. In a season with many outrageous visual tricks, even the seemingly more standard sequences can be inherently fun to look at.

One detail we’ve neglected to mention is that all those scenes arrived by the hand of the aforementioned main animator, Naoya Takahashi. Speaking to Newtype, he simplified the evolution of his role as going from a tactically deployed weapon across important moments in the first season, to handling large chunks at a time for the sequel. This is not to say that he no longer handled climactic moments, since we’re talking about an animator with a hand in the very last scene of the season. However, it’s true that he halved his appearances so take he could take over many cuts whenever he showed up as either key animator or supervisor.

Applied to episode #14, that meant drawing key animationKey Animation (原画, genga): These artists draw the pivotal moments within the animation, basically defining the motion without actually completing the cut. The anime industry is known for allowing these individual artists lots of room to express their own style. for virtually every single shot in the first half; the only small exceptions being Odashi and the regular Yohei Yaegashi making cute guest appearances, in rather different ways. Nara is particularly effusive about Takahashi’s mindset, as an animator whose interests are tickled by seemingly troublesome cuts that he’ll complicate even further, but it’s worth noting that the entire second half received the same holistic treatment by Maring Song. Given that its animation demands are just as diverse, the challenge couldn’t have been any easier.

Even with those assistants and the help of a solid lineup of 2nd key animators, having the episode’s two animation directors penning every single cut in the first place is quite the ask. And keep it in mind: it was an ask, not a spur-of-the-moment happening but a foundational idea in planning Kisekoi S2. Those Newtype features confirm as much, saying it was an episode conceived to be animated by a small team. While this one is noteworthy in how far they went with it, the desire to keep animation teams small is a defining trait of Umehara’s production line in recent times. From a creative standpoint, there’s an obvious reason to chase that goal: the natural sense of cohesion and full realization of a better-defined vision that you can get out of small teams. And from a management level, the idea that you may be able to offload this large a workload to just a few people—at least for certain tasks—is a dream come true.

While it’s positive that viewers have started paying attention to the composition of teams (who is part of them, their size, roles, etc), many are a bit too quick to assume that seeing fewer animators credited is immediately a sign of a healthier, straight-up superior production. Instead, they should be asking themselves if such a team was a natural fit for the production circumstances, and whether the level of ambition and quality standards match their possibilities.

Circling back to Kisekoi S2, then, we can say that episodes like this manage to maintain—and occasionally even raise—the project’s already impressive technical floor despite the small team. And what about the larger picture? Did this approach eventually push the production off the rails? Although things got tighter by the end, we can now say that it weathered the storm without requiring the level of unthinkable individual feats that protected the likes of Bocchi. In that regard, it’s worth noting that Kisekoi S2 showed an interesting level of restraint. Small teams of animators, but never as far as this one episode. A mere two episodes with a singular animation director, instead opting for duos as its default. Part of this comes down to the improvement of CloverWorks’ infrastructure (not to be confused with their planning) that we talked about earlier, but it’s also about that evolution in Umehara’s mindset; away from his most aggressive tendencies, less allergic to the concept of compromising, and instead interested in finding ways to minimize the negative effects from that.

It’s another one of Umehara’s favorite weapons that takes over the show with the next episode: character animation ace Tomoki Yoshikawa, who makes his debut as storyboarder and episode director. If his peers viewed Nara as a very entertaining aberration, Yoshikawa embodies straightforward excellence in his breed. As an animator, Yoshikawa’s work feels performed in a way that few artists’ do; so specific in its posing and demeanor that you feel as if the characters were actors who’d just been briefed by the director. And now that he genuinely occupies that position, you get that philosophy applied to an entire episode—often through his own redraws. The way people interact with objects and people’s gestures constantly stand out as deliberate. The way he accomplishes it makes his ostentatious brand of realism not particularly naturalistic, but its technical greatness and sufficient characterfulness justify its braggadocio air. Perhaps this is the horseshoe he shares with Nara: one, a director so imaginative that he gets away with making the artifice painfully obvious, the other, an animator so good at articulating characters that he’s happy with showing you the strings with which he puppeteers them.

Despite yet another charismatic lead artist having a visible impact, Kisekoi S2’s overarching identity is too strong to ever disappear. Instead, what happens is that the two tendencies tend to mix with each other. Yoshikawa’s deliberate acting doesn’t risk coming across as too clinical and serious, as his precise posing occasionally becomes a source of humor as well; for an obvious example, a binoculars-like shot is followed up by the type of silly pose that Marin is likely to adopt when her nerdy side takes over. The switches to blatantly cartoony animation can occur without ditching the calculated staging, and for that matter, without ditching Yoshikawa’s pen either—he personally key animated some of them as well.

The real highlight of the episode, though, is in Amane’s backstory. At this point, it should be obvious that Yoshikawa is more than a cold, technically proficient animation machine. He once again shows that much with a stunning flashback focused on the main duo’s new friend and his encounter with crossplay, which helped him forge an identity he’s finally comfortable with. Through some of the most ethereal drawings in the entire show (many by Yoshikawa himself), we witness his first experiences with makeup, wigs, and dresses. We see neither his face nor reflection, but it quickly becomes obvious that it’s because his past, regular self was one that he’d never been comfortable with. It’s impossible not to feel the contrast with his current persona, highlighted by all the cuts to the present clearly showing a happy face after so much obscuration of his expressions. The Amane of right now, the person cosplaying a female character while hanging out with Marin and Gojo, is the self that he loves and proudly projects outward.

This type of conflict is by no means new to Kisekoi. After all, Gojo’s own insecurities are also rooted in traumatic rejection over his gendered interests; and of course, Marin being a widely beloved, popular girl with some very male-coded hobbies is the flipside to his situation. Up until now, though, none of those situations had been presented in such striking fashion. If we add to that the way that Kisekoi’s exploration of otaku spaces widens—and this is only the beginning—the message of acceptance that had always been attached to the series starts feeling more meaningful.

The following episode ventures further in that regard. Although it’s the first chance for the production to take a bit of a breather, one aspect took a lot of work and it very much shows: the depiction of PrezHost. As is the norm with this season, an in-universe work briefly depicted in the manga becomes a fully fledged production effort within its anime adaptation. The beautiful designs by WEP’s Saki Takahashi and the evocative compositions it dashes out when necessary sell the appeal of the series, though it’s the concept itself that feels most important.

Even though Kisekoi rejects conforming to the preconceptions about what individuals ought to enjoy according to their age or gender, constantly doing so while only ever portraying danseimuke fiction (or types of work otherwise largely tolerated by men) would make its plea for acceptance ring rather hollow. This makes their fancy depiction of a shoujo manga turned popular live-action drama such a great choice, because it feels like it understands what teenage girls and families alike—including some boys, awkward about it they are—would get really into. I have to admit that, given the extremely obvious Ouran vibes of this fake series, I’d have loved to see much more overt mimicry of Takuya Igarashi’s direction; at best, Mamoru Kurosawa’s 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. More and its SHAFT flavor merely evoke vibes that feel like a distant stylistic cousin. That said, beautiful animation dedicated to something that strengthens your whole series’ message is hardly a reason to complain.

Between WEP’s early moments of excellence and his work across the 22/7 short films, Wakabayashi earned himself a reputation as a breathtaking director, the type that invites you into ethereal spaces where mundanity feels divine. Mind you, there is still plenty of room for delicacy and elegance across his boards here. Within an arc that strongly emphasizes collective work and the reliance on everyone’s specific skills, episode #17 allows the fundamentally subdued animation to do the talking; Gojo’s expert movements contrast with Marin’s well-meaning flubs, yet she’s the one who irradiates confidence with her body motion when she’s in her field. The intricacies of seemingly mundane animation tell us a lot, just by swinging from one of Marin’s beastly lunches to Gojo’s delicate eating as drawn by Shinnosuke Ota. Even that otherworldly vibe of Wakabayashi’s direction is channeled through the depiction of light, dyeing the profiles of the lead characters when they’re at their coolest and most reflective.

However, those are merely the gifts that you’ll find hidden within the bushes—or rather, in a very exuberant, colorful jungle. Wakabayashi and episode director Yuichiro Komuro, an acquaintance from WEP who already did solid work in Kisekoi S1, meet this sequel on its own terms. Stronger comedic edge, but also the incorporation of different genres we hadn’t explored before? Playful emphasis on the farcicality of animation assets, as well as a much higher diversity of materials? If that is the game we’re playing now, Wakabayashi will happily join everyone else. And by join, I mean perhaps best them all, with a single scene where Marin squeals about her crush being more densely packed than entire episodes; horror buildup, an imaginative TV set, slick paneling that breaks dimensions and media altogether, and here’s a cute shift in drawing style as a final reward. Wakabayashi may be playing under someone else’s rules, but he’s far from meek in the process. Episode #17 is out and proud about being directed, with more proactive camerawork than some hectic action anime and noticeable transitions with a tangible link to the narrative.

For as much as episodes like this rely on the brilliance of a special director, though, this level of success is only possible in the right environment. This is made clear by one of the quirkiest sequences: the puppet show used for an educational corner about hina dolls. The genesis is within Wakabayashi’s storyboards, but the development into such a joyful, involved process relied on countless other people being just as proactive. For starters, the animation producer who asked about whether that sequence would be drawn or performed in real life, then immediately considered the possibility of the latter when Wakabayashi said it could be fun. There’s Umehara himself, who’d been watching a documentary about puppeteer Haruka Yamada and pitched her name. The process this escalated into involved all sorts of specialists from that field, plus some renowned anime figures; no one better than Bocchi’s director Keiichiro Saito to nail the designs, as dolls are an interest of his and he has lots of experience turning anime characters into amusing real props. Even if you secure a unique talent like Wakabayashi, you can’t take for granted the willingness to go this far, the knowledge about various fields, and of course the time and resources required for these side quests.

And yet, it’s that emphasis on clinical forms of animation that also makes it feel somewhat dispassionate—especially after the playfulness of Wakabayashi’s episode. The delivery is so fancy that it easily passes any coolness test, and it certainly has nuggets of characters as well; watching the shift in Marin’s demeanor when she’s performing makes for a very literal, great example of character acting in animation. But rather than leaning into the fun spirit of a school festival, the direction feels very quiet and subservient to an artist who can lean towards the mechanical. It’s worth noting that the most evocative shots in the entire episode, which break free from its cold restraint, come by the hand of Yusuke Kawakami. Those blues are a reminder of the way he already stole the show once, with that delightful eighth episode of the first season.

Kisekoi S2 is certainly not the type of show to dwell in impassionate technicality for too long, so it immediately takes a swing with another fun episode captained by Nara. A leadership that this time around doesn’t merely involve storyboarding and direction, but even writing the script as well. Given that the animation director is Keito Oda, it ends up becoming quite the preview for the second season of Bocchi that they’re meant to lead together. His touch can be felt through the spacious layoutsLayouts (レイアウト): The drawings where animation is actually born; they expand the usually simple visual ideas from the storyboard into the actual skeleton of animation, detailing both the work of the key animator and the background artists. and the character art itself, with scenes like the one at the karaoke feeling particularly familiar. A noticeably softer feel within a series where the designs normally lean in sharper directions.

Even though Nara mostly plays with regular tools for this episode, the same eclecticism we’ve been praising so far is all over the episode. At no point can you be sure about which technique, palette, and type of stylization he’s going to deploy when depicting Marin’s struggles. This helps spice up an episode that is otherwise a simple breather. Weight gain scenarios in anime rarely lead to a fun time; you don’t have to start considering whether they’re problematic or not to realize that they’re formulaic and repetitive. However, within a show where bodies are meaningfully explored and thanks to Nara’s amusing resourcefulness, it becomes yet another entertaining episode.

Additionally, there is a reason why we said that the director mostly uses regular tools in episode #19. The highlight is a sequence built upon a 3D scan of a real park, in a process that took 9 months to complete. Although there are technical points of friction like Marin’s lack of a projected shadow, this was a tremendous amount of effort applied to a fundamentally compelling idea. Within regular comics, a sudden switch to a series of identical panel shapes feels unnatural. In the context of a series about cosplay, that’s enough to tell that someone is taking photos. But what about anime (and more broadly, film) where the aspect ratio is consistent? A solution can be to reimagine the whole sequence as a combination of behind-the-camera POV and snapshots that don’t reject the continuity.

While on the surface it might seem like a more modest showing, episode #20 is—in conjunction with the next one—a defining moment of Kisekoi S2. Director and storyboarder Yuuki Gotou is still a bit of a rookie in this field, but may prove to be one of the best scouting moves for the team. Alongside the small changes in the script, the direction toys with the themes of the series in a way that casually solidifies the entire cast. Gojo and Marin attend a cosplay event and come across acquaintances, including multiple friend-of-a-friend scenarios. Those involve someone who, in the manga, is merely mentioned as having been too busy to attend. In the end, we don’t know much about her, and she doesn’t even register as a person. What does Gotou’s episode do, though? It transforms the manga’s plain infodumping about cosplay culture into a fake program that stars her as the host, which makes the eventual reveal that she couldn’t show up more amusing and meaningful; now she actually is a person, albeit a pitiful one. The delivery of the episode is enhanced by similar small choices, in a way that is best appreciated if you check it out alongside the source material.

The immediate continuity in the events links that episode to #21, which also underlines the essence of season 2’s success. I’m sure we’ve all witnessed discourse about anime’s self-indulgent focus on otaku culture at some point. The very idea of acknowledging its own quirks and customs is framed as an ontological evil, though really, those complaints amount to little more than cheap shots at easy targets that people can frame as progressive, refined stances. Were they truly that thoughtful about cartoons, people would realize that such anime’s common failing isn’t the awareness and interest in its surrounding culture—it’s the exact opposite. Anime isn’t obsessed with otaku, but rather with going through familiar motions and myopically misrepresenting a culture that is much broader than we often see. Every late-night show that winks at a male audience about tropes they’ll recognize is blissfully unaware of the history of entire genres and demographics; and for that matter, about the ones that it’s supposed to know as well, given how many gamified Narou fantasies fundamentally don’t understand videogames.

Due to Marin’s choices of cosplay and the unbalanced presentation of the first season, Kisekoi risked leaning a bit in that direction as well. But with a series that genuinely wants to engage with the culture it explores, and a team willing to push its ideas even further, that simply couldn’t come to pass. The most amusing example of this across two episodes is Marin’s cosplay friends, as women who feel representative of distinct attitudes seen in female otaku spaces. From the resonant ways in which proactive fandom is linked to creative acts to the jokes they make, there’s something palpably authentic about it. Nerdy women don’t morph into vague fujoshi jokes, but instead showcase highly specific behaviors like seeing eroticism in sports manga that read completely safe to people whose brains aren’t wired the same way. Kisekoi S2 gets a lot of humor out of their exaggerated antics—both #20 and #21 are a riot about this—but these are just one step removed from real nerds you wouldn’t find in many anime that claim to have otaku cred.

This exploration continues with the type of fictional works that motivate their next cosplay projects. Just like PrezHost felt like a spot-on choice for a group of regular teenagers, an indie horror game like Corpse is perfect for this nerdier demographic of young adults and students; if you wanted to maximize the authenticity, it should have been a clone of Identity V as that was a phenomenon among young women, but their slight departure still becomes a believable passion for this group. And most importantly, it looks stunning. Following the trend you’ve heard about over and over, a loosely depicted in-universe game becomes a fully-fledged production effort led by specialists—in this case, pixel artist narume. It’s quite a shame that, no matter how many times I try to access the website they made for the game, it doesn’t become something I can actually play.

The purposeful direction of Haruka Tsuzuki in episode #21 makes it a compelling experience, even beyond its thematic success. Though in a way, its most brilliant scene is still tied to that—Marin’s subjectivity being so clearly depicted is one of the ways in which Kisekoi pushes back against common failings of the genre, after all. When she misunderstands what Gojo is buying, diegetic green lights flash green, like a traffic light signaling his resolve to go ahead. Marin’s panic over the idea of getting physically intimate coincides not just with a camera switch to show an adults-only zone of the store nearby, but also with the lights turning red. She doesn’t exactly feel ready… but the more she thinks about it, the lights switch to pink. If I have to explain what this one means, please go ask your parents instead.

Season 2 thrives because of this broader, deeper depiction of cosplay as an extension of otaku culture. As we mentioned earlier, it makes the message of acceptance feel like it carries much more weight; with a palpable interest in more diverse groups of people, the words of encouragement about finding your passions regardless of what society expects you to do have a stronger impact. Since the preceding season faltered by focusing on arcs where these ideas were still raw, while also introducing biased framing of its own, there’s a temptation to claim that Kisekoi S2 is superior because it stuck to the source material even more. And let’s make it clear: no, it did not. At least, not in those absolute terms.

There is an argument to be made that it better captures the fully-developed philosophy of the source material; the argument is, in fact, this entire write-up. That said, much of our focus has also been on how Shinohara’s desire to increase the expressivity and the arrival of Nara have shifted the whole show toward comedy. Kisekoi has always had a sense of humor, but there’s no denying that this season dials up that aspect way beyond the source material. That has been, as a whole, part of the recipe behind such an excellent season.

And yet, we should also consider the (admittedly rare) occasions where it introduces some friction. If we look back at episode #20, one of the highlights in Gotou’s direction is the goofy first meeting between Akira and Marin. Since we’re taking a retrospective look after the end of the broadcast, there’s no need to hide the truth: Akira has a tremendous crush on her. However, their entire arc is built upon everyone’s assumption that she hates Marin, as she gets tense and quiet whenever they’re together. The manga achieves this through vaguely ominous depictions of Akira, which would normally be read as animosity but still leaves room for the final punchline. The adaptation mostly attempts to do the same… except their first meeting is so comedic, so obvious in the falling-in-love angle, that it’s impossible to buy into the misdirection. Every now and then, it’s in fact possible to be too funny for your own good.

If we’re talking about the relative weaknesses of the season, episode #22 is a good reminder that outrunning the scheduling demons—especially if you enjoy taking up creative strolls to the side—is hard even for blessed projects. Conceptually, it’s as solid as ever. Marin’s sense of personhood remains central to everything, with her own struggles with love and sexuality being as carefully developed (if not more) than anything pertaining to Gojo. Being treated to another showcase of Corpse’s beautiful style is worth the price of admission, and you can once again tell that Fukuda understands nerds as she writes them salivating over newcomers’ opinions on their faves. It is, though, a somewhat rougher animation effort despite all the superstars in various positions of support. While the decline in quality is only relative to the high standards of Kisekoi S2, seeing what caliber of artist it took to accomplish an acceptable result speaks volumes about how tight things got.

Thanks to the small structural changes to the adaptation, this episode is able to reinforce the parallels between Akira’s situation and the world’s most beloved cosplayer Juju-sama (sentence collectively written by Marin and her sister). Sure, Juju’s got a supportive family and has been able to chase her dreams since an earlier age, but there have always been hints that she holds back somewhat. As a cosplayer with utmost respect for the characters, she never dared to attempt outfits where her body type didn’t directly match that of the original. This is why we see similar framing as that of a student Akira, feeling cornered before she stumbled upon a space to be herself. Nara may be an outrageous director, as proven by how quickly he unleashes paper cutout puppets again, but you can see his a subtler type of cheekiness in his storyboards as well; cutting to Juju’s shoes with massive platforms during a conversation about overcoming body types is the type of choice that will make you smile if you notice it.

On top of that thematic tightness and meaningful direction, episode #23 is also an amazing showcase of animation prowess. Separating these aspects doesn’t feel right in the first place; the compelling ideas rely on the author’s knowledge about the specifics of cosplay, which are then delivered through extremely thorough and careful animation. The likes of Odashi and Yuka Yoshikawa shine the best in that regard, though it’s worth noting that the entire episode is brimming with high-quality animation—and most importantly, with respect for the process of creating things as an expression of identity. Be it the Kobayashi-like acting as Juju storms out during a pivotal conversation about that, or a familiar representation of cosplay as a means to reach seemingly impossible goals by Hirotaka Kato, you can never dissociate the episode’s beautiful art from its belief that making things can allow us to be our real selves.

Again, it’s no secret that an episode like #23 was produced under strict time constraints; perhaps not in absolute terms, but very much so when you consider its level of ambition. In the context of not just this series but the production line we’ve been talking about all along, what’s interesting isn’t the achievement itself, but how it relates to an evolution we’ve observed before. Umehara’s more considered stance and CloverWorks’ improving infrastructure have been recurring themes, but there’s been one key piece of information relating to both that we’ve been keeping a secret. For as much as we’ve referred to this team as Umehara’s gang, which it very much is, you may have noticed that earlier we talked about a separate animation producer—the position that Umehara held in previous projects. So, what happened here?

As he has alluded to on Twitter but more extensively talked about in his Newtype interview, Umehara is not just aware of CloverWorks’ changes, but also quite hopeful about its up-and-coming management personnel. In his view, most of them are just one piece of advice away from figuring out the tricks to create excellent work. And yet, being the animation producer, he tends to be too far from the trenches for those less experienced members to come to him for advice… unless things have gotten really dire. That is, to some degree, simply not true; Umehara is too emotionally invested in the creative process to separate himself from it, no matter what his position at the company is. However, it’s correct that production assistants are more likely to go to their immediate superior rather than someone two steps above when they’ve simply got some doubts. And thus, Umehara has been the production desk for Kisekoi S2, whereas Shou Someno has replaced him in the producer chair.

The first-hand advice Umehara has been able to give will surely be meaningful for the careers of multiple production assistants. And just as importantly, Kisekoi S2 has been an excellent lesson for him. Right after the broadcast of episode #23, and even acknowledging the lack of time, Umehara expressed his delight about what the team had accomplished for the one episode where he was not at all involved in the management process. That future he dreamed of, where the quality of his production line’s output could be maintained without his constant presence, has finally come. Chances are that it could have come faster and less painfully if he hadn’t been so afraid of delegation before, if this team’s well-meaning passion had been channeled in more reasonable ways. Whatever the case, this feels like a positive change if we intend to balance excellent quality with healthier environments… as much as you can within the regime of a studio like this, anyway.

Our final stop is an all-hands-on-deck finale, with Shinohara being assisted by multiple regulars on the team. Though they all made it to the goal with no energy to spare, the sheer concentration of exceptional artists elevates the finale to a level where most people would never notice the exhaustion. The character art retains the polish that the first season could only sniff at its best, and the animation is thoroughly entertaining once again; a special shout-out must go to Yusei Koumoto, who made the scene that precedes the reveal about Akira’s real feelings for Marin even funnier than the punchline itself.

More than anything else, though, the finale shines by reaping the rewards of all the great creative choices that the season has made beforehand. In contrast to the manga, where Corpse was drawn normally, having developed a distinct pixel art style for it opens up new doors for the adaptation. The classic practice of recreating iconic visuals and scenes during cosplay photoshoots is much more interesting when we’re directly contrasting two styles, each with its own quirks. The interest in the subject matter feels fully represented in an anime that has gone this far in depicting it, and in the process, likely gotten more viewers interested in cosplay and photographyPhotography (撮影, Satsuei): The marriage of elements produced by different departments into a finished picture, involving filtering to make it more harmonious. A name inherited from the past, when cameras were actually used during this process.. Perhaps, as Kisekoi believes, that might help them establish an identity they’re more comfortable with as well.

Even as someone who enjoyed the series, especially in manga form, the excellence of Kisekoi S2 has been truly shocking. I wouldn’t hesitate to call it the best, most compelling embodiment of the series’ ideas, as the lengths they went to expand on the in-universe works have fueled everything that was already excellent about Kisekoi. It helps, of course, that its 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. has grown alongside the production line, especially with the help of amusing Bocchi refugees. Despite a fair amount of change behind the scenes and the exploration of more complex topics, the team hasn’t forgotten they’re making a romcom—and so, that stronger animation muscle and more refined direction also focus on making the characters cuter than ever. Given that we’re sure to get a sequel that wraps up the series altogether, I can only hope we’re blessed with an adaptation this inspired again. It might not dethrone Kisekoi S2, but if it’s half as good, it’ll already be a remarkable anime.

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