juushika

Please help me, I am forever so behind on these, & what I do not record I will forget forever.


Time of Eve, anime, 2010
This has an ideal runtime and microformat. The individual vignettes aren't particularly in-depth exploration of speculative concepts/worldbuilding/the laws of robotics; they're equally fueled by pathos and the human condition, so the short episode length gives room to develop those things without allowing them to grow maudlin—a good emotional balance. The effect is cumulative—not especially cleverly so, it's pretty straightforward "interwoven ensemble with overarching character growth," but it's satisfying. I wish this pushed its speculative/robotics elements further, but, frankly, I'm satisfied with the whole thing, it's engaging and evocative and sweet and I sure do like androids.

( Some long Time of Eve thoughts, crossposted from Tumblr. )

A Series of Unfortunate Events, season 1, 2017
I'm surprised to find I enjoyed this more than the book series—and I didn't love the books, but didn't expect them to improve upon adaptation. The weakness of the books is how much depends on the meta-narrative and how little of that there actually is; rewriting it with a better idea of what that narrative will be, and with more outside PoVs, makes it more substantial and creates a better overarching flow. The humor is great, the set design is great, it feels faithful without merely reiterating, a condensed "best of" the atmosphere and themes; a sincere and pleasant surprise. I'm only sad that the second season isn't out yet, because the Quagmire Triplets were always my favorites.

The Great British Bake Off, series 6, 2015
They finally got rid of the awful, belabored pause before weekly reveals! That was the only thing I ever hated about this series, and I'm glad to see it go. This is a weird season: weekly performances are irregular and inconsistent and vaguely underwhelming; the finale is superb. It makes me feel validated in my doubts re: whether the challenges and judging metrics actually reflect the contestants's skills, but whatever: it has solid payoff and this is as charming and pure as ever. What a delightful show.

Arrival, film, 2016, dir. Denis Villeneuve
50% "gosh, the alien/language concept design is good"; 50% "I really just want to read the short story" (so I immediately put the collection on hold). Short fiction adapts so well to film length that it makes me wonder why we insist on adapting novels: the pacing is just right, the speculative and plot elements are just deep enough to thoroughly explore, there's no feeling of being rushed or abridged or shallow. What makes this worthwhile as a film is some of the imagery, alien design (the language really is fantastic), and viewer preconceptions re: flashbacks as narrative device; it's awfully white and straight and boring as a romance, though—underwhelming characters with no particular chemistry, although I like Amy Adams's pale restraint. If I sound critical, I'm not; I thought this was a satisfying as a 2-hour experience.

Interstellar, film, 2014, dir. Christopher Nolan
I have a lot of feelings, and most of them are terror: wormholes! black holes! water planet! time as a dimension! space, just as a thing in general!—I find all this terrifying, in a fascinated by authentically panicky way. The imagery and plot does a solid job of making these concepts comprehensible and still vast (save perhaps for the fourth+ dimension—the imagery there almost works, but it's so emotionally-laden and interpersonal as to, ironically, make it feel localized, small). But Blight-as-worldbuilding is shallow, and a lot of the human element is oppressive and obvious, which deadens things; I wish more of it were on the scale of Dr. Brand's love or the effects of relativity: private motivations for the characters, sincere and intense but with limited effect on the setting or plot. But as a speculative narrative, one within the realm of the plausible but intentionally alien, distant, and awe-inspiring, this is effectively the space version of the disaster porn in a disaster flick—space porn, is that a thing? It's captivating in a nightmareish way, which, I suppose, is exactly what I wanted.

Legend, complete series, 1995
One of Devon's childhood shows, which he got as a birthday present, so we watched it together. It's honestly not as awful as I expected. The frontier setting is less idealized or racist than it could be, but still has a great atmosphere; the character dynamics are hammy but sincerely endearing; the mystery plots are episodic but decently written. Not a new favorite, shows its age, and the mix of tone and science fantasy Western makes it understandably niche, but it exceeded expectations.

Erased (Boku dake ga Inai Machi), anime, 2016, A-1 Pictures
Time-traveler solves the disappearance of a fellow student from his childhood is a deceptively big concept with a deceptively small, interpersonal execution, and the truth is somewhere in between: the speculative elements are scaled down, secondary to the relationships that fuel the plot, but that plot grows increasingly convoluted and suspenseful. It's an ambitious effort, and successful in large part because of the way the many elements balance once another. (And I will never be over that fantastic gimmick with the opening credits.)

Voltron: Legendary Defender, season 1, 2016
I'm surprised by how much I enjoyed this, but it's not perfect. The animation is fantastic, which gives the action and characters so much life; I genuinely love everyone except Lance (I wish the default protagonist weren't the male-gaze asshole) and every inter-character dynamic (even those with Lance). But after the overlong establishing sequences, the plot grows episodic and goes nowhere—it feels like watching any other serial SF show, with predictable premises and storylines. Against that stagnation, the sudden uptick in plot and the ridiculous cliffhanger at the end of the season feel like an insult. But while I normally have a hard time with "made for kids, accessible to all audiences" because I can't switch off my criticism (and can never tolerate comic relief), Voltron engaged me. I'll absolutely watch season 2. (That all said, I could never not laugh at Voltron's cat fists and fuzzy cat slippers and cat hat, I know this is the design Voltron has had forever and that they are being faithful to the source material, it still looks ridiculous, I'm sorry.)

Zootopia, film, 2016, Disney
Charming animation and worldbuilding, great dialog, and I'm a sucker both for mystery plots and cop buddy dynamics. But I'm not sure I loved the themes—"the disenfranchised also foster social unrest/aim to benefit from inequality" is a common trope that creates a false equivalency between the targeted hatred of oppressors and the justified anger of the oppressed, and while I think it's the exact opposite of the film's intended message, it's present and it's gross. This was a fun watching experience, but invites critical viewing it can't stand up to, and left me uneasy.

3%, season 1, 2016
I love survival games and in a similar way understand the appeal of dystopian meritocracies—but I hate the YA tropes/poor writing/unbelievable worldbuilding they tend to come packed in. 3% has pieces of all of that, and yet I sincerely enjoyed it. Television is a better format for this series than a book or film series because there's more room to flesh out the characters without constantly trying to reinvent the plot. That the competitors are 20 years old also helps—it's an appropriate age for the personal growth tropes and some of the interpersonal dramas of the genre, but sheds the adolescent-love-triangle tone. But maybe the best divergence is that there are so many people of color. This is less glamorized than most examples of the genre it hails from, despite maintaining a lot of genre concepts and tropes; I don't think it's necessarily revolutionary, but it's absolutely more successful. I'm glad to see Netflix diversifying the work they produce, and will watch season 2.

Yuri!!! on Ice, anime, 2016, MAPPA
As a sports anime, this isn't groundbreaking; as queer sports anime, it's not ideal representation—but I understand the source of its limitations and I think it navigates genre conventions and "appears subtextual, is actually textual" better than not. It does a lot in little space, with surprisingly clever plotting and details, but what really sold me is the sincerity of the character development and the romance. Yuuri's anxiety and its effects on his performance and interpersonal relationships mimic the emotional dramas of other sports anime, but have a more sincere, sympathetic arc; the central romance engages a number of queerbaiting tropes and then sidesteps them to explore sincere passion and how people build relationships and romantic intimacy. It's really just ... heartening to watch, not super angsty but emotionally accessible. I sincerely enjoyed it.

You're Next, film, 2013, dir. Adam Wingard
I admire this film's dedication—the violence is messy, imperfect, and keenly human; the ruthless body count makes for lively pacing and a dogged gallows humor. But the emotional register is flat. No doubt the estranged family is meant to be obnoxious, but they're still awful to watch; the motivations and reactions to stress are both lackluster. This worked for me up until the kitchen scene deaths, which tip the balance into outright ridiculous—I needed less horror staging and more content. The competent final girl is an interesting play on the trope; otherwise, this isn't interesting at all.

How to Get Away with Murder, season 1, 2014-2015
I kept waiting for this show to disappoint me, and it never did—which says a lot about both its early buildup and its late-game followthrough. HtGAwM shows a commitment to season(/series)-long writing which I rarely see in television, and while it can tend towards the dramatic that still makes for utterly satisfying character and plot arcs. In premise, this reminds me of Donna Tartt's The Secret History (and where the premise is less romanticized and intimate, the authority figure is more directly engaged—a worthwhile trade) with a dash of serial crime; high-stakes social elements played against murder make for rich character drama, supported by the phenomenal casting, particularly Viola Davis; the script is tense and clever, especially the non-linear first half of the season. (It also reminded me of Damages, but it's significantly more fun to watch.) It's obvious, but I adored this.

Creep, film, 2014, dir. Patrick Kack-Brice
Too many jump scares, too early and often, destroy any buildup; but the real drawback is that this is predicated on the belief that we will be surprised, or at least interested, to discover that an affable white male adult would turn out to be dangerous or creepy. The horror elements are so unsuccessful as to be bland, and the aforementioned creep is merely off-putting and never compelling. Give this a miss.

Upstream Color, film, 2013, dir. Shane Carruth
The first third of this film is deeply disquieting and effective; the rest is laborious, steeped in indie cliché—the mumbled dialog, the minimalist aesthetic, the long blank stares, the cryptic and pretentious emotional reactions resting on vaguely sexist gender roles. The concept beneath that is tenuous but interesting, but honestly, who cares: the wrapping leaves too much to be desired.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: Rebellion, anime film, 2013, Shaft
Spoilers, be ye warned. The pacing is all over the place, but it works—and, honestly, that near-idyllic opening is almost as good as the twist that follows. I have mixed feelings about this film: as a continuation, Homura's labyrinth is almost too small and her rewriting is certainly too large. I prefer the former, because PMMM is one part interpersonal and one part apocalyptic, and Homura had the most interpersonal investment and want for exploration/resolution. To end that story on a purely happy ending would have been rewarding, but tonally insincere. To end it instead on such a large, bitter scale is in line with series ethos, but cheapens the phenomenal end of the anime series through sheer redundancy. So much is right, here: the far superior art quality, the fantastic aesthetic, Bebe!!, the reveal of Homura's fate and the worldbuilding that occurs around it, Kyubey's characterization, the emotional release of the aborted Good End. But part of me feels it was unnecessary, no matter how financially sound, to revisit this world.

Guardians of the Galaxy, film, 2014, dir. James Gunn
Oh, Marvel, I am so tired of this setup. Fridging a woman to create backstory, a cast of varied dudes with a token smurfette, a single female evil villain sidekick to counterpoint the smurfette, and pretending that raising an eyebrow in self-aware mockery of your tired tropes erases the fact that you're just ... reiterating tired tropes. Marvel has been wearing on me for a while, and this is a particularly reiterative example. It's still a lot of fun, lively and with a miraculous soundtrack, but that's not enough for me.

Mirai Nikki (Future Diary), anime, 2012, Asread
Oh, the unspeakable degree to which I came to care about this show. It's not unlike Death Note: a high concept, overcomplicated by additional rules, working often to explore but sometimes to overshadow interesting character dynamics; it's too heavy-handed with its psychotic characters and most plot twists exists to create sudden and insubstantial character growth (most especially, the inexplicable fridging of any character who has made a sudden redemption), and its size and complexity run away with themselves. But the Yukki/Yuno dynamic is fascinating. I came to this expecting formative yandere, intriguing in premise but exaggerated in execution—but what makes the show work is Yukki's feelings for Yuno: how swiftly he transitions from taking her as a necessary companion to having feelings for her, despite, even because of, the worst of their situation and her personality. There's a surprising subtlety, and the dynamic is often convincing. Also a slick, clean style with a great run-length. I'll probably read the manga someday, and was unexpectedly satisfied with everything Mirai Nikki had to offer.

Kuroko no Basuke (Kuroko's Basketball), anime, season 2, Production I.G
The pacing and narrative of this season is particularly predictable, but it's worth it finally see more of the generation of miracles. The character arcs are predictable, too, but they're so satisfying that it doesn't matter—Aomine's in particular, but also Kagamine's and, always, Kuroko's. This is the very sportiest of sports anime; it's almost surprising that Kuroko is so ridiculous—the magically developing new skills that are key to each win is particularly tiresome, and exist more to create tension than characters. But under the exaggerated special moves and sports bonding, there's some surprising finesse in the characterization, in Aomine's passion and Kuroko's anger, which I truly enjoy.

Paradise Kiss, film, 2011, dir. Takehiko Shinjo
My life is spent crying because of ParaKiss. This film is probably the worst of the three versions, but I still loved it. Some acting is stiff, the costume and character design are insufficently over the top (Arashi and Miwako, especially); but there's a charm and magic to seeing everything in live action, especially the studio. The manga ending is far superior, but this toned-down version of George works well to deliver a happy ending—and the moments which are most important, at and after the fashion show, are flawless. ParaKiss is one of my favorite stories of all time, and I loved revisiting it.

In Your Eyes, film, 2014, dir. Brin Hill
The premise is engaging and its execution is often successful, thanks in large part to the casting—there's a convincing, lively bond between the protagonists. But their romantic hurdles grow tedious, existing purely for the sake of plot and doing little to progress either characters or relationship. This has the feel of Whedon: missed potential, accessible but unsubstantial high concept, and watchable.

Deadman Wonderland, anime, 2011, studio Manglobe
A lot of high worldbuilding, a lot of cliché characterization, and some loving, creative violence. If you go in for psychopaths and gratuitous violence, there's enough here to keep you entertained—it did me. But Deadman Wonderland cleaves to the standards of its genre to its detriment; the dearth of modulation and creativity render it pointless. Don't waste your time.

Four-Faced Liar, film, 2010, dir. Jacob Chase
The thing is, this isn't awfully unconventional. I love the messiness of the relationships and the refusal of a neat conclusion, but its monogamy and under-explored gender conventions, especially atop the stereotypical roles of the main couple, leave something to be desired. Still, a likable film—a little glib, but engaging and well-intended. It's just not as good as it could be.

In Her Skin, film, 2011, Dir. Simone North
If this didn't seem to have the family's blessing, I'd say this film rides the edge of exploitation: a little too slick, not awfully subtle. The only part which feels underwritten is Caroline Reid Robertson, but Ruth Bradley is phenomenal, knitting together Caroline's fragmented story into a compelling, unsettlingly sympathetic whole. In Her Skin holds interest but never sits easy, and not for the right reasons. The content is discomforting, sure, but the execution is moreso.

Stranger by the Lake/L'inconnu du lac, film, 2014, dir. Alain Guiraudie
Out of curiosity, Franck , what did you expect would happen? I loved this in concept, but less in execution. The dynamic felt splintered: Franck in fear vs. Franck in lust, with not enough to illustrate the fragile and strange bridge between the two. All the rest, I like: the concept is unique, the execution unflinching, and the cast is great. But, despite the premise and loads of sex, this isn't as compelling as it could be.

Fate/Zero
ufotable, Gen Urobuchi, Type-Moon, 2011-12
25 episodes
Seven mages summon seven Heroic Spirits to compete in the 4th Holy Grail war—the prize for which will grant any one wish, no matter how impossible. Emiya Kiritsugu, skilled more in assassinating mages than fighting mage wars, will do anything to win the Grail and fulfill his unlikely wish.

I came to Fate/Zero because fanart told me I would love Ryuunosuke. A serial killer who discovers a purpose for his hobby?—of course I would, and did: his arc is fantastic, and ends perfectly. But in the end, I stayed for the entire cast.

Every single last one of them.

Fate/Zero begins slowly, because it has a large cast and complex premise to introduce. Initially its art is merely average, competent but unremarkable, without much in the way of style. Both pacing and art improve with time—the former when the various battles begin because, despite the fact that they're initially abbreviated into mere teases of forward progress, they're beautifully choreographed action and rich with character interaction, bringing life to the intrigue-rich plot; the latter is a gradual change, but is in evidence as soon as Berserker (a computer animated character within a cell-drawn anime, therefore preternaturally slick and smooth) is introduced. Eventually, the entire cast is distinct, the plot has vast forward momentum, and the art style improves such that the climactic final battle is thoroughly satisfying.

There's a few ways you can work with characters. You can define them, make them distinct and unique. You can develop them, show them progressing through an arc that impacts and changes who they are. You can have them interact with other characters, perhaps in ways that the relationship between characters almost becomes a character itself. Fate/Zero does every single one of these things with almost every single one of its characters—and the one or two dead-end characters at least have the grace to die in ways that develop the rest of the cast. I can't overstate how impressive this is, or how fantastic it is if you're me and you feed on character motivation and character relationships. The four confusingly similar brown/black haired dudes each become real people by the end. The whiny schoolboy in a ridiculous relationship with a burly dude actually drove me to tears. There are multiple strong female characters, one of whom offers up perhaps the creepiest scene I've ever watched*. My favorite character interaction was actually a four-way mess of motivations and desires and rivalries and fascinations**, and was pretty well flawless.

Which is not to say Fate/Zero is that, by any stretch: a slow beginning, initially shallow/cliché characterization, art which never excels, roadbumps in story delivery (worst of which is a long flashback), a bit of characterization by way of women in refrigerators which is handled with comparable grace but remains problematic, all plague it. These weaknesses are generally counterbalanced by the show's various strengths, or at least serve enough of a purpose to excuse them, but they linger.

But I have never cared so much about such a vast cast. It's Durarara!! levels of large-cast mayhem, but (so help me) even more of them are even better realized, and the level of complexity is towering. It's not the sort of attachment that makes you beg for happy endings, which is good: there are few happy endings, here. It's the sort of attachment that makes you want to see everything, good and bad, development and climax, fallout, reactions and changes—because so many lives hang in the balance, and much more than mortality is in jeopardy.

* The end of Irisviel, Jesus me, it's like End of Evangelion just got creepier.

** Gilgamesh/Kirei/Kiritsuju(/Kariya) LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY FEELINGS. No really, if you have read or watched this please let us talk about how this interaction is pretty much the definition of perfect, please.

Gundam 00
Sunrise, Seiji Mizushima, Yosuke Kuroda, 2007-2009
50 episodes
In 2307 A.D., mankind has harnessed solar energy via orbiting solar power collectors and has coalesced into three governing superpowers, but continues to wage zero-sum wars for power and energy. Celestial Being is an private military organization dedicated to ending war by using Gundams to attack aggressors. Gundam 00 is almost exactly what you'd expect it to be, and as such it's quite satisfying. A group of unique young men with a variety of angsty backgrounds (and altogether wonderful character design) gather, using giant mecha (of interesting, but hardly iconic, design) to fight a rebel war for peace. Political machinations, battles, and upgrades abound, balanced by intelligent character development and interactions. A spiritual successor to Gundam Wing, even taking on the same underlying question—is it possible to win peace through war?—Gundam 00 sometimes feels redundant, but for the most part it's a successful, if familiar, iteration of the Gundam series: philosophical, political, character-driven, with mech battles aplenty.

Gundam 00's first season is awash with intriguing gray morality, and the plot (especially in the second half of the season) is smart and unrelenting. The second season has a rocky start and never quite reaches the standard set by the first—in part because increasingly blatant black and white morality strips away much of the intriguing ambiguity, in part because it falls victim to a number of clichés like excessive powerups (where every thing is better than the previous thing, just because they say so) and death fakeouts (where core characters seem to die, but return again to resume the same cycle of battles) which deaden the show's believability and impact. Still, the second season is rich with wonderful character growth and has substantial emotional and psychological impact despite its faults, and the series as a whole comes to a satisfying conclusion. That's what this anime is: it's not quite remarkable, but it throughly meets expectations and it's constantly engaging and enjoyable—which is to say, it is satisfying. Fans of Gundam, in particular Gundam Wing, would do well to give it a try.

Beware spoilers in the comments!

Summer Wars
Madhouse 2009
Directed by Mamoru Hosoda
Math-wiz Kenji is roped into visiting his upperclassman's family home, but when he's there a disaster occurs: an artificial intelligence hacks OZ, an online world which stretches so vast that by controlling it, the A.I. is able to bring the real world to a grinding halt. With the help of his new friends, his classmates, and his math abilities, Kenji must wrestle control of OZ out of the A.I.'s hands.

Summer Wars begins with a clichés aplenty: a smart but socially-inept protagonist caught in an awkward situation with an attractive female classmate. But the film's very first scene is an introduction to the colorful, cartoony, vast world of OZ, and this sets the tone: Summer Wars is not your usual seinen coming of age. Instead it finds character development through a slew of brilliant aspects: a vast and vivid cast, fine emotive animation, a setting which comfortably straddles the minutiae of daily life and the magical, digital world of OZ, and best of all a plot that balances character development against well-paced action. The film is sometimes a little too funny, but that prevents the plot from becoming too dire; similarly OZ is sometimes too cartoony, which while visually striking doesn't make for the most realistic worldwide digital universe. But for the most part, Summer Wars is faultless.

In fact if I had to make one complaint, it's that the film is a little too perfect. Plot points tie together too nicely, everyone does just the right thing at just the right time, the end is too happy—there's a slight excess of good and awesome in the film. Nevermind the digital world that's the setting of half the plot, it's this abundance of perfection that makes the story tend towards unbelievable. I begrudged this not at all while watching, but as the final scene of celebration drew to a close I felt a bit cheated, like it had all been too easy and too neat.

That issue isn't enough to distract from a wonderful film, though. And Summer Wars is: smart, fun, detailed, colorful, imaginative, clever, and altogether wonderful, this is a movie to rouse cheering and a pleasant choked-up feeling. The only version I've been able to find online was fairly low-res and has soft English subtitles over hard Korean subtitles, but if you can put up with those inconveniences I highly recommend you seek out Summer Wars. And if you can't, keep it on your radar: when a clearer sub is available, you will want to see this film.

Ergo Proxy
Manglobe, Shuko Murase, 2006
In the distant future, in the vast wasteland of the world, stands the domed city Romdo, a utopia where humans and androids, called AutoReivs, peacefully coexist under the ever-watchful eye of the ruling government—until some AutoReivs are infected with the Cognito virus and become self-aware. A series of murders results and while investigating them, Inspector Re-l (pronounced Real) Mayer, working alongside her AutoReiv partner Iggy, encounters a mysterious, unbelievably powerful humanoid lifeform called a Proxy. Meanwhile, immigrant Vincent Law, charged with hunting and disposing of infected AutoReivs, flees Romdo for the wastelands beyond, and Cognito-infected child companion AutoReiv Pino follows in his wake. Re-l's investigation leads her in pursuit of Vincent and to a journey where she must discover the truth behind the domed cities, the Proxies, the role of self-awareness, and her own existence.

I have been meaning to write a review of Ergo Proxy since I watched it some months ago. Now, at circle_of_ashes's prompting, I've been reminded to do so. Ergo Proxy is a post-apocalyptic/pre-apocalyptic/post-cyberpunk/steampunk/scifi anime with a slowly-revealing plot and a heavy emphasis on character motivations—almost as hard to categorize as it is to summarize. In many ways it resembles Ghost in the Shell, investigating similar concepts of self-awareness: what makes a human being? at what point does an AI become human? does self-awareness create free-will, or are our actions still predetermined? Ergo Proxy's pre- and post-apocalyptic setting presents issues of self-awareness on both a personal and a global scale. Re-l's journeys within and without Romdo bring her face to face with a number of individuals struggling with issues of self-awareness and freewill: Vincent Law, who is running from his past; Pino, a doll who is becoming a real girl; finally Re-l herself, as she discovers that her family and her past may both have engineered to put her where she stands now. Meanwhile, what Re-l learns about the role of the domed cities and the worlds outside of them puts these personal struggles on a world-wide scale: the whole planet is struggling to balance self-awareness and freewill with safety and fate.

These issues are of course couched in a show entire. The plot unfolds in arcs: at first confusing, then revealing itself, then becoming confusing again as a new layer is drawn. This confuse-and-reveal pattern allows for a number of surreal events (at one point, the entire cast is duplicated; at another, they become lost in a living theme park) that allow for even more introspection into character mindset and motivation, all the while resolving to a more logical science-fiction-based plot. The overarching plot and various themes are balanced against half-hour episodes that are reasonably self-contained, as well as moments of humor, romance, inter-character interaction—all number of little things which make each episode interesting and satisfying, and keep the story and characters grounded despite the reach and gravity of the show's themes. All of this appears in the show's distinctive style, a combination of 2-D and 3-D animation, high-contrast with selective saturation, and somewhat stylized, particularly in the almost-human AutoReivs and Proxies. Character design is distinctive and intentional: Re-l's hair style and eyeshadow, both of which become plot devices, Pino's adorable bunny suit, and most of all Vincent Law, whose narrow eyes widen through the course of the story. The settings and background details are similarly intentional, giving a gritty steampunk/post-cyberpunk detail to the post-apocalyptic world and a deceptive sparsity and shine to the would-be-utopias.

In fewer words, Ergo Proxy is a brilliant show that is both watchable and meaningful, mixing plot and introspection, science and philosophy, localized characters and generalized themes. It has a distinctive, beautiful style, skillful pacing and script, and achieves a great deal in its mere 23 episodes. I would compare it to similar introspective sci-fi anime like Ghost in the Shell and Neon Genesis Evangelion, although it has its own style and flair as well and its own particular answers to the same questions of self-awareness, identity, and freewill. Likewise, I would recommend it just as strongly as I would GitS and Eva—to scifi anime fans, but to others as well. It's unique and may take time to adjust to, but in the end the show's specific style is one of its best features. I'm glad to have seen it and plan to rewatch it—I expect that there is even more depth the second time around.

Chobits: the manga, the anime, and the series in general.
Although it's been some years in the making, I am a huge fan of CLAMP, the creators of Cardcaptor Sakura, Magic Knights Rayearth, and numerous other manga. Chobits is one of my favorite series, but with a male protagonist and as part of the seinen genre, Chobits is different from their usual work. It is also contains more mature content, including references to sex and masturbation, than their usual series. Hideki, the protagonist, is a repeat student studying to retake college entrance exams in Tokyo. Raised on a farm, he is new to the city; he is also a mediocre student, poor, and technologically illiterate. When he finds a beautiful abandoned persocom (the powerful humanoid personal computers of the future) his life changes: Chii, the persocom, has no memory of her past, knows nothing, and appears to run without an operating system. As Hideki lives with and teaches her, it becomes increasingly apparent that Chii is immensely powerful—she may even me a Chobit, persocoms of legend who are, supposedly, capable of independent thought and true emotions. The mysteries around Chii only grow and Hideki and his friends investigate; meanwhile, Chii acts as if she is in love with Hideki and he begins to have unusual, strong feelings for her.

I just finished watching the anime, and I recently reread the manga, so I have some opinions to offer on both and on Chobits as a whole. In general, I absolutely recommend Chobits in any form. It may be a change of pace for CLAMP, but the series is still skillfully done. Characterization is strong throughout, and even minor characters have their own stories and command interest. Love is the subject that CLAMP knows best, and it is a theme throughout the series as Hideki begins to have feelings for Chii and those around him to come to terms with their feelings for friends, family, teachers, lovers, and even persocoms. Interpersonal relationships really are the highlight of the series, the manga in particular: they are emotional, thought-provoking, sweet, romantic, and adorable. The science fiction is secondary to the relationships but still interesting: how the persocoms work and what they can do, but more importantly why they were created and why they look like humans. The final resolution to the series is satisfying, explaining away all confusion without sacrificing characters or personal interest. All in all, the series is enjoyable and skillfully done.

That said, most of the above applies best to the manga, while the anime focuses more on humor, science, and filler. The manga is truly wonderful, one of the best series by CLAMP. I reread it often and enjoy it a lot. The anime pales in comparison, and while not bad in and of itself it is nowhere near as skillful or as enjoyable as the manga. The manga art is detailed, in particular the Gothic Lolita dresses that Chii and her sister wear, and more realistic than most of CLAMP's work, with round eyes, clean lines, and fairly average, normal proportions—some of the detail is, obviously, lost in the transition to anime, but the general style is preserved. While there is humor in the manga, much of it sexual or based on Chii's innocent, uneducated personality, it is minimal and unexaggerated—in the anime, humor is overemphasized, takes up more of the show, and is a much more slapstick and annoying. There is absolutely no filler in the manga, and it instead takes its time with the characters, exploring personalities, glimpsing back stories, and gradually leading up to some sort of love story (platonic, familial, and otherwise). The anime, however, was released alongside the manga and so there are a number of filler episodes between manga publications. Not all of the filler is bad, but is slows the story and leaves less time for the characters and relationships in the long run.

Perhaps the biggest difference between manga and anime is this filler: while the manga moves slowly and steadily through characters, plots, and relationships, the anime alternates between plot episodes (Hideki finds Chii, Chii is kidnapped, etc), relationship episodes (Shimbo and Sensei, Minoru and Yuziki, etc), and filler episodes (recharging persocoms, the trip to the beach, etc). The division of plot, relationship, and filler makes the anime choppy and a bit boring (especially midway through, when there are a number of filler episodes in a row), but the filler provides some interesting insight into persocoms. Hideki, who knows nothing about persocoms or technology, remains largely illiterate throughout the manga and so we never learn how persocoms work, how they recharge, what they can be exposed to, or really anything else scientific or technical. The anime tackles some of these issues in its filler episodes, revealing that persocoms are solar powered and resistant to saltwater (but require some maintenance), for example. For a true Chobits fan, these side details and explanations can be an interesting addition to the Chobits universe. While not as fulfilling as the steady, skillful combination of plot and relationship in the manga, the anime can be a fun side note and minor addition to the series.

In the end, I really do recommend Chobits. It is an interesting change from the sort of work that CLAMP usually produces, a fascinating study of love, and truly a beautiful, adorable, enjoyable series. The manga is much better than the anime: it flows smoothly, builds up to its conclusion very well, and combines serious issues, humor, and romance very evenly. The anime has its moments but functions best as a lighthearted and science-fiction-focused addition to the manga—be aware that the humor is a lot more prevalent and annoying in the anime. There are 8 volumes to the manga and it was released by Tokyopop (in the originally unflopped version with Japanese sound effects and minimal editing). The anime covers 27 episodes, including two summary episodes and one special OVA episode, and is currently available on YouTube through Keiichi Anime Forever.