Shelf Life

Heart of Bored

Adolescent love is a difficult thing. It's already a time of awkwardness and social turmoil—adding love into that mix only makes for a time of life I'm sure many adults would sooner rather forget, with the exception of a few who actually managed to navigate those waters with dignity and aplomb. Such is the general setting for Sweet Blue Flowers, a tender but somewhat forced series based on a yuri manga by Takako Shimura. The series stars a fairly large cast of characters, but mostly showcase two childhood friends recently reunited—the outgoing Akira and the sensitive, prone-to-tears Fumi. Even though the girls go to different high schools, the close proximity of the schools gives them the same commute, and allows them to share social lives.

Most of the drama in the series, though, is romantic. We realize early on that Fumi is a lesbian, having first fallen in love with her recently married cousin. Eventually she strikes up a tentative relationship with older classmate Yasuko, the popular older girl who's gifted both in acting and drama. Of course, nothing's that simple in anime—Yasuko is also the object of affection for another gal named Kyoko, who is engaged (by name[?]) to a man, but even Yasuko herself is still in love with a former male teacher, and onwards this web of relationship entanglements go. While the seemingly endless combinations of unrequited loves skews Sweet Blue Flowers towards the more melodramatic side, there are aspects of the series that are still remarkably earnest and genuine. The pangs of love that the characters feel, and their attempts to pick themselves up after heartbreak, hit close to the heart. Also commendable is the series' (albeit half-hearted) effort to address the social stigma of homosexuality; in one scene, Fumi comes out to Akira, and immediately crumples into tears, sobbing, “do you think I'm revolting?” While she has a blessedly strong support group, her crush Yasuko doesn't have the same. When she introduces Fumi to her family as her girlfriend, her sisters wave it off as a passing fad.

Unfortunately, all of these scenes feel watered down by the love triangles (hexangles? heptangles?) It never really feels like enough time is devoted to each character's side of the romance. Still, the emotions are still well-crafted, and easy to relate to: the awkwardness of still having to spend time around a crush who's rejected you, the pain of seeing your crush with someone else, the insecurity that comes with seeing others showering your partner with adoration. All of these fit well into the series without going overboard.

Visually, Sweet Blue Flowers is beautiful, and lends well to the quiet and dreamy atmosphere of the series. The character designs are simple but effective, giving particular attention to the girls' hair. Yasuko's hair is never rumpled without a specific reason; Fumi's braids are given special treatment as a conscious fashion decision, making her more human and relatable. Particularly noteworthy are the backgrounds, which are beautifully painted with soft, muted colors. It gives everything a quiet, idyllic vibe, which matches the mood of the series well.

Sweet Blue Flowers is certainly not for everyone—the series is largely character-driven, and its pacing is a little on the slow side, but because of its romantic entanglements, it's a little more story-heavy than your typical slice-of-life show. For those wanting a series that highlights the ups and downs of awkward teenage love, though, this show hits the spot.[TOP]

While the first thirteen episodes of Toriko largely introduced new characters and set up title character Toriko as this superhuman fighter, the next chunk of episodes starts introducing the main villains. Known as the Gourmet Corps, these bad guys are basically trying to take over the world. Only in the outlandish world of Toriko, that means trying to evolve their powers by going after rare ingredients like the Jewel Meat (a pearl-like chunk of meat that exists inside a giant striped mammoth), or the most delicious ingredient in the world, “God.” Along the way, they cause trouble for Toriko and his buddies, trying to suck him up with oversized mosquito needles, or whatever other crazy power each villain has.

My unbridled enjoyment for this series seems to rest on two things—the sheer ludicrousness of the battles, and the sheer ludicrousness of the make believe food. It's just really fun. I like that one of the heroes has sentient hair that can dive into someone's body and give them microsurgery. I like that Toriko can slice things with his hands. I like that the chef has a magic spice grinder that beams deliciousness out of a robot hand. I like that there's a forest with skyscraper-sized corn that explodes into a shower of popcorn. I like that there's a fish that dissipates into bubbles if you don't eat it on time. These are all things that tickle my imagination bone, and I love the series for it. I know none of the food in this cartoon are real, but I can't help but gawk, wide-eyed, when the introductions talk about seas of red bean paste populated by swimming taiyaki fish, or trees that grow éclairs.

As the series progresses, we also get to see just how great of a team Toriko and chef Komatsu are, and watch their mutual admiration for each other grow. While at the beginning of the show, Komatsu was more of a nuisance tag-a-long, he's developed into a much stronger person, and the dynamic between the two has blossomed into more of a buddy cop duo. With the introduction of the Gourmet Corps, too, comes also longer mini-arcs. Instead of episodic missions, each ingredient quest feels more substantial, and it allows the series to settle into a more comfortable pace.

Toriko is awfully silly and plenty cheesy, but I'm having a really good time with this series. [TOP]