Netflix has added some incredible titles to its anime library in recent years. In addition to quintessential series, there is also a substantial amount of originals that are holding their own against titles already well established in the canon. The streaming service took care to introduce a variety of genres: there are plenty of action, comedy, and romance series to choose from. If you are ready to explore even the weirdest corners of Netflix to find binge-worthy content (and you should be), we are here for you.
Below, the Paste writers have cataloged the best anime series on Netflix (starting with our favorites) that are sure to hold the attention of both experienced weeaboos and anime first-timers alike.
By now, most people have at least a cursory awareness of Neon Genesis Evangelion, whether it be from the overwhelming amount of branded merchandise or the consistent references in popular media. But for a show as ingrained in the animation canon as Evangelion, how we discuss it is in constant flux. Initially touted as a meaningful deconstruction of the mecha popularized by Gundam and Macross, the franchise later became bloated and rife with superfluous content much like the melodramas-as-merchandise they lampooned years before.
Nevertheless, Evangelion’s influence is palpable with a cultural overlay that can be seen anywhere from Persona 3 to Gurren Lagann, becoming a phenomenon that seems to exceed the show’s literal text. Much like Star Wars, its original creator Hideaki Anno has lost control of the franchise’s growth and has since augured the end of anime as we know it, once saying Japan’s animation world is “moving by inertia.” — Austin Jones
Shigeo “Mob” Kageyama is a psychic of unquestionable talent. Unfortunately, that’s about all he has going on in the skills department. Based on a web manga by One (One-Punch Man), Mob Psycho 100 is a psychedelic blend of coming-of-age tropes and Ghost Adventures, following Mob as he and his fraudulent mentor, Reigen, solve supernatural problems in Seasoning City. The show’s animation, courtesy of Bones (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, My Hero Academia), maintains film-quality action sequences and a trippy, technicolor style throughout, but what really makes it a cut above the rest is its seemingly forgettable star. Mob starts off as an unremarkable boy who just wants to be normal. His dedication to live every day to the fullest is infectious, and by the end, he’s got a hearty cast of confidants and companions. Mob Psycho 100 might attract you with its wackiness, but its moments of emotional clarity will keep you coming back. —Austin Jones
Based on the long-running manga penned by Makoto Yukimura of Planetes fame, Vinland Saga is a Norse tale told through a humanist lens. It follows Thorfinn, an Icelandic boy living in the early 11th century, who—after enduring a personal tragedy—sets out on a tale of revenge. Or at least, that’s how things initially appear. Despite resembling traditional Scandinavian poems about bloody quests for comeuppance, Thorfinn’s journey is less vainglorious and more tragic. Here warriors aren’t framed as valiant heroes battling for a place in Valhalla, but as sadists and butchers inoculated into a culture of pointless violence. Perhaps the greatest trick this story pulls is that even though it never shies away from human cruelty, it isn’t shot through with cynicism, instead suggesting a better way is just out of reach.
Sure, there is some tonal weirdness in its first season, as it enacts a series of fights that feel less like indictments of bloodshed and more like battle shonen duels between borderline superheroes, but Wit Studio’s animation chops are on such display here that it’s easy to forgive some of the amped-up, meathead shenanigans. And by its second season, these inconsistencies are smoothed over as this story transforms into a full-throated condemnation of the inhumanity of this period, delving into the hardships these characters face due to cruel belief structures and political systems. Between its powerful articulation of its protagonist’s emotional journey and its ability to immerse us in this fraught depiction of Middle Ages Europe, Vinland Saga is a gripping treatise on violence, revenge, and the distant hope for a better world. —Elijah Gonzalez
There are countless shonens (and American TV shows, even) that focus on a group of young characters using supernatural abilities and deductive reasoning to problem solve. Hunter x Hunter is a rare find among this homogeneous archetype because of its attention to detail and emotional investment. This anime is filled with whimsical subplots that don’t always end with a major event, but let you know characters in this world were alive before you started watching them.
Hunter x Hunter begins with Gon Freecss, as he sets out on a journey to become a Hunter. He’s your typical savior-figure protagonist, but fortunately he keeps the annoying, repetitive mantras to himself. His determination to see the best in people becomes a marvel of the series, and his dedication to others drives the plot. He makes friends with a young boy from a family of assassins, and their polarized dynamic creates a connection that makes the series inspiring. The compelling relationship between these two boys demands emotional investment from you. Togashi emphasizes their youth and inexperience by pitting them against much older, more experienced villains, and introduces powerful mentors that help them evolve. He’s meticulous about tailoring his characters’ abilities to their personality, but everyone draws their strength from resolve. The feats of pure determination you’ll witness in this anime will change you.
Togashi has struggled with a medical condition for some years, but he claims the manga is far from over. Hopefully, the remastered anime gets a seventh season soon. —Jarrod Johnson II
Naoki Urasawa is one of the most critically-acclaimed manga writers of his time, adored by the literary community both within and outside of Japan and the author of some of the most densely plotted, character-driven, and experimental manga ever published. So it’s only natural that Monster, Urasawa’s fifth serialized manga and one of his best known outside of Japan, would translate into one of the greatest anime series ever put to the screen. Spanning 74 episodes, the show’s premise unspools in the way only the finest crime-thriller should: patiently, yet purposefully. Dr. Kenzo Tenma’s fall from esteemed brain surgeon to disgraced murder suspect on the run, and his frenzied search for the man who framed him, is a riveting saga from start to finish, darting from one corner of Europe to the next in a deadly contest of wills. If you ever have the chance to watch this series, jump at the opportunity. —Toussaint Egan
For some time, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure has been the anime I turn to when I need some R&R. Not that anything about it, at first glance, is particularly chill—it’s an anime full of men built like classical sculptures arguing as loud as they can over psychic battles they’re having, seemingly in molasses-slow time. What feels like hours encapsulates little more than a minute in JJBA’s universe. JJBA is so much more than that, though; it’s a journey that spans a century and obliterates the rules of how to tell a traditional adventure story, taking liberal inspiration from Indiana Jones, Versace, classic rock and any other fleeting interest of mangaka Hirohiko Araki to make an explosive hodgepodge of fast-paced absurdity, a language you’ll pick up on quickly and soon find cozier than Sailor Moon. There’s a reason JJBA continues to be one of the most influential pieces of media out of the anime world. —Austin Jones
There are plenty of reasons why The Apothecary Diaries is one of the best anime in recent memory, but one of the most straightforward is how good it is at balancing episodic storytelling with its overarching ambitions. Week to week, we watch as our genius apothecary, Maomao, uses her deep knowledge of science and remedies to piece together mysteries within this fictionalized rendition of Ming Dynasty China’s imperial court. These whodunits are deeply entertaining in their own right, detailing complicated conspiracies and alchemic phenomena while offering ample room for our medicinal detective to flex her sharp wit. However, where they gain even more impact is in how these machinations connect to implicit critiques of the power imbalances and misogyny that define this historical setting. For Maomao, cracking these cases is frequently the easy part, and the true difficulty comes from navigating an invisible web of royal court procedure and faux pas that could lead to her getting expelled (or much worse) if she makes even a minor misstep.
But while this setting can be oppressive, the series also highlights how the people trapped in this walled garden carve out little spaces for themselves. Maomao is a lovable medicine goblin and this story is so good at capturing her over-the-top glee at gathering herbs and crafting concoctions (especially poison). We see other people’s passions, wants, and loves—the things that persevere despite these stifling circumstances as Toho and OLM’s consistently beautiful backdrops further put us in this historical moment. —Elijah Gonzalez
Despite a widely celebrated body of work, only a handful of Naoki Urasawa’s beloved manga have made the jump to the small screen. One of these few adaptations is Pluto, a murder-mystery reimagining of the seminal Astro Boy, and the results are dazzling. It follows a detective named Gesicht as he unravels a case that invites questions about the personhood of androids and ties into the scars of an unjustified war. On its face, many of this story’s ideas have been interrogated ad nauseam, stretching as far back as when Asimov first penned the laws of robotics, but where it differs is in its execution. While science fiction can often feel as cold as these machine lifeforms’ chrome exteriors, this tale focuses on the warmth found in the buzzing circuity beneath. In half an episode or less, we’re endeared to the trials and tribulations of seven robots in the crosshairs of a rogue killer as flashbacks reveal a horrible conflict etched into their unchanging digital memories. The winding mystery at the center of the story smartly connects anti-war sentiment and ruminations on artificial consciousness, and while there is a lot to keep track of, the propulsive pacing of Gesicht’s investigation keeps everything focused. It all makes for a beautifully constructed work of sci-fi that, much like the robots at the center of this story, is full of humanity. —Elijah Gonzalez
Over its 25-episode run, Orb: On the Movements of the Earth has taken us across decades and several protagonists, bringing to life heartbreaking sacrifices made in the pursuit of knowledge. Set in an alternate version of Middle Ages Europe, the story follows an eclectic group attempting to prove the heliocentric model as a Catholic Church equivalent threatens to torture and kill those who promote this “heretical” theory. They dedicate their lives towards understanding the cosmos for very different reasons: some are transfixed with scientific truth, while others want to reverse church doctrine that states Earth is the “lowest” realm in the cosmos. But whatever the reason, this band gives everything they have for a future they may never see, capturing the selflessness and bravery of standing against the status quo.
All throughout, the series maintains nuanced perspectives on religion and belief, exploring the sometimes muddy lines between having faith in an unproven scientific theory and believing in the divine as its characters grow in affecting ways that make their fates all the more gutting. Through their struggles, we see both the dangers of striving for knowledge at any cost and also the beauty of one of humankind’s greatest qualities: our curiosity. You probably never thought you’d cry over heliocentrism, but Orb: On the Movements of the Earth may just change that. —Elijah Gonzalez
Considering the abundance of fantasy anime these days, it’s always nice when one has a novel angle, and Delicious in Dungeon’s obsession with cuisine fits the bill. We follow Laois, Marcille, and Chilchuck, three adventurers who resort to cooking dungeon monsters so they can quickly return to the depths and save their companion Falin, who is in danger of being digested by a dragon that swallowed her whole. But despite this seemingly grave premise, the series has a chill vibe, mostly focusing on delicious meals and the hijinks that ensue from their preparation. Studio Trigger’s mouth-watering animation and sharp visual comedy help make each of these dishes appropriately tasty (or alarming), turning this quest into a food travelogue that savors the small details.
And when our crew meets Senshi, a dwarf who’s dedicated his existence to tasting subterranean delicacies, it fully clicks how this fantasy milieu overlaps with cooking: both often rely on an avalanche of factoids about flora and fauna, and the series revels in its tantalizing food lore without feeling over-indulgent. But perhaps what surprised me the most is how these many methodically concocted dinners slowly endear us to this group of adventurers, using the time spent preparing and eating these entrées to fill more than just bellies. It all makes for a story that provides a nice spread of varying genres and tones, offering a fresh spin on stale fantasy tropes in the process. —Elijah Gonzalez
What does it mean to live forever? Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End tackles this question both literally and figuratively as it wrings melancholy out of this high fantasy backdrop. We follow Frieren, a several thousand-year-old elven mage who previously helped defeat the Demon Lord, who struggles with the weight of leaving her companions behind. As she heads off on a new quest with her apprentice, she faces new challenges and reflects on how those closest to her have lived on in those they’ve helped.
As an adaptation, Studio Madhouse, director Keiichirō Saitō, and composer Evan Call come together to realize one of the most aesthetically consistent anime in ages, delivering gorgeous animation and background art that puts as much emphasis on tiny moments of connection as its big battles. It works wonderfully in both modes, delighting in the greens of rolling countryside and pastoral melodies of its score while also delivering duels of earth-shaking magical power. Compared to many modern fantasy anime worlds that feel plucked from undercooked RPGs, this one fleshes out the details to create a living, changing space sculpted by the march of time. And although it’s a story defined by the weight of the past, it still provides levity and charm thanks to its cast of loveable doofuses who I’ll very much miss until we get a new season. Until next time, Frieren. —Elijah Gonzalez
Deftly blending Christie-esque murder mystery with supernatural horror, Mononoke is a psychedelic nightmare. With its memorable animation style mimicking the shadowless ukiyo-e painting style of 17th century Japan, Mononoke revels in maximal beauty and twitchy sound design, but it’s also successful in its emotional endeavors, proving to be more than just a directorial experiment. Mononoke are a type of yokai (a spectrum of beings in Japanese myth ranging from ghosts to demons) that prey on the negative emotions of humans. They serve as an excellent set piece for pulse-pounding psychological horror, being unafraid to delve into exigent thematic territory. Produced by Toei Animation, the show balances the grotesque with the intensely vulnerable with such harmony, often blurring color and lines with hallucinatory flair. For a show about spirits, Mononoke’s core is decidedly human. It’s sure to haunt you for years to come. —Austin Jones
Considering the alarming amount of new anime released every year, some never earn the following they deserve. While it’s beloved in some circles, Den-noh Coil fits this bill. Mitsuo Iso’s directorial debut is part coming-of-age tale, part techno-thriller—a prescient near-future fable that blends its disparate elements and aesthetics with ease. The story takes place in 2026, a time when augmented reality glasses have become a staple of everyday life, as a young girl named Yasako moves to Daikoku City. It’s a scenic town at the crossroads between traditional Japanese culture and the new wave of AR tech, but after befriending some of the local kids and partaking in digital adventures, they begin to unravel the secrets of this place and the grim implications of the new infrastructure that undergirds it.
Of Den-noh Coil’s many accomplishments, perhaps its greatest is how effortlessly it combines genres, mixing The Sandlot-styled kid-hijinks and a compelling slow-burn sci-fi mystery. Here, the lighthearted world of childhood suddenly veers into danger and conspiracies as the narrative explores how new inventions can be used for good or ill. It successfully captures how past and present culture blend, envisioning a near-future Japan where Shinto traditions and landmarks bleed into cyberspace, its version of augmented reality evoking folklore and ghost stories. Beyond its stellar worldbuilding, it also conveys the weight its characters carry, develops their relationships beautifully, and makes cutting arguments about the hubris of irresponsible tech companies. It’s a work with a deeply nuanced view of what the future can bring, an overlooked sci-fi masterpiece that succeeds on all fronts and has only become more relevant with time. —Elijah Gonzalez
Defined by stylish action sequences and a surprisingly affecting central relationship, Dandadan has blasted past its already high expectations with supernatural skill. We follow Momo and Okarun; she was a ghost-believing girl, he was a UFO conspiracy boy. After a dare goes sideways, the two realize they’re both right, and Momo is granted telekinetic abilities while Okarun gains a paranormal power-up that they use to take on extraterrestrials and hostile spirits. While the source material is already very well-regarded, Science Saru has gone positively ballistic with this adaptation, capturing these otherworldly turns with punchy sequences that demonstrate the studio’s trademark creativity. It’s an exceedingly well-directed series, from the high-octane beatdowns to the more grounded will-they-won’t-they shenanigans between our wonderfully dorky leads. These two are just so well characterized, and Momo’s strong sense of justice, quick-thinking, and hilarious fixation on 20th-century Japanese film star Ken Takakura mixes perfectly with Okarun’s kindness, satisfaction with finally making a friend, and alien-obsessed eccentricities. As a result, the series works confidently regardless of whether it’s fixated on first kisses or ghost punching, and it’s all elevated by Science Saru’s eye-catching sense of style. At least so far, Dandadan is out-of-this-world. —Elijah Gonzalez
Over the years, MAPPA has established itself as one of anime’s best animation studios. Since their inception in the early 2010s, they’ve put out some of the most sumptuously animated shows in recent memory, like Shinichiro Watanabe’s Kids on the Slope and Terror in Resonance as well as cult favorites Kakegurui and Yuri on Ice. What makes their work truly shine is the evocative style of movement they manage, giving each of their shows their own visual language that feels sensitive and bodily.
Somehow, their romantic stylings work perfectly for Dorohedoro, which is based on Q Hayashida’s popular manga of the same name. Dorohedoro follows Caiman, an amnesiac cursed with a reptile head living in a nightmarish brutalist cityscape haunted by interdimensional sorcerers. The show is a surreal mixture of high fantasy and grungy sci-fi, reveling in gritty hyperviolence and oafish humor. MAPPA manages to craft something that could easily slide into the low-brow feel beautiful and enchanting. Despite its grotesque bombast, Dorohedoro tells a compelling story of poverty, community, and exploitation. —Austin Jones
Cyberpunk: Edgerunners is an unabashedly juvenile splatterfest, a culmination of Studio Trigger’s ability to produce iconic imagery that elevates familiar genre beats through raw, hyperbolic cuts of animation. While this crime caper may not break from the core issues of its franchise or cyberpunk more broadly, it manages to hit more than a few emotional highs—and look very good in the process. Perhaps most importantly, its chaotic violence delivers heart-wrenching turns as it plays with the fates of its oddly likable cast. There is an authenticity to these characters’ relationships that sells a sense of pathos, and it’s hard not to root for this crew despite all the, you know, murder.
In particular, the burgeoning romance between its central pair, David and Lucy, is given enough texture to feel convincing, making it clear that underneath layers of hard-boiled genre fiction, this is fundamentally a love story that uses the same grandeur of emotion found in its action sequences to deal out brutal twists. And frankly, whenever it goes guns-blazing, it’s hard to look away from its inventive visuals that use exaggerated proportions and bold color combinations to create an escalating sense of spectacle. Edgerunners conveys the tragedy of Night City with crushing grandeur, the type of thing a bleary-eyed protagonist in a cyberpunk novel would watch on a flickering screen at 3 AM. —Elijah Gonzalez
Despite what the marketing suggests, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is not a shot-for-shot remake, but a meta reimagining of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World that tells a (mostly) new story. The result is a delightful animated series that approaches this narrative from a new perspective. Following the movie’s established beats through the first episode (Scott Pilgrim [Michael Cera] must defeat Ramona Flowers’ [Mary Elizabeth Winstead] seven evil exes before he can date her), it doesn’t take long until Scott Pilgrim Takes Off deviates from the tale we know. The main difference is that in this rendition, we largely follow Ramona as she confronts her previous significant others and tries to piece together why events have gone off course. It synthesizes a transmedia whirlwind as it brings back the movie’s cast and evokes the comic’s art style through creative bursts of animation. Most importantly, it retains the underlying tone and messaging of what came before as it successfully reenvisions this story with Ramona at center stage. In the end, it manages to do something tricky, transposing a more than decade-old tune while barely missing a beat. —Elijah Gonzalez
This series is the second chapter of a comedy about a teenage boy born with psychic powers. You might think he uses these powers to make his life glamorous, or that he adheres to a self-righteous covenant to be some masked vigilante, but nah. He just wants to make it home without hearing spoilers for his favorite shows in the minds of his peers. Psychic powers come with their own minute inconveniences, and Kusuo struggles to manage them while keeping his powers a secret from his classmates, who all seem to have a screw loose. The second series revamps the wacky scenarios we loved in the first series, and pushes the envelope further with its six episodes. The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.: Reawakened is a Netflix original, so writers made sure to cater the animation to a broader audience. Creators maintained an exceptional balance between the hyperbolic nature of comedy in Japanese anime and the drier, sarcastic style prevalent in traditional (typically American) sitcoms. The typical Netflix viewer will have no problem laughing along. —Jarrod Johnson II
It’s hard not to be cynical about anime at times—many are so carefully focus-grouped to pander to specific audiences that they can feel clinical in their expression of human emotion, even when they lean on the sentimental. Every once in a while, though, a show comes around that feels genuine in its tenderness and undeniable in its honesty. Kimi ni Todoke is one such show. A romantic comedy in the purest sense, Kimi ni Todoke follows a young girl named Sawako Kuronuma who is feared and ostracized by her classmates because of her resemblance to Sadako from Hideo Nakata’s The Ring. Contrary to her appearance, Sawako is a mild-mannered and gentle person who has a hard time standing up for herself.
After meeting an open-minded boy, Kazehaya, on her first day of high school, Sawako begins a quest to broaden her social prowess My Fair Lady-style. Much like Eliza Doolittle, Sawako becomes an asset of many people’s lives and eventually the object of Kazehaya’s affection. Kimi ni Todoke eschews clichés endemic to most shoujo series and depicts a truly equitable relationship, one built on closeness and genuine feelings as opposed to cheap tricks or contrived storytelling devices. It’s one of anime’s most quintessential romances. —Austin Jones
I said it before, and I’ll say it again: I am genuinely shocked that this reboot of Ranma ½ is so much fun. Much of that enjoyment can be chalked up to MAPPA’s excellent translation of Rumiko Takahashi’s iconic art style, as well as how they successfully bring both lithe martial arts and physical comedy to life. But what I didn’t expect was for the series’ sense of humor to hold up so well, especially considering how much of Takahashi’s work feels very of its time. Just like in the original series, the central premise here is that Ranma and Akane are two martial artists set up in an arranged marriage by their parents—oh, and there’s the whole thing where Ranma recently fell into a magic Chinese hotspring that makes it so whenever they are doused in cold water, they physically transform into a girl. Hijinks ensue.
While I won’t pretend most of the gender stuff here is exceptionally thoughtful, there is occasionally more going on than “Ranma looks like a woman now; isn’t that funny!” For instance, Akane struggles with comparing herself to her more traditionally feminine sister, while Ranma seems to become increasingly comfortable with switching back and forth between presenting as a boy and a girl. And all throughout, whenever a recurring bit is on the verge of getting old, unexpected bursts of absurdity keep things hilarious, like schoolwide melees for Akane’s hand or fated rivals without a sense of direction. Add in the fact this latest adaptation trims down some of the repetition from its source material while seemingly maintaining its most important arcs, and you have the ingredients for a revitalized classic.—Elijah Gonzalez
Mixing sports and romance, Blue Box is a cute genre mash-up that’s only gotten stronger over its 25-episode run. The story follows Taiki, a freshman badminton player, as he begins to fall for the basketball team’s ace, Chinatsu, only for things to get more complicated as unexpected circumstances push them together. One reason this marriage of genres works is because it conveys how Taiki and Chinatsu are brought together by a shared love for sports, each motivating the other to greater heights. The series dives into both characters’ headspaces, capturing their confused emotions and inner conflicts as it fleshes out a love triangle that doesn’t feel contrived. And to top it off, Telecom Animation Film has gone above and beyond with this adaptation, bringing together both sides of this story with kinetic matches and impressively detailed character art that captures each minor swing in these relationships.—Elijah Gonzalez
Directed by Shinichiro Watanabe of Cowboy Bebop fame, Carole & Tuesday is heavily implied to take place in the same universe as Bebop. Despite sharing the Martian setting of Alba City and Watanabe’s outstanding taste in music, however, Carole & Tuesday is a very different show from its noir-tinged action-packed predecessor.
Carole & Tuesday’s story about a refugee and a runaway teaming up to make music together is so sweet and wholesome it could air on the Disney Channel—if the Disney Channel allowed songs comprised of entirely of F-bombs and not-even-in-the-vicinity-of-subtle attacks on America’s treatment of immigrants. Yes, a show whose first major story arc is basically “Martian Idol” ends up turning into one of the most powerful artistic responses to the horrors of the Trump administration. It has the range. —Reuben Baron
To put it lightly, Go Nagai is a man with a reputation. Aside from being one of the forefathers of the “Super Robo”’ subgenre of mecha for his creation Mazinger Z, he is also known for creating works that pushed taboos and prompted the anime industry’s shift from children-oriented fare to darker and more sexually-charged subject matter. Case in point: Devilman. Masaaki Yuasa’s contemporary reprise of Akira Fudo and Ryo Asuka’s “love” story is as orgiastically violent and unflinchingly risqué as Nagai’s original manga, a fitting tribute to both the creator’s oeuvre and the character’s storied legacy. Devilman’s influence can be seen everywhere from the Luciferian beauty of Berserk’s Griffith to the apocalyptic loneliness of Neon Genesis Evangelion. For all these reasons and more, Devilman Crybaby positions itself not only as one of the best series in recent memory, but one that will stand the test of time in the years to come. —Toussaint Egan
Riffs on Cinderella are well-trodden territory, but My Happy Marriage breathes life into this premise through excellent execution, conveying the internal journey of its protagonist through gorgeous animation. Miyo is trapped in an emotionally abusive household until she’s sent away in an arranged marriage to Kiyoka Kudou, a young man who heads a powerful family but commands a sub-par reputation due to his outwardly icy demeanor. But as she gets to know him better, Miyo finds that these appraisals of her betrothed were off-base, and she starts to build a life she thought she could never have. Although you’ve seen this setup and its wicked step-families before, this rendition distinguishes itself with its ability to externalize the inner life of its protagonist, gracefully communicating how her lingering pain starts to dissipate as she’s finally treated like an actual person. Even as the effects of Miyo’s kind but somewhat clumsy husband-to-be are immediately noticeable, her quest for self-acceptance is rocky, capturing the difficulty of overcoming trauma with nuance. While much of this depth doesn’t come across in its supporting cast, who are frequently simplistic or cartoonishly unlikable, their behavior still feels pointed because it ties into implicit critiques of the oppressive family structures that dominate this fantasy-tinged Meiji-era setting. It all culminates in an affecting finale that portrays its protagonist’s quest for belonging with care. —Elijah Gonzalez
Beastars was the best anime to come out of 2019. This may be a controversial take, given that year was marked by sumptuous animation no matter where you looked—from the fluid, ballet-like fights of Demon Slayer and Mob Psycho 100 II to the high-stakes tension of The Promised Neverland and Vinland Saga, it was perhaps my favorite recent year for anime. Yet somehow, despite offerings from Kunihiko Ikuhara and Shinichiro Watanabe, two of my favorite directors (some of their finest work respectively, too), the oddly evocative melodrama of a wolf, rabbit, and deer captured me the most.
If there’s one binding force within the world of Beastars, it’s the imbalanced forms of power between carnivores and herbivores. The story opens with the grisly murder of an alpaca student named Tem. Whether there was a palpable schism before this event between students or not is questionable, but it certainly sets every species off into paranoia. Legoshi, a wolf, is a member of the drama club which has become known for its collaborative and positive body of members ranging from tiny squirrels to hulking tigers. The drama club is the perfect staging for much of the show’s themes—not only do we see the struggles of herbivores, eternally underestimated and living in constant fear of devourment, but we see the prejudices and stereotypes used against carnivores who, for the most part, are incredibly docile and peaceful. —Austin Jones
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