Imagination 2.0 Oshino's gone. And at first it seemed that all the supernatural riddles that had to be solved were gone with him. There were no new five-pound frigid virgins, lustful nerd cats and deadly lesbians. Oshino's gone. However, the monsters did not go away. In the shadows of nuclear-bright urban landscapes hidden a special street magic. And Araragi Koyomi, of course, like any self-respecting, ordinary, unkillable Japanese under-vampire schoolboy, simply attracts unusual situations directly from these shadows. And the most ironic thing is that Araraga has a family.
It would seem that a huge “BOOM!” rumbled, and the recent erotic detective Bakemonogatari, stuffed with non-standard enemies, thoughts and poses of the heroines, collects a huge box office, becomes a hit in his country and adds the studio and the author of the original stars to the track record. The protagonist of Koyomi is now a two-dimensional sex symbol and a model of a real schoolboy. His girlfriends were disassembled for adoration by fetishists of all stripes and ranks. And once again, the touted director gets his first personal project and the opportunity to kill wizard girls in Maho Shojo Madoka Magica. To the heights of such hype to rise, of course, difficult for any project, even the continuation of the original series. And Nisemonogatari successfully merges this goal, delving even further into the mass of dialogue, half of which is such a wild play of words that not every Japanese linguistics professor will understand what 16-year-old virtuosos are talking about there. No name, spoiler. Whatever the phrase is, it's a vulgar subtext. The author of the original already with his pseudonym (nisiOisin) shows what a lover of verbal twists. And with this ability, the plots themselves can be raped. They are still some kind of wrong and structureless, where only one spoonful of action falls on a barrel of pathetic speeches. For a series of cold-blooded declarations of love, there is only one romantic smile.
The thermonuclear bud of Shaft’s visual orgasm, which dissolved completely during the series about the murder of little magical girls, by the time Nisemonogatari was created, began to close again. The irrepressible art eruption, the main feature of Shaft and the director personally, continues to burn the eyes of people who are about to fall into an epileptic seizure with napalm, but this fantasy rage is no longer frightening. And who will judge the creators who have found their perfect style, bringing constant profit, both commercially and aesthetically? Drawing a favorite sura, they issued a secondary series for their level, in which the parody is overwhelmingly self-parody, and the characters are pale copies of the original themselves, exploiting only the most erotic of their features, but what continuation does not suffer from the phrase “the original was better”?
And, in fact, it will be a snobbish nail in the studio cover of the most adequately original Japanese animation. However, not one visual mating alive. Akiyuki Shimbo, the studio's staff director (judging by the abundance of studio projects, it seems that he is the only one at all) is a person, ready to confront such titans of the full meter as Hayao Miyazaki and Makoto Shinkai in intensity of mind and imagination. And the second quality, after his LSD hallucinations, is the highly detailed plots. Mysticism without mysticism, romance without romance. He just sleeps and sees how the sura smoothly and meditatively flows into everyday life. And the sitcom - in sensual eroticism with a rating of 16+. Do not feed him bread, let him slip a black cat into a dark room, which will languidly communicate in pure Japanese, arrange tea ceremonies and cut katana trees in a kimono, telling along the way about the wars of the Heian era.
Nisemonogatari ideologically continues the canvas of his mysterious older sister with a beautiful ponytail, replacing it with a slightly more high-tech and less modest color. The idea of the psychology of monsters among people is replaced by the philosophy of fakes among the same people. And pants easily turn into elegant shorts. Instead of the long, smug tales of psychedelic aloha guy Oshino in a Hawaiian shirt, Kaiki’s now extraordinarily charismatic badgai, who possesses a degree of despondency from Marvin’s robot and publicly admits to being a charlatan. Instead of gods, only their curses. The nuclear mixture of lilac and white gives way to red blood smeared on the unsmiling face of the summer sun. The school detective on the level of confusion reaches the first books about Sherlock Holmes, and the dialogue is pouring incessantly.
There is still no soul on the streets. Empty city, whose inhabitants burned in bright colors and madness clear contrast. Minimalism of computer graphics and the triumph of postmodern ideology. This is a painted theater with stained glass meanings of reassembled family values, decorated with avant-garde paintings and faces. And all the possible dialogue tediousness lies inside the soap bubbles of the imagination of the main Shaftovsky storyteller, flying to a completely unserious and boring height.