Yata’s 2022 Anime Year In Review / Top 10

Another year of anime in the books, y’all! 2022 was full of teases and delayed gratification—hyped hits of yore received middling continuations, several less than stable productions were forced to hiatus, and the year undoubtedly peaked in its final season, the three leading up to it sorely lacking contenders for all-time great status. But peak it finally did, and now that the end is upon us, it’s about time to give y’all my personal recap, repping every show I checked out, ranging from atrocious one-and-dones to my absolute favorites.

Not much change in the layout this time; I’ll start by listing some of the easiest drops, work my way up to ones I wouldn’t have minded continuing under better circumstances, then hop into what I did finish, from regrettable letdowns I wish I let go of earlier to honorable mentions that barely missed my top ten. Those ten studded titles have earned their own blurbs as a longer pitch to sell you on their strengths, and in between the two halves of the list, I’ll also mention any anime films I saw which received a screening or streamable release in the U.S. in 2022 (though they may have premiered abroad earlier than this year).

The tier titles this time are quotes courtesy of Brian David Gilbert, whose videos I have binged to keep me sane over the last month or two. They’re just what were freshest on my mind—and many of them fit what’s coming uncomfortably well.

Without further ado, here’s my anime recap of 2022:


DROPPED SHOWS

I DIDN’T KNOW THAT YOU COULD THROW A DART SO MANY DANG WAYS


With all due respect to isekai defenders everywhere, the worldbuilding mechanics it hinges upon have—like many of its protagonists—been retooled to death. Save for some extreme cases, I’m pretty burnt out on the genre, and that’s bad news for me, as it’s still the lowest common denominator of anime adaptations these days. Sturgeon’s law suggests that 90% of everything is crap. Bearing this in mind, not all of the isekai I’m about to list were reprehensible, but given their over-saturation of the market, none of them were novel enough to compel me to stick around for more than one episode. In rough order from least to most tolerable, give it up for yet another indistinguishable dump of bottom barrel-scraping “reincarnated in a fantasy world” fodder:

STEP 1E: FEAR


When it comes to isekai, you broadly know what pros and cons you’re gonna get, but that genre holds no monopoly over contention for the Worst Anime of the Year. Worse than merely underwhelming, this next batch of shows burst out of the gates kicking and screaming with red flags, eager to test my good faith. Their respective pilots could not end soon enough. They made me question why I’m so generous with the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps I just fear missing out on unpolished gems by being closed-minded. Alas, gems these were not, and there are only so many ways to polish a turd.

Beast Tamer is a generic fantasy anime with a dumb as rocks cat girl as its only perk. Immoral Guild is its ecchi-committed counterpart. Love Flops is a pervy harem defined by tremendously tasteless gags. Engage Kiss is kind of like that except also an action shounen. Love of Kill is a developmentally bankrupt spy romance with unflattering leads. Tomodachi Game is an angsty battle royale fling about money, meaning it’s twice as intolerable as the rest of its ilk. Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer is a downright incompetent production that somehow reanimated a popular 2000s manga into a dated, brain-dead corpse. Don’t Hurt Me, My Healer has one single joke in its arsenal, and it is never once actually funny. RPG Real Estate is a twee title that can’t decide if leering at children is okay or not. Last but not least, The Little Lies We All Tell is a schoolyard comedy whose elbows and jabs all fall flat. These shows were agonizing to sit through for even one episode. Do not watch them. The consequences are dire.

I DON’T SLEEP ANYMORE! I JUST TH-TH–̸͎̗͐̀̊͒̌́̒̓͌̓͗̕-̶̡̯̒̂̓̓́̃̌͋͊̿͒̑͐͝͝ͅ-̴̡̹̲̯̳̼̟͍̼͙̋̈́̇͋̓͌͗́̊̇͒͜͝-̸̡̜̰̫̜̿̀̏́͊̎̉̈́̆̚-̵̪̗͓̱̖̬͐̇͛̾-̸͎̗͐̀̊͒̌́̒̓͌̓͗̕-̶̡̯̒̂̓̓́̃̌͋͊̿͒̑͐͝͝ͅ-̴̡̹̲̯̳̼̟͍̼͙̋̈́̇͋̓͌͗́̊̇͒͜͝-̸̡̜̰̫̜̿̀̏́͊̎̉̈́̆̚-̵̪̗͓̱̖̬͐̇͛̾-̸͎̗͐̀̊͒̌́̒̓͌̓͗̕-̶̡̯̒̂̓̓́̃̌͋͊̿͒̑͐͝͝ͅ-̴̡̹̲̯̳̼̟͍̼͙̋̈́̇͋̓͌͗́̊̇͒͜͝-̸̡̜̰̫̜̿̀̏́͊̎̉̈́̆̚-̵̪̗͓̱̖̬͐̇͛̾


Fortunately, not every anime I promptly drop is notoriously awful. In fact, most are just indistinct, monotonous, or too sloppily assembled to invest any trust in. That’s the case with this next bunch.

Some had an impossible uphill battle, such as the three-minute short series Onipan, the ineptly animated horse-riding series Fanfare of Adolescence, the Grimoire of Zero sequel The Dawn of the Witch, or the SHAFT-ified, past its prime RWBY reboot Ice Queendom. Speaking of unnecessary adaptations, Legend of Mana: The Teardrop Crystal was another under-baked moot point, this time lifted from a late 90s RPG, while I’m Quitting Heroing and The Genius Prince’s Guide to Raising a Nation Out of Debt had slightly more bearable (albeit forgettable) takes on fantasy wunderkind tropes. The Strongest Sage With the Weakest Crest notably pulled off a reincarnation plot without going to another world, though nothing about its cast interested me beyond that. Smile of the Arsnotoria is…something, though I genuinely don’t understand what its scatterbrained tone was going for. Miss Kuroitsu from the Monster Development Department had a better hook in abstract but flopped in execution, while Miss Shachiku and the Little Baby Ghost had a genuinely fun hook for its first few minutes, only for tedium to swiftly set in. Tokyo 24th Ward squirmed through a lengthy premiere in an identity crisis, while Futsal Boys knew what it wanted to be but still couldn’t make its players remotely intriguing. On the other hand, Extreme Hearts had…heart, but no visual draw to back up its idols-turned-super-atheletes premise. Tribe Nine’s cyberpunk baseball shtick contained plenty of personality too, but its aesthetic execution was a cluttered mess. Do you love cluttered messes? There’s more comin’! Why don’t you join me? Why don’t you join me? Why don’t you-

zjierbness


Zjierbness, for those not in the know, is the feeling when you bite into a pickle and it’s a little squishier than expected. These shows are like that: edible, impression-leaving, but not satiating enough to keep chomping.

Continuing on the sports front, there’s Blue Lock, a tournament to be soccer’s best Great Man, Aoashi, a more conventional soccer anime, Love All Play, a generic badminton anime (where is my grounded contemporary motorsports anime? Y’all have practically done any sport but it at this point), and Dance Dance Danseur, a well-animated ballet production I just had no interest in whatsoever.

Rom-coms? We’ve got rom-coms in zjierbville, too; Urusei Yatsura (2022) is the most infamous, as the reboot’s humor aged poorly and longtime fans would rather stand by the original series, not this one’s selective fresh coat of paint. More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers is one of those coerced cohabitation romances, proving that even in death, ol’ Shinzo won’t let us forget about Japan’s population “problem.” My Stepmom’s Daughter is My Ex should be a juicy riot, but it’s bland as hell. Ditto for A Couple of Cuckoos, which for better or worse lives up to its reputation as “the most harem harem to ever harem.” Romantic Killer had a decent idea but entered the conversation with too little substance too late, and Shikimori’s Not Just a Cutie’s source material couldn’t live up to the hype and loving care its adaptation visually received—good sakuga linked to snoozefest writing is a heartbreaking combination.

No category is complete without its token fantasy-land bullshit, so here’s this tier’s: Management of a Novice Alchemist had itself a pleasantly dull, no-bite premiere. The Maid I Hired Recently Is Mysterious should’ve turned out the shota crowd, but not even they seemed particularly tickled by it. I’m the Villainess, So I’m Taming the Final Boss was a dramatic step above most of the other isekai I panned, but it still didn’t entice me enough to see it through. Bibliophile Princess asked “what if we gave the most unexciting, pampered princess a whole show to be bored in?” and walked away with a check, so congrats, I guess? Luminous Witches and its unlucky wartime misfits almost hooked me, only to discover it’s a Strike Witches spin-off, and I wasn’t about to take on that burden by myself.

Odd ones out include Shinobi no Ittoki, which is about a ninja clan heir who didn’t know ninjas existed. I couldn’t tell if its pilot was self-aware, and I didn’t want to ruin the illusion of intent by finding out. In The Heart of Kunoichi Tsubaki is about a very different sort of ninja clan in that they mostly pretend men are exotic freaks. Not much to work with there, and it’s seedier yet due to its infantilizing character designs and twerpy humor. In that same vein, Akebi’s Sailor Uniform was seemingly a show about nothing, defined by its knack for really pretty animation and really ugly shot framing—sexualizing middle schoolers gets a hard pass from me pretty much every time.

Prima Doll was Violet Evergarden but cuter, lighter, and less attention-grabbing. Healer Girl was some pseudo-scientific malarkey about girls singing away people’s ailments. Shine Post was an idol anime. That’s all I gathered from it. It exists. Teppen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Laughing ’till You Cry is about a tournament of manzai comedy acts. As with most jokes, it’s probably funniest without explanation, but the language barrier seemed too cumbersome to overlook. The Yakuza’s Guide to Babysitting is what it proclaimed on the tin (and also thoroughly unremarkable). And finally, Shine On! Bakumatsu Bad Boys was a stylish, cartoony shounen about a niche period of Japanese history. We’re almost through these drops. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

AND THEN THERE’S THE EXPERIENCE OF ZEN


You ever see those premieres where you’re like “hmm, yeah, this is definitely watchable. Do I really have the time to justify one more filler show on the watchlist, though?” These are those shows. None of them were such hot topics I would’ve been spoiled about them by not watching them weekly, and as such I can return to them in the future if I feel so inclined. That relief is a wonderful thing. If you have no reason to wait, though, go ahead and pick your poison:

Fan of Chinese court politics and magical shenanigans? Raven of the Inner Palace has you covered. Into tanuki and rakugo? My Master Has No Tail exists solely to please you. Want Souichirou Yamamoto’s second-best title to get an anime? When Will Ayumu Make His Move? finally did, congratulations. Need an idol show where the lead is a friendly ghost taking over the body of a jaded hack? Phantom of the Idol, ba-bam. Rom-com between an aloof shawty and a stoic beefcake? Aharen-san wa Hakarenai. Rom-dram between a dude and the dude reading this? Sasaki and Miyano. Laid-Back Camp and Diary of Our Days at the Breakwater Lite? Hoorah, Slow Loop fills that gap. An isekai that had like, hooks, and character development, and didn’t make my Twitter timeline hate it by season’s end? The Executioner and Her Way of Life. Humbly delivered family work/home drama? Deaimon: Recipe For Happiness is for you. Something from Shounen Jump? My Hero Academia S6 is here now and forever. What’s the rush?

Now, on to the…

MOVIES

OH-HO-HO, OKAY, THAT GOES IN THE SPECIAL TIER


Well, before I get to my completed shows, I’d be remiss to not highlight how I spent the last two weeks of my year: binging all the recent ani-flicks I could get my digital hands on. A reminder: some of these debuted at film festivals or in Japan before this year, but they’re still eligible as long as they weren’t released for streaming or multi-theater screening in the U.S. until 2022. Thanks to pandemic-related delays, this year had a higher volume of them than normal.

Some of the biggest names in the industry were attached to flops: BELLE is easily Mamoru Hosoda’s worst hit to date, a floundering mess of re-hashed tropes that fails to say anything coherent about online harassment and goes to extreme lengths in the final act to try making up for it. Bubble, led by a teenage boy’s dream team in Tetsuro Araki, Gen Urobuchi, Takeshi Obata, and Hiroyuki Sawano, was ironically teethless, indecisive about how to coalesce its hardcore parkour opening act with a “The Shape of Water for kids” subplot. Knights of Sidonia: Love Woven in the Stars went in one eyeball and out the other, but as the resolution to two seasons of hot and cold harem space opera hijinks, that was to be expected. And Sing a Bit of Harmony, by Time of Eve and Patema Inverted’s Yasuhiro Yoshiura, channeled too optimistic a view of AI for me to buy into, even if its cheery robotic lead invited several comparisons to Vivy and wisecracks that a second software update would hit the tower.

I entered the next four films with no expectations and aptly received a mix of tittilation and disappointment. The House of the Lost on the Cape has the makings of a touching found family drama, a kindly grandmother and various youkai taking in an orphan and runaway after a tsunami, but its drab, stiff production did a number on its ability to captivate. The Deer King was also too dingy for its own good, though its folksy war epic was largely fine on paper, roping likely enemies—a doctor, an assassin, and an insurrectionist—together to overturn a biological warfare directive. Goodbye, Don Glees! was textbook “teenage dudes being bros” energy, elevated by beautiful scenery yet diluted by a trite twist of the dull-edged knife. And Pompo the Cinéphile won the battle but not the war, providing a quirky, expedient, and lively flick about a group of film-makers at the cost of saying anything profound about film-making.

Movies I’d categorize as great were few and far between this year, but Drifting Home got closer than most, following a group of bickering kids as they find themselves alone at sea in a condemned, floating apartment complex, resistant to getting over their personal baggage. A gratuitously elongated second half puts a slight damper on the adventure, but by and large, Studio Colorido did their thing and it worked for me once again; I have a soft spot for ‘em. Fortune Favors Lady Nikuko was a pleasant surprise, too. Essentially a string of slice of life vignettes strung together, the film mainly follows the daughter of its titular character, winding around notions of embarrassment and suppressed guilt to arrive at a much warmer, more inclusive conclusion. Inu-Oh should need no introduction—Masaaki Yuasa’s team at Science SARU casually asked “hey, what if rock ‘n’ roll was actually invented in 1300s Japan?” and where they went with the idea is so endearingly, boldly, triumphantly extra you’d need a heart of stone to shrug it off. Finally, the Laid-Back Camp Movie was cozy, post-timeskip bliss, allowing us to witness the cast from the series as enterprising young adults, their companionship and passion for the outdoors alive and well.

COMPLETED (OR CAUGHT-UP, STILL AIRING) SHOWS

I’VE TIED MYSELF INEXORABLY TO THIS ROCK SO I GUESS I WILL BE TREATING MYSELF BAD FOR NOW


The sunk cost fallacy is real, brutal, and there is no immunization for it. I have no justification for finishing any of these shows. Sure, at one point they may have been dashing fun—Uncle From Another World’s source material apparently fell from grace the same time its adaptation’s production did, or so I’m led to believe by its skeevy groan-inducing return. Summer Time Rendering was eventually bound for the discard pile too, but its first half’s writing was sharp enough to convince me to stick around through a prolonged and punctured homestretch.

Ranking of Kings was arguably the biggest disappointment, dragging what was once a seasonal highlight through the mud, bungled character arcs and condescending conclusions in tow. Lacking its storybook facade, Yurei Deco suggested it too might feature commentary worth hearing, but by the midway point none of its characters were convincing enough mouthpieces for its thoughts on social media and technological omnipotence to land.

On the other hand, some of these were bound to be nothing but a silly time, and I got what I wanted: Vermeil in Gold was never going to be a top dog, but its lead couple met the bare minimum of charm I’d told myself was worth seeing through, and so I did. I let Arknights: Prelude to Dawn string me along, too; gacha adaptations mean next to nothing when you don’t play gacha, but I’ve been assured bearing this universally-critiqued opening act will pay dividends, so through its cinematic atmosphere and mixed metaphors I trekked, coming out the other side with no attachment to any character and a sigh of relief that the supposed worst is over.

The Orbital Children, though? Elon Musk probably loves The Orbital Children. It’s starry-eyed, waffling, big tech propaganda, and it’s hot garbage so outrageously hackneyed in its presentation I actually felt charmed by its antagonists and sideline dunces instead of its heroes. Even worse, the post-apocalyptic “last penis on Earth” backdrop to World’s End Harem took farcical enjoyment to nearly un-precedented levels. I laughed often, but you should not watch it. If winter 2022 weren’t so devoid of content, I likely wouldn’t have myself. Future me knows better; listen to him.

YOU’LL GET IT THROUGH CONTEXT


Really, do as I say, not as I do. While you’re at it, you shouldn’t watch the following shows unless you’ve seen their respective first seasons, and even then some of them just aren’t worth continuing. Case in point: all The Devil is a Part-Timer S2 demonstrated is that sometimes shows don’t resume for nearly a decade not because the demand wasn’t there, but because the latter material isn’t a fulfilling use of anyone’s time. That shit spun its wheels to an absurd degree, as did The Case Study of Vanitas S2, which was actually more insulting, seeing as it had just presented a decent enough first season half a year prior.

The rest of these aren’t as much of a letdown, just less my cup of tea. Kakegurui Twin was a prequel spin-off of Kakegurui, if you’re into its horny parlor tricks and rigged gambling games. Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club S2 was more Love Live, if you’re into that (overshadowed by an even better sequel which aired the following season—stay tuned). Princess Connect! Re:Dive S2 was satisfying enough, though I wasn’t all that enamored with its first season and I mainly stuck around solely because fuck all else had animation prettier than it last winter. And Komi Can’t Communicate S2 arguably improved on its prior season, but more of the same drove home how the series’ trope-based character writing is prone to huge swings and misses.

I GOT TWO OF ‘EM, ‘CAUSE OF…CIRCUMSTANCES


Seeing as that last category was already getting tight, I felt it necessary to further subdivide the sequels tier. A few even better ones lay ahead—some made it into or just barely missed my top ten—but these ones are neither as resounding as those nor as irrelevant as the prior batch.

Granted one of them is only half over, and not by design—Golden Kamuy S4 hit production snags citing the death of an undisclosed “key staff member” and won’t return from its interrupted run until spring 2023. What we got was decent enough, though; trusty material is hard to botch. Ascendance of a Bookworm S3 knows as much, laudably nudging that series’ bespoke medieval politicking along, while 86 Part 2 returned from a hiatus at the start of the year to air its final two episodes (bearing huge improvements over the rest of its season’s production) last March. Overdue? Yes. Worth the wait? Absolutely.

Love Live! Superstar S2 doubled its cast size, but its comedic flair remained steady despite the new additions and even fleshed out some existing weak links. I can’t wrap my head around why Superstar is one of the least revered entries in the Love Live-iverse, but whatever, their production committees sure don’t seem to be playing favorites. I do, though, and that tempered my expectations for Rent-A-Girlfriend S2, which I found less snappy and chaotically smarmy than its first season, even if Good Bad content is still Good, Badly. Shadows House S2 didn’t have to worry about underselling itself, even if I likewise found its first season more invigorating. This one was less mythic, more investigative, and my reduced fervor comes down to a matter of taste—the material itself and what it means for the ongoing plot were still sufficiently immersive.

THOSE PUPPIES NEW?


Alright, enough sequel talk: here’s the middle tier for new productions. The Girl From The Other Side was a neat, artsy OVA adapted from a beloved manga, though due to time constraints, most of its lore was scrapped. As a window into its universe, it did the trick—I might check out the full story in its original medium one of these days. Play It Cool, Guys is arguably limited by its runtime of 8-minute episodes as well, though I find its cast of suave klutzes a little shallow and thus easiest to enjoy in small doses, so no hard feelings there. Heroines Run The Show’s side cast was pretty shallow too, but its lead Hiyori single-handedly angled it into a charming school and workplace drama.

Focusing on a narrower playing field and weirder worldbuilding, Sabikui Bisco is the year’s action/adventure dark horse. If “The War on Drugs, but Anime” had any base appeal, it might not need Bisco‘s surreal mushroom terrorism to kick it up a notch, but it just works—it’s a wild ride. In that spirit, I’ve been told it’s difficult to predict how any Gundam title will play its hand, but Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury has walked a comfortable line between corny business antics and Utena-esque anti-chauvinism. It’s not been a firm favorite of mine so far, but the fan art is based and the groupwatches my crew holds for its new episodes sure are entertaining. Its best days appear to be ahead, while I fear Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story’s peak is behind it, with an abrupt change of scenery backpedaling the unparalleled camp of its first half’s approach to [checks notes] underground mafia golf? Yeah, that opening arc is something to behold. Its second half? Less so, but it hasn’t bombed disastrously either. Fingers crossed its incoming sequel regains some of its earlier carefree abandon.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

LOOK AT YOU, YOU’RE A NATURAL!


One tier to go means it’s Honorable Mentions time. Do It Yourself should be fresh on people’s minds; the easygoing series about a construction club may not have had that special oomph in its entirety, but when it did, it glowed. Boasting some of the best character designs of the year didn’t hurt either.

Life With an Ordinary Guy Who Reincarnated Into a Total Fantasy Knockout (endearingly known in my circles as Fantasy Bantasy) might be a bit harder to remember by name, but it’s far and away the funniest conventional isekai to air this year, starring two overpowered chuds who can’t acknowledge they love each other. Some were wary its leads (one of whom is a dude spirited into a girl’s body during their reincarnation) would echo transphobic sentiments, but virtually every queer person I know who watched it found it hilarious. Take their recommendations as you will.

Love After World Domination also features two overpowered leads, but in this title they’re supposed to be institutional enemies. The series is effectively a spoof of super sentai syndicate stuff, with a genuinely witty and well-produced mix of romance and action tropes breathing fresh air into a wishy-washy premise.

Vampire in the Garden is even more obscure; with little to no press (thanks, Netflix!), this five-episode ONA is an overlooked, thrilling chase to the horizon. Two deserters try escaping the war between their races, but tragedy and deception befall them at every turn. It’s bleak, a little predictable, and things get gruesome by the end, but it swept me along with a ton of conviction and surprisingly adept direction. Giving it a late-year long shot was worth the time.

The more famous stuff came closest to sneaking into the top ten, though; Lycoris Recoil was the community hit of the summer, and while its broader talking points played second fiddle to the character dynamics cheerfully guiding its secret police narrative along, it wound up all the better for prioritizing the fluff.

Teasing Master Takagi-san S3 ushered its series out in style with a more diverse delivery of psych-outs and punchlines than its previous two seasons. Mob Psycho 100 III, on the other hand, ended its franchise with a step down from its peak material, but it still maintained a graceful through-line of quality surpassing almost every sequel previously listed, and it delivered some banger one-off episodes in the process.

The closest call of them all, Made in Abyss: The Golden City of the Scorching Sun, made the series’ prior controversies look like child’s play—this second season was Abyss’ first long-term interrogation of setting, and it was as grotesque as it was bizarrely uplifting, masterfully intertwining the main trio’s adventure with the soon-to-be thwarted stasis of a full-fledged society deep in the pit. Even at its weirdest (and that’s saying something if you’ve seen any of its prior content), Abyss’ hope and perseverance resonate.

And now, the section you’ve all been waiting for…

THE TOP 10

HOW DO THEY DO WHAT THEY WANT AND LOOK PLANNED?
I COME TO YOU NOW, MY HAT IN MY HAND

Streaming, licensing, and English dub information should all be accurate for U.S. viewers as of late December 2022, though future readers should bear in mind they’re region-dependent and subject to change.

#10 – CHAINSAW MAN


Studio: MAPPA  |  Director: Ryuu Nakayama  |  Writer: Hiroshi Seko
Episodes: 12  |  Based on: manga by Tatsuki Fujimoto
Alternate name: N/A  |  Legal streaming sites: Crunchyroll, Hulu
Licensing status: Licensed by Crunchyroll  |  Dub status: Dub in progress

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
In a world where devils—manifested and fueled by fear—interact with humanity, there exists the profession of Devil Hunting, performed by those who have formed contracts with devils to harness their power and mitigate threats to public safety. Denji, an impoverished, deadbeat teen, makes one such pact with a devilish pup, and upon its death, he transforms into a chainsaw-wielding devil-human hybrid. Promptly enlisted by an enigmatic woman named Makima, Denji joins Tokyo Special Division 4, an experimental unit of Devil Hunters under the ostensible aim of tracking down and defeating the Gun Devil, a being responsible for mass deaths. Ulterior motives abound.

WHY I LIKED IT
Chainsaw Man arriving as one of the year’s most hyped adaptations was a blessing and a curse; the original manga by Tatsuki Fujimoto remains a best-seller, an inevitably profitable title ripe for the taking, but fans were split on the anime’s aesthetic differences and trimmed fat. Certainly, this adaptation is less gruff than its source—MAPPA by and large streamlined the story and interpreted Fujimoto’s original designs with a muted yet free-flowing appearance. Personally, I found that formula (which they previously employed for fellow mega-hit Jujutsu Kaisen) successful again; the world of Chainsaw Man is grisly and dour. With the exceptions of Denji, Power, and Himeno, few characters in this cast have a boisterous personality—their daily life amounts to a lot of brooding, punctuated by sudden spurts of violence. Emphasizing the uncanny mundanity of such a routine was a wise move, letting its characters’ emotional arcs marinate within the bloodshed.

Now, as I mentioned, the anime was my first experience with the Chainsaw Man franchise, and given that this first season constitutes merely one cour, that too is a draw and a drawback; this season was all about building intrigue, and it did so phenomenally, shrouding Makima’s goals and actually giving the most attention to Aki, Denji’s stern mentor figure and one of the most accessible mainstays of the cast. On the flip side of the coin, nothing feels resolved yet. I’ve no doubt there’s more Chainsaw Man coming down the pipeline, and thus I feel no shame in disregarding its inconclusiveness, but other newcomers should be aware this is but the introduction to a crude and mad world. No time like the present to hop on board. Whichever medium you prefer, Chainsaw Man is a moody, enthralling thriller.

#9 – MY DRESS-UP DARLING


Studio: CloverWorks  |  Director: Keisuke Shinohara  |  Writer: Yoriko Tomita
Episodes: 12  |  Based on: manga by Shinichi Fukuda
Alternate name: Sono Bisque Doll wa Koi wo Suru  |  Legal streaming sites: Crunchyroll, Funimation
Licensing status: Licensed by Crunchyroll  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
Wakana Gojou, a lanky high school outcast, has only ever been fascinated by hina dolls. His grandfather is a craftsman of such Shinto accessories, and he’s determined to follow in his footsteps. While at school one day, a popular, trendy girl named Marin Kitagawa notices Gojou’s sewing skills and requests his assistance in assembling costumes for her cosplaying hobby. Taken aback by Marin’s straightforward, cheery demeanor and the risqué nature of her fandoms, Wakana initially shrivels up, but the two gradually form an unlikely friendship that blossoms into love.

WHY I LIKED IT
Romance anime have a rich tradition of pairing the most forgettable nobodies you’ve ever seen with the most sociable, friendly figures imaginable. On paper My Dress-Up Darling looks no different, and in execution it admittedly wanders into familiar corners; Wakana doubts if he’s “on Marin’s level” so to speak, stray glimpses of lingerie and undergarments aren’t uncommon, and the series attempts to drag out the couple’s commitment for as long as possible.

These developments aside, the show largely feels refreshing and natural; of course Marin would be attracted to someone who can help further her creative ambitions without ridiculing her. Of course Wakana would be self-conscious about hanging out with someone so unbridled after spending most of his life tinkering with inanimate objects. Of course people would give the duo odd glances…and wisely, they determine no one else really matters. Their camaraderie is palpable and comfy, affording both characters equal narrative presence, and the adaptation doesn’t let down the premise one bit, complementing it through expressive animation, photo-realistic background work, flirtatious voice acting, and direction that stresses the flustered adolescent intimacy between its leads. It helped that basically nothing of its caliber aired alongside it—My Dress-Up Darling was the talk of the town last winter—but its appeal isn’t owed solely to a lack of competition; it’s a genuinely feel-good (and feel-horny) romantic comedy. If cosplaying is one of your hobbies, you’re all the more likely to hold it in high regard.

#8 – YA BOY KONGMING!


Studio: P.A. Works  |  Director: Shuu Honma  |  Writer: Yoko Yonaiyama
Episodes: 12  |  Based on: manga by Yuto Yotsuba
Alternate name: Paripi Koumei  |  Legal streaming sites: HIDIVE, Disney+
Licensing status: Licensed by Sentai Filmworks  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
In the year 234, Chinese military strategist Zhuge “Kongming” Liang thinks he’s about to meet his end on the battlefield. When he awakes, however, he’s shocked to find himself in modern day Tokyo, where a local musician at a Halloween party wins his attention. Introducing himself, he vows to help the singer-songwriter, Eiko Tsukimi, advance her dreams, using every ancient tactic in his noggin to overcome the odds and defy the ever-threatening influence of music industry titans.

WHY I LIKED IT
While it insinuates Eiko had a rough past and spends a few episodes dismantling a third party’s anxiety, Ya Boy Kongming is primarily a lighthearted affair. When you’re in really deep with a music scene, burnout and cynicism tend to become second nature. This show refuses to humor those emotions. Eiko’s passion is never in question, but she wasn’t gaining overnight fame without a bit of assistance—that’s where Kongming comes in, adapting quickly to the wealth of technology at his disposal and proving that cunning can outweigh connections if you know how to wield it. As Eiko rises in popularity, the series shifts focus, reigniting the fire of a semi-retired rapper and saving one of Eiko’s friends from the patronizing clauses of her major label contract.

So yeah, realistic musician struggles? Check. Genuinely creative solutions to intimidating obstacles? It knows what it’s doing. Outrageous misunderstandings between a centuries-old wise man and the hip youth of today? You’d better believe it. Ya Boy Kongming isn’t the most complex entry here, preferring to let its absurd scenario speak for itself, but it flaunts a heart of gold at every turn and it leaves no stone un-turned in reminding people their dreams are achievable, too; you just might have to think outside the box to get there.

#7 – CYBERPUNK: EDGERUNNERS


Studio: Trigger  |  Director: Hiroyuki Imaishi  |  Writers: Masahiko Otsuka & Yoshiki Usa
Episodes: 10  |  Based on: a video game by CD Projekt Red
Alternate name: N/A  |  Legal streaming site: Netflix
Licensing status: Licensed by Netflix  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
In the dystopian tech hub of Night City, prep school hoodlum David Martinez has little left to live for: his mother, who got him into Arasaka Academy with the hope it could elevate their quality of life, was murdered in a drive-by, and his peers pick on him for not coming from money. Taking matters into his own hands, he abandons that path and persuades a street doctor to implant him with a stolen cybernetic device. His subsequent superhuman feats draw the attention of a gang of black market mercenaries called “edgerunners,” and they accept David into their ranks, but flimsy alliances, personal vendettas, and breakdowns of the body and mind soon fracture the crew and send their plans spiraling out of control.

WHY I LIKED IT
Cyberpunk: Edgerunners is a strange one. The video game it was derived from was critically panned, and Netflix picking it up undoubtedly hemorrhaged hype for its eventual distribution. That Studio Trigger, the most vocally Western-influenced anime company around, got their hands on it is no surprise, and while there’s a core contingent of people for whom their raucous, cartoony aesthetics will never land, I can’t think of a better fit to take on a project like this. The universe is immersive, aided by an eclectic soundtrack, an equally virtuous sub and dub, and a storyboard stripped down to a concise and highly bingeable ten episodes, time skips abundantly inserted to keep the whirlwind in motion.

And move it does; Edgerunners gives audiences little chance to breathe, flung from one traumatic schism to the next as the links in David’s criminal life topple like dominoes. Subplots surface and sink slowly, always circling back to his choices to push further instead of wipe the slate clean. As critical of his actions as the writing is, the alternative is clearly worse; why berate the marginalized when it’s sheltered executives who willfully and evilly exploit their humanity, you know? Despite racing to the bottom, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners carries the hopeful torch that someday we’ll extricate ourselves from the economic orchestrations that doom the powerless to get strong quick or die trying. Until then, find a cause or person to stay loyal to and hold on tight—they could disappear in an instant.

#6 – SPY X FAMILY


Studios: CloverWorks & Wit  |  Director: Kazuhiro Furuhashi  |  Writer: Kazuhiro Furuhashi
Episodes: 25  |  Based on: manga by Tatsuya Endo
Alternate name: N/A  |  Legal streaming sites: Crunchyroll, Disney+, Hulu
Licensing status: Licensed by Crunchyroll  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
In an alter-world Cold War, the nations of Westalis and Ostania (yes, that’s West and East Germany, good job paying attention in history class) maintain a tenuous peace. A Westalian master of disguise, code-named Twilight, is the lynchpin of Operation Strix, where he poses as a mild-mannered psychiatrist, Loid Forger, to make connections with his target, using a surrogate young daughter, Anya, and a civilian city clerk wife, Yor, as his cover. Unbeknownst to him, Yor is an assassin and Anya is a bratty telepath who sees through both her adopted parents’ masquerades. What could possibly go wrong?

WHY I LIKED IT
Before you get too excited, allow me to relay Spy x Family‘s most divisive feature: it’s slow. Like, glacially slow, so slow that most episodes don’t directly affect Operation Strix at all. Once the makeshift household was assembled, indulging in spoofy shenanigans just seemed like the funnier idea, and Tatsuya Endo was 100% justified in committing to the bit. Spy x Family is first and foremost a family-friendly comedy driven by Anya’s ungovernable haughtiness, Yor’s obliviousness, and Loid’s astonishment at how their misunderstandings throw wrenches into a plan that rarely receives leeway to commence. The plot is always a background mechanic, not a proactive goal; there’s no way a cast this adorably bonkers and persuasively caring wouldn’t usurp it.

Split into two cours with a greenlit second season and movie on the horizon, this first act of Spy x Family provisionally sets the stage for an intensification of its national conflict, but I couldn’t care less whether or not it will eventually treat its espionage elements more seriously. Like a long-running comic, its perpetual standstill is kind of the charm; in every nuclear family, there’s more than meets the eye. Throwing those notions of normalcy to the curb and facetiously beating them till they confess, Spy x Family puts a smile on my face with formidable consistency. Das ist super Berlint engineering, ja.

#5 – KAGUYA-SAMA: LOVE IS WAR – ULTRA ROMANTIC


Studio: A-1 Pictures  |  Director: Shinichi Omata  |  Writer: Yasuhiro Nakanishi
Episodes: 13  |  Based on: manga by Aka Akasaka
Alternate name: Kaguya-sama wa Kokurasetai: Ultra Romantic  |  Legal streaming sites: Crunchyroll, Funimation, Hulu
Licensing status: Licensed by Aniplex of America  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
The third season of Kaguya-sama: Love Is War, Ultra Romantic quits dragging the franchise’s feet and forces its leads to confess at last or let their bluster win out in the end; Shuchiin Academy Student Council President Miyuki Shirogane is bound for Stanford, and he and mutual crush Vice President Kaguya Shinomiya don’t have much time left to keep up their disinterested charade.

WHY I LIKED IT
Honestly, as much as I enjoyed Kaguya-sama: Love Is War’s first two seasons, I wasn’t sure it would ever progress this far; it seemed to exist in a comfortable holding pattern, rife with as many reasons to revert back to square one as it had incentives to push further. Expanding the cast in season two let their personalities truly dazzle, and all the momentum it had accrued comes to a head here.

Still, it’s a tale of two halves: this third season’s opening run is business as usual, milking pointless contests between the Student Council members whose only true winner is the audience. Shinichi Omata, whose direction is already further out there than most of his peers, really lets the reins go in Ultra Romantic, refracting simply silly skits into galaxy-brained funhouses. Its second half, set leading up to and during the cultural festival, is one of those rare instances à la Hyouka where the school becomes an organism onto itself, a battlefield where belligerent and bystander collide and threaten utter mayhem. It’s only possible because we’ve had two cours to foresee how the chain reaction will unfold, and it’s all the funnier for the specific ways it makes good on or subverts those expectations. That’s the root of comedy, after all! The patience with which Kaguya-sama reached this point only to throw caution to the wind is something to cherish. If you haven’t watched this series yet, its earliest material may be a tad cold and slow, but it’s well worth the investment; Ultra Romantic cements its legacy as one of the funniest romantic comedies around.

#4 – THE TATAMI TIME MACHINE BLUES


Studio: Science SARU  |  Director: Shingo Natsume  |  Writer: Makoto Ueda
Episodes: 6  |  Based on: a novel by Tomihiko Morimi and live-action film by Makoto Ueda
Alternate name: Yojouhan Time Machine Blues  |  Legal streaming sites: Disney+, Hulu
Licensing status: Licensed by Disney Platform Distribution  |  Dub status: Not dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
On a sweltering day, perpetual ne’er-do-well Ozu breaks the remote control for the air conditioner of his friend’s college dorm. As its residents debate what to do about the oppressive heat, a stubby stranger arrives with a time machine from 25 years in the future and the group haphazardly embarks on a wild goose chase to retrieve a working remote, unwittingly creating time paradoxes as they jump. It’s mainly up to a nameless protagonist and his love interest, Akashi, to straighten out the timelines and still end up with a functional A/C.

WHY I LIKED IT
Fusing the cast of The Tatami Galaxy with a recycled screenplay from Makoto Ueda’s Summer Time Machine Blues, this collaborative ONA will be a richer watch for those familiar with the former series, but it can still be enjoyed as a standalone experience. That’s an unexpected but crucial strength—amounting to only about a movie’s worth of runtime (it even had a theatrical stint in Japan), there’s little opportunity to echo The Tatami Galaxy’s procrastinated sentiments of seizing the day and not dwelling on paths unchosen. In The Tatami Time Machine Blues, there is simply a problem, uncontrollable agents exacerbating that problem, and an urgency to counteract their negligence before it’s too late; outstanding lore about its characters is deducible from inference if necessary but disregarded when uncalled for.

Bewilderingly, though, at no point does The Tatami Time Machine Blues feel like anything other than a natural extension of the predicaments its cast would find itself in. As with The Tatami Galaxy, it expresses the ennui of college-age irresponsibility with a keen eye for mischievous detail, flipped on its head to produce laughs first and foremost. Rendering thematic depth as an afterthought won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but fact of the matter is this: time travel fiction you can easily wrap your head around is seldom pulled off without a hitch. This little series not only accomplishes that, it does so with a flippancy normally reserved for dedicated slapstick comedies. Turn it on assuming it’ll be self-serious, and you’ll only find it funnier. Go in solely expecting goofiness, and its proficiency with genre will wow you. It’s a win-win. I had a hoot with The Tatami Time Machine Blues, and that’s all it ever needed to be. That it’s an airtight, easy to recommend gateway to one of the medium’s most artful titles is just icing on the cake.

#3 – AKIBA MAID WAR


Studio: P.A. Works  |  Director: Soichi Masui  |  Writer: Yoshihiro Hiki
Episodes: 12  |  Based on: N/A, anime-original production
Alternate name: Akiba Maid Sensou  |  Legal streaming site: HIDIVE
Licensing status: Licensed by Sentai Filmworks  |  Dub status: Dub coming in 2023

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
You ready to party like it’s 1999? That’s the year a naive teenager, Nagomi Wahira, gets hired at a pig-themed maid café, and she soon discovers the maid industry of Akihabara is in the middle of a full-blown, decades-long turf war. She and her coworkers at Oinky Doink Café have earned the ire of their rival storefronts and upper management alike—barely squirming out of pickle after pickle, it’s only a matter of time before consequences come knocking at the door instead of customers.

WHY I LIKED IT
Speaking of genre savviness, in lesser hands Akiba Maid War would forgo either its mob story or its moe roots entirely. Miraculously—inexplicably, even—of all the forms it could’ve taken, the one we got is the ideal incarnation. Look, I’m a seasoned anime-watcher. I’ve been at this for 10 years, which isn’t a long time if you were born before me, but it’s a devoted enough chunk of my life on this Earth to stagger me when I say it aloud. Sometimes I think I’ve seen it all. Then the inordinately rare Akiba Maid War shows up and I’m delivered a legitimately forward-thinking, well-composed, and tonally-consistent story about a vigilante maid café whose staff snort and oink at people. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

Give it a standing ovation, I guess. In theory, this has no audience. It should not function. And yet here it is, equally interpretable as a stiff middle finger to corporate demands, a fable about the power of friendship, and a lament over senseless death. Think I’m being too highfalutin? See for yourself; yes, Akiba Maid War is, at its basest level, a spoof of crime thrillers with the most anime-ass window dressing man could conceive. But is it only that? If you know, you know. Whatever the case, it wrenched my heart and made me cry laughing on the regular. Every pivotal plot point and every unceremonious joke were imbued with contagious joie de vivre. Don’t believe me at my word? Find out for yourself. Oinky Doink’s door is open—and they could certainly use more revenue.

#2 – BOCCHI THE ROCK!


Studio: CloverWorks  |  Director: Keiichirou Saitou  |  Writer: Erika Yoshida
Episodes: 12  |  Based on: manga by Aki Hamaji
Alternate name: N/A  |  Legal streaming site: Crunchyroll
Licensing status: Licensed by Crunchyroll  |  Dub status: Not dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
Under the alias “guitarhero,” Hitori “Bocchi” Gotoh has earned a modest online following for her anonymous musicianship, but it isn’t helping her gain any real-life friends or social skills. Her gloom is interrupted by passer-by Nijika, a drummer desperate for a replacement guitarist so her group Kessoku Band can still perform as scheduled. Ironically, Bocchi’s enlistment also brings back the group’s original social butterfly, Kita. Rounded out by the aloof spendthrift Ryo on bass, Kessoku Band slowly gains traction as Bocchi tries…tries…to break out of her self-deprecating, anxious shell.

WHY I LIKED IT
Here’s the short answer: it’s funny. Bocchi is a common breed of teenage disaster, desperate to know self-actualization but too trepidatious to push herself into situations where that growth can occur. Not content to ride on the crests of the character drama alone, Keiichirou Saitou masterminds some of the most outlandish visual gags I’ve seen in years to exaggerate her self-conscious second-guessing. Understanding how to rib a character who feels like shit without also making the audience feel like shit is a tricky art. Bocchi The Rock mostly makes it look effortless. Even better, it displays the nuances of modern day musician culture more accurately than any other “teens in a rock band” anime I’ve seen to date. Beck is from another era now and K-On can keep the tea parties to itself; it’s time for the big (little) kids to jam.

Here’s the longer answer: I have been a Bocchi. I thought playing guitar would make me hot shit in high school. I was, in fact, just another kid, and even though I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if I did get popular, that realization crushed me. More recently, I have been a Kita; more musically adept than I want to admit, but still fascinated by the aura of those more deeply-connected to the craft than myself. Most people, myself included, have been a Ryo; it ain’t just bassists who can act like spoiled, pretentious weirdos. And I’ve certainly been a Nijika; the adaptable, generally upbeat, responsible one who’ll put their foot down if a foot needs to be put down.

These characters feel real, not just because I’ve validated their actions inside and out, but because I have seen their personalities revealed in band after band I’ve caught live or played alongside. Bocchi The Rock is intrinsically Bocchi’s story to tell—she has the most hurdles to clear and thus bears the brunt of its development—but a band is a group, and every member of Kessoku Band can see the stars aligning with a sense of purpose. Stated motivations may vary, but to become more than just ourselves, to know that synergy, to know what we express has been felt and heard…that’s why musicians play music, damnit. Finally, an anime fucking gets it.

#1 – CALL OF THE NIGHT


Studio: LIDENFILMS  |  Director: Tomoyuki Itamura  |  Writer: Michiko Yokote
Episodes: 13  |  Based on: manga by Kotoyama
Alternate name: Yofukashi no Uta  |  Legal streaming site: HIDIVE, Disney+
Licensing status: Licensed by Sentai Filmworks  |  Dub status: Dubbed

WHAT IT’S ABOUT
Riddled with insomnia and finding school a bore, 14-year-old Ko Yamori adopts a nocturnal lifestyle and starts wandering the city after dark. It doesn’t take long for him to run into Nazuna Nanakusa, a crass woman who cajoles Ko back to her apartment to suck his blood. Emboldened by the notion of a supernatural change of pace, Ko asks Nazuna to turn him into a vampire outright, but Nazuna isn’t keen on the idea, explaining that for her to pass on her powers, Ko would have to fall in love with her. Try as he might, neither of them fully understand what “love” means—in the meantime, they settle for hanging out and ritually feeding, though human and vampire forces alike intend to put an end to their friendship, perceiving it as a threat.

WHY I LIKED IT
First, let me tell you about a little love song dear to my heart. Jason Isbell’s “If We Were Vampires” is a sparse, somber folk tune that concludes we don’t fall in love because of physical attraction, the status or wealth attributed to a person, or the directions in which they guide us, but because our mortality inclines us to want to see our lives mean something to a person of our choosing. “If we were vampires / and death was a joke,” the second verse stipulates, “I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand.”

The song doesn’t appear in Call of the Night—its musical palette primarily consists of lo-fi beats you can roam and/or relax to—but I couldn’t get its hushed, bereaved thesis out of my head while watching. Contrary to those sentiments, it’s easy to paint Call of the Night as escapism. What Ko experiences while shooting the shit with Nazuna is just that: an inviting, picturesque reprieve from his first-world stress. Nazuna, for her own sake, receives Ko’s especially tasty blood, which she chalks up to his exemplary inexperience with processing pubescent emotions. When it’s new, any rambunctious rapport with a stranger can feel exciting—Nazuna gets to show off, Ko gets to witness wonders beyond his comprehension—but this is all supposed to be a secret, and those who desire to cut the two off from each other have reasonable motives. Some want Ko to feel valued without becoming a monster. Some want the secrecy vampires enjoy to not be tarnished by a lollygagging pariah’s playdates. Some simply want all vampires dead. Whatever the reason, escapism is only escapism until it becomes your new normal.

That in mind, Call of the Night flawlessly juggles an imposing bait-and-switch, offering skit after skit of merry, soothing, and/or horny escapades before morphing into a Monogatarian interrogation of self-worth (Director Itamura’s been practicing, you see). To top it all off, it concludes with thematic finesse while leaving the door open for a prolonged adaptation. I’m praying it gets one—and if it doesn’t, the just as excellent manga should tide me over. Atmosphere, narrative, and big picture goals operating in lockstep, Call of the Night is a smorgasbord of vibrant, understated depth, asking open questions about mortality and purpose as it rapidly won me over and became my favorite anime of 2022. If you can hear its ring, pick up the phone…or wristband walkie-talkie…and answer. You might find yourself in love with it, too.


Oh, right, you don’t like all that love talk. But I do! And now that you’ve suffered through my extensive ramblings about 2022 anime, I wanna hear yours. What were your favorite anime of the year? Feel free to comment below or respond to this post over on my Twitter (assuming you can even log in anymore). I’ve got at least one more article on the way in mid-January—my favorite EDs of 2022—but this was kind of The Big One, and what a relief it is to have it up before we officially welcome in the new year. Until that brief return, thanks as always for reading. I hope to see you back in 2023!

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