From romance to horror, seinen to shoujo, here are the stars that shone brightest from the past year.
How did we choose our recs?
Participating staff members picked five titles and ranked them. The only rule was that the series or season had to be complete as of December 2022 or been on the air without a break for over a year.This meant that split-cours and shows that began in 2022 and are still airing (likeMobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury and BIRDIE WING — Golf Girls Story —) were NOT eligible. They’ll be rolled onto any 2023 lists.
We always want to emphasize that our recommendations are not meant as a rubber-stamp of “Feminist Approval.” Rather, we aim to highlight shows we found valuable and think might appeal to our readers as well, with any content warnings or caveats that might apply.
How are they ranked?
They’re not, really. We’ve highlighted our “top picks” that received the most staff member votes, but otherwise they’re just organized alphabetically. The team has varying tastes, as do our readers, and we didn’t want to try to put those tastes in a hierarchy.
Hey, you didn’t list my favorite show!
That’s okay! Like we said, we limited ourselves to a Top Five, and everyone has different tastes. If there’s something that slipped under our radar and you think it’s a series other feminist-minded viewers would enjoy, please let us and your fellow readers know in the comments!
Best in Show
This year the top spot goes to three very different but equally compelling series!
Bee and PuppyCat (2022)
Chosen by: Dee (#1), Chiaki (#3), Alex (#5)
What’s it about? Bee just got fired from the local cat cafe, and she’s really gonna miss those cats. When she wishes for a pet of her own, a cat (or maybe a dog?) falls out of the sky onto her head. Feeding her new “PuppyCat” may prove a challenge when she can’t hold down a job—but fear not! PuppyCat is a planet-hopping temp worker and can sign Bee on to work with him! The two set off to fulfill the odd jobs of the universe, but there may be more to Bee’s squishy new friend than meets the eye…
Content considerations: Fantasy violence; restrained depictions of child neglect, verbal cruelty, and depression; references to and metaphorical depictions of chronic illness; light body horror and bawdy humor; a very irresponsible pregnant lady.
Editor’s Note: Yup, this is an anime! A Japanese co-production, in fact, produced by OLM with many veteran anime directors and storyboarders on staff. If you’re looking for an overview of the series’ premise, production history, and general themes, please read the premiere review. We won’t have time to rehash it here.
I stopped watching other shows for a while because the only thing I wanted to watch was Bee and PuppyCat. I finished it and immediately wanted to watch it again. I bought a Bee costume for Halloween and two(!) PuppyCat plushies because I wanted one for cosplay and one for cuddles. I am forming summoning circles to pry a second season from Netflix’s fickle hands. And I’m leading with this so you’ll understand it’s gonna be hard for me to write about this show with coherence, never mind critical distance.
It’s alternately silly, thoughtful, and devastating; delightfully bizarre in its jokes and beautifully melancholic in its ruminations on time, growth, shifting relationships, and what it means to “be an adult.” If you like Ikuhara anime, I can just about guarantee Bee and PuppyCat is for you.
A lot of the feminist-friendly elements I noted in the premiere review hold true throughout, as the expanded cast of lovable messes are also racially diverse and routinely veer from traditional gender norms. The Wizard brothers are all caretakers to some degree, while Toast, the overzealous pro wrestler who keeps smashing through walls and demanding her rival fight her even while she’s pregnant, is particularly chef’s kiss.
Unfortunately, the show’s hiring practices also remain a pain point, as BP continues to cast a lot of white actors to play characters of color. It’s a disappointing mark on a series that’s otherwise quite thoughtful in handling traditionally marginalized characters and story beats.
Because BP is so thoroughly submerged in fairy-tale and sci-fi metaphor (and because the story isn’t finished yet), there’s not a lot of explicit progressive ideas to discuss, but there’s plenty that’s open to interpretation. It’s not difficult, for example, to read some of the characters (especially Cass) as neurodivergent; or Bee’s unique body and Cardamon’s sleeping mother as metaphors for chronic illness; or PuppyCat’s backstory and the entire temp system as a commentary on capitalist-driven societies; or so on. (The series is also covered in trans pride colors, though whether that’s building to something or the art director just really likes soft blues and pinks is anyone’s guess at this point.)
I know metaphor- and subtext-driven fiction isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and there are plenty of valid critiques out there about why it’s important to have explicit, realistic representation in fiction. But as a fan of stories that encourage audience interpretation, I love how much there is to chew on and muse over in this series (when I’m not giggling at PuppyCat’s soft punches or crying over Moully, anyway). With luck, other writers will feel the same and we’ll see some pitches in the near future, nudgenudgenudge.
I suspect Bee and PuppyCat will be a polarizing series that either does nothing for you or catapults to the top of your “faves” list. For me, it’s solidly the latter—easily my favorite anime of 2022—and I dearly, dearly hope enough other people will feel the same so we can see how this strange, lovely, heartbreaking, hopeful series plays out.
—Dee
The Case Study of Vanitas
Chosen by: Vrai (#1), Lizzie (#1), Dee (#4)
What’s it about? Sheltered vampire Noé comes to bustling 19th-century steampunk Paris in search of a legendary grimoire called the Book of Vanitas, which is said to curse any vampire who looks upon it by corrupting their “true name.” And find it he does, in the hands of a human who has taken the name “Vanitas” for himself. This Vanitas claims to be a doctor who specializes in vampires… and the only one who can save the vampire race from the corrupting force known only as Charlatan.
Content warnings: Depictions of infanticide, genocide, assault played for horror, gore and body horror, child abuse and grooming/brainwashing, depression, suicidal ideation, survivor’s guilt; nonconsensual kiss (episode 4), one-off visual gag of the series’ only notable brown-skinned character being put on a leash so he doesn’t get lost (episode 4).
It technically runs in a shounen magazine, but Vanitas embodies everything that I love about sweeping Gothic shoujo. While the plot might be a tangled web of conspiracies involving vampire politics and church corruption, all of that matters about as much as the lovable mess of nonsense in fellow honorary shoujo Escaflowne. This is a character piece through-and-through, examining generational trauma, histories of abuse, and a variety of deeply intense but largely unlabeled relationships in the way mangaka Mochizuki Jun loves so dearly. It’s brought to breathtaking life with BONES’ stunning production values, a superb soundtrack, and a killer voice cast.
It can dance from popcorn-munching melodrama to dazzling action to chibified comedy skits without missing a beat; it’s also genuinely sexy, very rarely using traditional fanservice shots but instead focusing on the intimate tensions between its main cast. Good sexual tension is about the yearning, and Vanitas absolutely gets that. This is a series that vibrates “everyone is bi and hot” from the rooftops.
The one major potential hurdle is the relationship between Vanitas and Jeanne, which begins with easily the worst scene in the series (a nonconsensual kiss with heavy focus on her discomfort). While the two eventually develop a rapport based on genuine support and the series does its best to invert the power dynamic between them going forward, it can be a tough hurdle to overcome.
It may be some time before we see a continuation, as the series adapts the entirety of the ongoing manga’s current run (which, as a monthly serial, it took almost seven years to build). But as long as they can get this team back, I’ll wait as long as it takes. In the meantime, just for Dee’s sake, I’ll ask: how about that full Pandora Hearts remake?
—Vrai
The Executioner and Her Way of Life
Chosen by: Caitlin (#1), Alex (#2), Cypress (#3)
Also previously recommended by: Vrai
What’s it about? Menou is a priestess tasked with helping the weak and powerless; she is also an executioner for the church, tasked with dispatching the “Lost Ones,” whose terrifying powers make them a danger to the common people. But she also has dreams of a certain stranger—and the most recent Lost One has been dreaming of her too.
Content warnings: bloody violence, body horror, brief non-consensual groping, mild fanservice, casual non-sexual nudity, graphic violence involving an immortal child
Badass girls! Hammy villains! Colorful swords-versus-sorcery fights! Time magic! Deliciously dark, frequently ridiculous, and with an all-female cast with a variety of personalities and motivations, The Executioner and Her Way of Life lives up to its fantastic first episode and delivers a fun fantasy romp.
While this obviously exists in conversation with the isekai genre (and the cheeky bait-and-switch in the premiere will be extra satisfying if you’re familiar with the genre’s tropes and market saturation), Executioner is not a parody. Instead, it takes a familiar fantasy convention—teens portalling through to other worlds—and uses it as a springboard for its own original story. How would a fantasy setting be impacted by the consistent arrival of young, naive strangers with godlike abilities? What ideologies and power struggles would pop up in response? The writing’s not always the deepest thing in the world, but it does put genuine work into examining interesting questions.
These twelve episodes leave us on a shout of “the adventure continues!”. Which is not necessarily a bad thing—things come to a satisfying climax, even if it’s clear this is part one of a bigger story. That said, don’t go in expecting payoff for the various wlw relationships suggested throughout these early episodes. Momo’s over-the-top clingy crush on Menou (which thankfully tapers off as Momo develops beyond a one-note possessive stereotype), Momo’s fun rivalry with Princess Ashuna, and Menou’s growing feelings for Akari all hang unresolved as the curtain falls. Then again, given the tangled situation, it’s difficult to imagine what “resolution”—especially for Menou and Akari—would even look like. Without spoiling too much, theirs is not a straightforward love story, that’s for sure. I can only be curious about where things will go from here, but for now, season one of Executioner is still a good time on its own.
–Alex
The Best of the Rest
These other titles got at least one vote from a staffer, earning them a spot on our 2022 recs list.
86 EIGHTY-SIX
Chosen by: Dee (#3), Peter (#4)
What’s it about? The Republic of San Magnolia has boasted zero human fatalities in battle ever since they switched to drone warfare, but the reality is far less rosy: the “drones” are actually piloted by soldiers called “the Eighty-Six” who have been deemed subhuman by the ruling class. When empathy-driven Major Lena Melize gets assigned as the “Handler” for Spearhead, an 86 squadron known for destroying its commanders, will she and the squadron repeat history, or find a different way forward?
Content warnings: Depictions of racism, genocide, abuse, trauma/PTSD, and violence/death against children and teens (not condoned); a few “jokes” about peeping on girls.
I’m not going to be able to adequately explain this earnest, messy, visceral series in a few paragraphs, so apologies in advance for everything that gets left on the cutting-room floor.
Part 1 is a powerful exploration of oppression, privilege, war, genocide, and what it means to be an ally/accomplice. By dividing each episode more-or-less equally between the marginalized soldiers in the field and their commander in the city, 86 challenges its privileged characters without centering them, explicitly rejecting white savior mentalities and refusing to offer any easy, comforting answers. It’s a gut-punching narrative that thoughtfully tackles a lot of difficult topics without losing sight of its human element, particularly in the complex bond that develops between Lena and Spearhead’s squadron leader, Shin.
Part 2 is… rougher. This is partly because it’s recalibrating its central cast, partly because the production schedule fell apart, and partly because its big-picture themes are less clearly defined (it’s sort of trying to grapple with ethics in the face of apocalypse, but it never quite comes together). Its greatest weakness, though, is Frederica, a young girl who fluctuates between a three-dimensional character and a Precocious Child cliche only made worse by her Japanese voice actor playing her with a grating chipmunk squeak. The series shoehorns her into the plot in ways that at times defy reason, leading to some rough episodes in the middle stretch.
Fortunately, the series finds its footing again at the end, returning the focus to Shin’s struggles with PTSD and the connections forged between its central cast. The finale is arguably too rosy given the heavy material that came before it, but after seeing everything our young soldiers have gone through, I’d say they more than deserve a little hope at the end. 86 is insightful and clumsy in equal turns, but when it hits, it really hits, and I’d much rather a series swing for the progressive fences and whiff a few times than never try at all.
—Dee
Aharen-san wa Hakarenai
Chosen by: Dee (#5)
Also previously recommended by: Peter
What’s it about? After spending middle school friendless, Raido is determined to make some real connections in high school. He starts by making small talk with the girl who sits next to him, Aharen, only to get no response. At least, that’s how it seems at first—it turns out Aharen just speaks in a near-imperceptible whisper, and is just as eager as he is to overcome her awkward past and become pals.
Content considerations: A teacher who’s too invested in her students’ love lives; a couple short sketches about weight gain and dieting.
In a spring season full of surprise gems, this goofy, deadpan rom-com about two neurodiverse-coded teens trying to understand and support each other just might be my favorite. Despite that “rom-com” label, this is primarily a friendship-driven comedy of misunderstandings, as Aharen and Raido get judged by appearances, struggle to express themselves, and navigate personal space. The series is particularly adept at using its characters’ overactive imaginations to draw absurd conclusions, often to great comedic effect.
Fortunately, Aharen-san never veers into cringe humor or miscommunication melodrama because the series is just so darn fond of its cast, encouraging the audience to laugh out of solidarity rather than superiority. While it’s not explicit in-narrative, I’ve seen autistic folks vibe pretty strongly with Aharen and Raido, so it’s particularly heartening the way the series pushes for accommodation and consideration. The pair are always looking for ways to connect that work for both of them, which makes their relationship a joy to watch develop.
Alas, most anime comedies are required by law to have one crappy joke, and in Aharen-san it’s a running gag about their teacher getting really worked up over their relationship. Despite my best attempts to read it as her having “cuteness overload,” some scenes strongly imply that she’s aroused by the thought of her students dating—which, hey, gross! Thankfully it’s a minor part of the series and is balanced by more charming characters and scenes, including a truly lovely moment between Aharen and her gender-non-conforming sibling.
Silly with a warm heart and an endearing friends-to-dating romance, Aharen-san pushes nearly all my favorite anime comedy buttons. If you’re a fan of understated school comedies like Tanaka-kun is Always Listless or mutually supportive rom-coms like MY love STORY, I’d definitely recommend giving this one a try.
—Dee
Akiba Maid War
Chosen by: Alex (#1), Cy (#2), Caitlin (#4)
Also previously recommended by: Vrai
What’s it about? The year is 1999 and bright-eyed Wahira Nagomi moves to Tokyo’s Akihabara ward with dreams of becoming a maid. She quickly finds a home at cafe Ton Tokoton, a.k.a. The Pig Hut. But it’s not all frills and thrills: being a maid means fighting for your life, and newbie Nagomi is about to learn how intense a maid’s life can be.
Content warnings: Gun violence; blood; human trafficking (maids who lose at a certain poker table will be shipped off to work on a fishing boat, though this is a fairly clear stand-in for the sexual kind); organ trafficking (characters betting using their pancreas as collateral—though they end up intact); depictions of ageism (not condoned by the narrative); mild fanservice via skimpy costumes; brief casual racism (Venezuelan background characters used for “funny foreigner” jokes).
“A rivalry between maid cafes plays out like a yakuza turf war” is a pretty fun premise, though not necessarily one that sounds like it could last. It might be right at home in a Pop Team Epic skit, but seems like it would swiftly go stale. And yet, Akiba Maid War has executed this zany pitch with finesse. I think, chiefly, it’s because this series is not content to ride solely on the shock value of girls in frills doing violent kills. It delivers its vision with genuine flair, with every piece of the ridiculous puzzle carefully crafted and placed, from the music to the pacing to the performances. That beautiful, batshit energy of the premiere is maintained—dare I say refined and perfected—across the series.
Most importantly, this bizarre and bonkers story is carried by some genuinely compelling, loveable (though not always likable) characters. The cast is made up of women with strong personalities who get to be all sorts of “uncute” things: greedy, bloodthirsty, vengeful, foul-mouthed, snarky. Yet also: noble, passionate, driven, wrestling with their morals. There’s something delicious about seeing these women get to step unflinchingly into genre and character tropes usually reserved for male anti-heroes, treated with enough narrative respect that the whole thing feels sincere and emotionally potent rather than another juxtaposition we’re meant to laugh at.
Now, the writing isn’t flawless—having said all that, some characters feel weaker than others, the pacing is sometimes abrupt in a way that takes you out, and there’s definitely a rather cynical way to read how the finale reinstates a status quo for Akiba as a whole. But damn it, Maid War is fun. Raucous and stupid in all the right places, for sure, but able to switch things up and hit you—moe moe kablam—with genuine drama and pathos (and a perfect epilogue for heroine Nagomi). It’s a wild ride that feels fresh and inventive, and is honestly my runaway favorite of the season.
—Alex
BOCCHI THE ROCK!
Chosen by: Caitlin (#5)
Also previously recommended by: Dee, Vrai
What’s it about? Anxious Hitori learns the guitar so she can join a band and make friends, but never plucks up the courage to ask anyone to play music with her, or even play in front of other people. Now beginning high school, Hitori is determined that things will be different, but no one seems to want to be her friend and she still can’t make herself reach out to others. Until, that is, a girl sees her guitar case and asks for her help.
Content warnings: Regular intense depictions of panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, anxiety spirals, and dissociation; alcoholism played for comedy.
BOCCHI THE ROCK! is a show I’m somewhat of two minds about. It’s a visual triumph, apt at using mixed media to convey the stress of anxiety or just to do an interesting sight gag. It pulls from a broad palette of sources and does pretty much all of them well, proving that making a compelling slice-of-life so often comes down to execution. It’s also surprisingly heartfelt once it gets its feet under it.
I felt on the verge of dropping the series multiple times in its first half, as the series has a tendency to get carried away with its visual wizardry to the point where it can feel like it’s piling on Bocchi rather than relating to her. However, once Bocchi begins to bond with her fellow bandmates, the show settles into what it clearly wants to be: a story about trying to get through life with a mental illness and having friends who understand and love you even when you feel like an unlovable mess. It’s also refreshing to see Kita’s crush on laconic bassist Ryo sidestep the cliches that have so often gone hand in hand with queer characters. Her crush doesn’t define her personality (in fact, her main role in the band is being the hype-drawing extrovert everyone loves), and the jokes around it center more around the fact that Ryo isn’t nearly as cool or smart as Kita desperately wants her to be rather than “isn’t it funny that a girl would have a crush on another girl.”
The members of Kessoku Band might be named for the rosy portrait of youth, but they don’t quite live up to it and neither do their songs. It’s not radically transformative, but it is quietly reassuring; and given both the fact that the manga artist seems to be drawing from personal experience and the intense stigma around discussing mental health in Japan, I wonder if that basic level of reaching out is its main, so
