After launching with a relatively restrictive catalog aimed mostly at a younger audience and Disney adults, Disney+ has gradually opened itself to a much larger range of programming. Case in point, the streamer has dramatically expanded its selection of anime over the years, piggybacking off Hulu’s sizable catalog to deliver a surprisingly impressive lineup. Having sorted through these offerings, we have a list of the best anime on the service that includes battle shonen hits, cerebral sci-fi, touching queer romance, inspiring sports sagas, and a few longstanding classics. Let’s run down the best anime that the Mouse has to offer.
Spy x Family is an action-comedy that has quickly taken the anime world by storm, largely thanks to the adorable antics of one Anya Forger. We follow Loid Forger, an undercover agent in the Cold War-esque city of Berlint, who is forced to form a “fake” family and infiltrate an enemy country’s political circles to avert war. He ends up adopting Anya, an orphan with telekinetic mind-reading abilities, and—at least on paper—marrying Yor, an assassin working for a rival government. While its premise may sound similar to self-serious prestige TV like The Americans, Spy x Family is a (mostly) light-hearted spoof of the nuclear family that is deeply hilarious, often cool, and sometimes touching.
So far, Wit Studio and Cloverworks have gone above and beyond to bring this adaptation to life, and the first season is full of well-delivered gags that I still find myself randomly chuckling over months later. While Loid is technically the protagonist, Anya is the star of the show, as she oscillates between being a little goblin and a precious bean attempting to help her dad with his mission of avoiding a war. And in addition to the many goofs, it convincingly portrays a found family who find solace in each other. Thankfully, the second season once again demonstrates the series’ ability to operate as both a tense spy-thriller and family comedy. As long as its production doesn’t run into issues (something which is unfortunately quite common given the state of labor in the anime industry), it will continue to be must-watch television. —Elijah Gonzalez
Despite the broad possibilities that the Galaxy Far Far Away provides for storytellers, Disney’s take on Star Wars has been downright parochial. Aside from a few brilliant strokes like Andor, recent films and shows have generally been hyper-fixated on the same locales and time periods, almost always afraid to deviate from the living memory of the original trilogy. In that context, Star Wars is all the more surprising. It’s an animated anthology series made by a mix of different studios that provides unique perspectives alongside some familiar fun. “The Village Bride” taps into how those outside the Jedi tap into a spiritual connection with the Force, “Lop and Ochō” explores what it’s like for cultures to be ideologically torn apart by encroaching forces of imperialism, and “The Ninth Jedi” is a subversive mystery story with some great twists.
Oh, and there’s plenty of action too: “The Duel” brings Star Wars’ influences all the way around as it quotes chanbara films, and “The Twins” embodies Studio Trigger’s in-your-face maximalism as its showdowns go interstellar. Sure, there are a few duds in the bunch, but the big swings make it worthwhile. While technically, only the first season is anime (the second is made by studios from all over the globe instead of just Japan), the second is similarly creative and worth checking out. By letting these creatives follow their whims without dogged devotion to established canon, Visions gives a glimpse of what Star Wars can be without its usual restrictive guardrails. —Elijah Gonzalez
Not to be confused with the similarly-titled but differently-spelled Best Picture winner, the 2014 anime Parasyte is an adaptation of Hitoshi Iwaaki’s classic horror manga. Alien invaders have arrived on Earth and are taking over human hosts. Shinichi Izumi is almost taken over by one of these parasites, but it fails to enter his brain, leaving him with a talking, shape-shifting alien controlling his right hand. Nicknaming the creature Migi, this hybrid duo has to work together to battle other parasites. The series’ combination of grotesque body horror, well-animated action, and a bit of humor makes for a compelling watch, and was clearly an influence on future hits such as Jujutsu Kaisen. —Reuben Baron
Did you know The Tatami Time Machine Blues is now streaming on Disney+? Judging by the almost complete lack of social media chatter about it, it seems even fans of The Tatami Galaxy, the 2010 Masaaki Yuasa-directed anime miniseries to which this is a sequel, have missed this news. As for the show itself, this is a small-scale comedy about using time travel to solve relatively minute problems, closer to The Girl Who Leapt Through Time than Doctor Who in scope (to compare with two stories that get referenced in the show). Some of the students who find out about the time machine have ambitions to travel back to the Taisho, Edo, and Jurassic eras, and some even succeed, but all the action on-screen is set within the confines of the college campus and mostly in the present day.
This could all easily be done in live-action or on stage—which makes sense, given that the story is a reworking of screenwriter Makoto Ueda’s 2001 play and 2005 live-action film Summer Time Machine Blues. What the medium of animation brings to The Tatami Time Machine Blues is a stronger sense of character. No live actor, even in extensive make-up, could possibly embody the devilish Ozu as well as the anime version, with his tall angled eyes and pointy-toothed smile. Even characters with more realistic features, like the laid-back time traveler Tamura, make strong impressions via design alone. Additionally, the animation here is as great as one expects from the high standards of the Science SARU studio. You can easily binge all six episodes of The Tatami Time Machine Blues in one afternoon, but I just wish it was easier for people to find out about and get into this series, because there’s a lot of fun to be had with it. Perhaps with a time machine…. —Reuben Baron
Going into Fall 2022, it’s fair to say the most anticipated show in a stacked season was MAPPA’s adaptation of Chainsaw Man. As someone who recently devoured the manga (as well as almost everything else written by author Tatsuki Fujimoto) and whose brain was subsequently filled with a chorus of revving chainsaws, I shared that borderline unreasonable degree of anticipation. Thankfully, this adaptation has largely captured the soul of Fujimoto’s work so far, providing nearly everything fans of the series and first-timers could have hoped for. It’s transgressive, hilarious, and brutal, frequently all of these at once, and is defined by flawed but frequently lovable characters who exist in a bleak alternate-universe ‘90s where powerful monsters called devils wreak havoc.
Although studio MAPPA’s highly polished aesthetic seems like it would clash with the scratchy, off-kilter sensibilities of its source material, its cinematic flourishes feel in line with the author’s obsession with movies. And more importantly, the fluid character animation helps convey that in this world, tenderness and humanity exist within a razor’s edge from heartbreaking violence. When the scales tipped in Episode 8, and it was made clear this tale is a tragicomedy, one where death can strike anyone at any moment, MAPPA proved they have the chops to deliver what makes the manga so special. While this story won’t be for everyone due to its protagonist’s immature aspirations and its penchant for extreme violence, Chainsaw Man is a wholly unique ride. —Elijah Gonzalez
Most seasoned weebs have probably heard the name Gen Urobuchi, a man known for writing countless brutal character deaths alongside plenty of iconic modern anime, from the industry-changing Madoka Magica to Thunderbolt Fantasy and its one-of-a-kind puppet-based martial arts. Of these, Psycho-Pass is among his best, a Minority Report-inspired sci-fi thriller that mixes social commentary with schlocky bloodletting. It’s set in a futuristic city “free of crime” that comes with a pretty big catch: citizens are constantly monitored to measure their “criminal potential,” and if your score falls beneath a certain threshold, you’re arrested (or executed) by trigger-happy cops. The story follows two detectives who come to question and confront this warped system.
The series fully digs into the uncomfortable implications of its premise, portraying the oppressive atmosphere of this police state as it quotes from utilitarianism critiquing literature like Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,” showing the injustice of a world where those who most need help are punished before doing anything wrong. Sure, it can be a little ham-fisted at times, and its occasionally sadistic perps can undermine its own messaging, but ultimately, Psycho-Pass proves a tense ride with plenty of food for thought. That said, word of advice: the sequels aren’t great, so it’s best to stop after the original 26 episodes written by Urobuchi. —Elijah Gonzalez
If you want a heavy dosage of mid-’90s ‘tude, look no further than Trigun, a stylish space western with a soft side thanks to its (mostly) charming protagonist. We follow Vash the Stampede, a wanderer who cuts the profile of a laconic badass thanks to his massive six-shooter and flowing red trench coat. However, despite his impeccable aim and quick draw, it turns out that he’s actually a kind-hearted pacifist with a silly side instead of a Clint Eastwood type. As our hero travels the wastes helping those he comes across, we meet a charming cast, including Meryl, the unfortunate insurance agent assigned to investigate the trail of destruction in Vash’s wake, and the delightful Milly, Meryl’s six-foot-something assistant who manages to outdo Vash in the kindness department while carrying around a several ton mini-gun. While the series is frequently quite lighthearted thanks to these central goofballs, it also goes to heavy places, as Vash reckons with his dark past and family burden. While some elements have aged poorly, including our protagonist’s horndog moments, overall, it’s a classic with its heart in the right place. —Elijah Gonzalez
By its final episode, Akudama Drive had completely subverted my expectations. Not because it ever deviated from the punk sensibilities of its first episode, but because of how convincingly it managed to communicate its ideas while staying true to its over-the-top neon-drenched presentation. The story follows Swindler, a girl sucked into the criminal justice system for a minor misdemeanor that she didn’t actually commit, as she falls in with a crew of hardened convicts following the orders of a mysterious third party. Dreamed up by Danganronpa creator Kazutaka Kodaka, this cyberpunk series has more constructive things to say about its dystopian backdrop than it has any right to, considering its characters don’t even have names and are instead adorned with monikers like Hoodlum or Cutthroat as if they were playable characters in a particularly degenerate videogame.
But despite its intensely-exaggerated presentation, the show delivers one of the most scathing indictments of the criminal justice system and policing that I’ve seen on television, its repudiations of fascist cops and uncaring authoritarian systems ringing out like a belting chorus you’d hear surrounded by studded leather in a seedy dive. It doesn’t convince through lengthy monologues on political theory but by a visceral feeling, specifically of a jackboot pressing down on a neck. Akudama Drive is deeply angry, but it processes that rage towards a deep-seated belief in the possibility of change and the construction of something new. In short, it’s proof that style and substance don’t need to be mutually exclusive. —Elijah Gonzalez
Despite being one of the more under-discussed shows of the season, Medalist nails just about every detail of this figure skating journey, capturing both the hot-blooded thrill of competition and the wonder of performance. We follow Inori, a middle schooler who started skating “late” (i.e., didn’t begin when she was five or six) as she goes against the tide with the help of Tsukasa, her loveable golden retriever of a coach. The bond between these two is the beating heart of the series, a supportive relationship that makes it difficult to avoid getting teary-eyed; we see how affirming it is for Inori to finally find something she’s good at as Tsukasa discovers a similar joy in watching his student succeed. However, although this coach-and-pupil combo is deeply wholesome, the story also grapples with the cost of caring so deeply by exploring the realities of engaging with such an expensive, time-consuming, and fickle sport.
And while those storytelling boons probably aren’t a shock for those who read the show’s well-regarded source material, the quality of ENGI studio’s animation has been a pleasant surprise. These skating performances utilize 3DCGI and motion capture for each double Salchow, as smart camera flourishes emphasize the athleticism and skill on display. Medalist’s arresting sports action and passionately conveyed drama earn it a well-deserved place on the podium. —Elijah Gonzalez
Many great anime are defined by the ability to make us deeply invested in whatever obscure or exceedingly specific topic the author is fixated on. Spice and Wolf is a perfect example, a series that cleverly mixes Middle Ages mercantilism and folklore. We follow Laurence, an up-and-coming traveling merchant, who meets an unexpected travel companion: a several hundred-year-old fox spirit taken human form named Holo. As the pair grow closer over their long journey, we see the ins and outs of 14th-century European trade, pulling us into complicated merchant duels that educate and entertain in equal measure. And perhaps more than this, it brings to life an excellent rapport between our deuteragonists, as Laurence does his best to appease Holo, a wise wolf god whose sharp, witty presence rightly makes her a beloved heroine. While there was recently a new anime adaptation, the 2008 original has a much better command of place and tone thanks to its warm autumnal color palette that gives way to moody chiaroscuro lighting. Romance, bartering, and comfy travel vibes seem like a weird mix, but Spice and Wolf delivers this mix with ease. —Elijah Gonzalez
Before mangaka Yoshihiro Togashi wrote one of the best battle shonen of all time with Hunter X Hunter, he made a splash penning Yu Yu Hakusho, an action series defined by great villains and some all-timer fights. Pierrot’s adaptation of the series stands the test of time thanks to how well it brings out the hot-blooded overtures of these supernatural showdowns. We follow Yusuke Urameshi, a teen delinquent who selflessly sacrifices himself in the show’s first few minutes, winning a second chance in the process: the Spirit World offers to bring him back to life if he solves their problems as a detective. What follows are a series of arcs that embody how to do this brand of fisticuff-focused series right, delivering memorable big bads (some of which are defined by surprising nuances) and iconic showdowns defined by JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure-inspired puzzle box fights. Togashi simply understands how to build camaraderie between this cast as they face seemingly unstoppable challenges, best embodied by the bond between Yusuke and his frenemy Kuwabara. While, like almost any ‘90s series, certain elements have aged poorly (including a particular episode that’s aggressively transphobic for no reason), but thankfully, these lowlights are few and far between. While there are so dang many Shonen Jump series about teen boys with magic powers wailing on each other, Yu Yu Hakusho approached this format with a creativity and earnestness that puts most modern attempts to shame. —Elijah Gonzalez
While many anime and manga fall on their face in their depictions of queer romance, Bloom Into You avoids many of the most common stumbling blocks, portraying the burgeoning relationship between its leading heroines with care. The story begins after Yuu, a freshman in high school, runs into Touko, a popular girl in line to become the next student council president. As the two begin to fall for each other, things become complicated by Yuu’s confusion over what it means to be in love and Touko’s survivor guilt over a personal tragedy. One of the series’ greatest strengths is how its direction extrapolates the mental state of its characters, using visual metaphors to capture Yuu’s alienation regarding romantic feelings and Touko’s unresolved grief that pushes her away from others. These two working through the dissonance between external expectations and how they truly feel ties in with the series’ broader exploration of the social stigmas faced by those in queer relationships. Additionally, its representation of multiple LGBTQ+ pairings, including one between adult women, provides a greater range of perspectives while also pushing back on longstanding harmful stereotypes in anime that portray being gay as an “adolescent phase.” There are a few blunders, but this story captures the authenticity of Yuu and Touko’s love, its strong aesthetic identity making their feelings hit home. While the adaptation doesn’t cover all of the source material, the manga has a perfect conclusion and is a must-read for fans of the show. —Elijah Gonzalez
Sometimes, when you’re bombarded with the fifth derivative fantasy RPG world of the season, it can feel like the anime industry is sorely lacking in novelty. But then an original series like Sonny Boy comes along, crackling with weirdo energy as it barrages the viewer with remarkably animated experimental sights. Helmed by director Shingo Natsume (One Punch Man, Space Dandy, Tatami Time Machine Blues) and animated by Madhouse, it follows a crew of teenagers who find themselves ripped into another dimension that is unbound by the rules of our reality.
While at first it bears a resemblance to The Drifting Classroom or Lord of the Flies, it quickly carves out its own psychedelic space, stringing together a collage of tone pieces and philosophical diatribes that make it unpredictable from episode to episode. Long winded conversations about becoming god. Check. Baseball episode? Also, check. Admittedly, the way it largely abandons traditional plot structure will be off-putting to some, but if you’re on its wavelength, it will stick with you like a half-solved mystery. It may seem cold at first, but underneath it all is a deeply sincere coming-of-age tale that builds out affecting relationships between this group of outcast teens. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything else quite like Sonny Boy, and I mean that as the highest praise. —Elijah Gonzalez
Up until the release of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, Gainax had always been a studio perilously skirting the line between disaster and success. The runaway success of Neon Genesis Evangelion had buoyed the studio from the brink of disaster, and in the intervening years Gainax found itself again in need of another boon. Hiroyuki Imaishi’s directorial television debut, a “hot-blooded” and “unconventional” super robot anime that functioned as a spiritual successor to the studio’s prior works like Gunbuster and Evangelion. With boundless charisma, meteoric stakes, and exponential heaps of absurd spectacle that laugh in the face of sensibility, Gurren Lagann delivered Gainax another cult classic and became the launchpad for the studio’s own successor, Trigger. On the height of Gurren Lagann’s success, Imaishi and co. pierced through the heavens and showed the world just who the hell they were. —Toussaint Egan
Kill la Kill was Studio Trigger’s first TV anime and a reunion for director Hiroyuki Imaishi and writer Kazuki Nakashima of Gurren Lagann fame. Just as over-the-top as Gurren Lagann and about five times as horny, Kill la Kill swaps giant robots for super-powered school uniforms made from alien life fibers—the most powerful of which have to leave a lot of skin exposed or else they’ll overpower the wearer.
Yes, this is one of those ridiculous fanservice anime where large chunks of the plot are mainly excuses to get everyone as naked as possible as much as possible, but Kill la Kill is as funny and thrilling as it is utterly shameless. The action and plot twists move at a rapid pace, the stylized cartoony animation is great, the distinctive characters you’ll either love or love to hate, and the story’s overall messages are strongly anti-fascist. Critics can argue all day whether Kill la Kill is feminist, sexist, or a strange mix of both, but whatever it is, it’s extremely entertaining. —Reuben Baron
In every practical sense, Akira Toriyama’s status as one of anime’s greatest creators was all but secured with Dragon Ball. Loosely inspired by the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West, the manga and subsequent anime series of Son Goku’s misadventures to collect all seven of the mythical dragon balls inspired whole generations of manga artists and animators in Japan. The original series was a classic, but it was Dragon Ball Z that marked the series’ transition from a national treasure into a worldwide phenomenon. With hyper-kinetic violence, flashy energy attacks, dizzying spectacles of mass destruction, and tense moments of serial escalation, Dragon Ball Z is a singularly important installment in the canon of martial arts action anime and an enduring entry point for newcomers to the medium to this day. —Toussaint Egan
Drawing on a variety of influences, from chanbara films to hip-hop music, and oozing with self-confident flair, Shinichiro Watanabe’s Samurai Champloo is simply one of the coolest television programs in recent memory. Mugen and Jin are two rival swordsmen who, after being saved from execution by a former tea waitress named Fuu, resolve to help her find the mysterious “samurai who smells of sunflowers.” From there, they journey across this fictionalized rendition of Edo-era Japan, encountering those struggling to get by in a heavily stratified society. Through its anachronistic fusion of contemporary influences and a historical setting, the series explores the frictions between the existing conservative social order and those who butt up against these stifling forces, such as our rebellious protagonists.
It combines serialized and episodic storytelling, its one-offs tied together through its ostentatious style, dashes of early 2000s ‘tude, and frequent focus on portraying the lives of marginalized peoples. This all makes for a series that is generally breezy, thanks to the great rapport between its central trio, but that isn’t afraid to cut to the bone of various issues. Combine that with its excellent soundtrack, which was influential to the lo-fi hip-hop scene, and duels that channel the look of old-school samurai flicks, and it’s easy to see why the series was such a hit. —Elijah Gonzalez
If you’ve never heard the term “deconstruction” applied to anime, this is where to begin. This series takes the light-hearted “magical girl” archetype and completely juxtaposes it with a reality so grim it feels dystopian. The superpowers that usually empower characters become an unrelenting source of anxiety and peril which leads to grim ends. Emotionally investing in these brave young women will be a masochistic practice once you learn the truth about what it means to be a magical girl. There’s also only one season, which makes for a quick and convenient watch. —Jarrod Johnson II
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 unique to shonen, 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. Yoshihiro Togashi, who wrote and illustrated the manga, 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
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 least 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. The anime 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 fine cozier than Sailor Moon. There’s a reason JJBA continues to be one of the most influential pieces of media to come out of the anime world. –Austin Jones
Sailor Moon taught so many girls that they can be saccharine saviors, and that kindness is the ultimate weapon. Usagi Tsukino never sheds her more unseemly traits, but experiences tremendous growth over Sailor Moon’s five-season span. The plot cycle can get a little repetitive, but Sailor Moon features some really strong lady characters, including all of the Outer Guardians and villains like Black Lady (Chibi-Usa’s evil, grown-up persona) and Queen Nehelnia, whose childhood loneliness spawns true evil. Make sure to watch every season for even more statements on gender and sexuality! —Sarra Sedghi
Both the 2001 and 2019 anime adaptations of Natsuki Takaya’s classic Fruits Basket shojo manga are available for streaming on Hulu. The first anime was cut short early in the manga’s run (Takaya didn’t like the changes made and didn’t allow a second season despite fan demand), so it’s the more faithful, more recent adaptation you’ll want to watch to get the full story.
Fruits Basket’s fantasy rom-com story follows Tohru Honda, an orphan high school girl living with the Sohma family, who are cursed to transform into the animals of the Chinese Zodiac when hugged by members of the opposite sex. It’s a silly setup, but one which affords each of its quirky characters significant depth and goes to some impressively heavy emotional places. Fruits Basket will make you laugh and cry, and maybe even inspire you to be a better person. —Reuben Baron
For many, Brotherhood is the essential anime experience, and it’s easy to see why. A more faithful adaptation to Hiromu Arakawa’s mega-popular manga series, Brotherhood contends with loss, grief, war, racism and ethics in mature and unique ways, ahead of its time in nearly every aspect. What’s more, the show is paced perfectly, with neatly wrapped arcs that lead into each other and bolster a greater global narrative on selected themes. Brotherhood is just the right length, never overstaying its welcome and proving how versatile and malleable the conventions of shounen anime can be.
Brotherhood has a sizeable cast of characters all of different nationalities and ideologies, with motivations that often oppose one another—the show manages to use these moving forces to form factions, alliances and foils that flow in multiple directions, paralleling the often messy, always chaotic nature of human relationships during wartime. The show’s emotional core revolves around the plight of the Elric brothers, Ed and Alphonse, two alchemists sponsored by the authoritarian Amestris military. It’s not your classic military drama, though, as Ed and Alphonse quickly learn how far Amestris’ authoritarianism stretches.
Where Brotherhood excels lies in the sensitivity it expresses for every one of the characters’ fighting for their desires and contending with their mistakes, with particular highlights on the plights of minorities and women. Ed and Alphonse struggle with the fallout after attempting forbidden alchemy to revive their recently deceased mother. Later, their childhood friend Winry is portrayed heroically for acting as an emergency midwife. Scar, initially introduced as a brutal serial killer, is one of the last remaining indigenous Ishvalans, an ethnic group purged during a colonial war at the hands of Amestris—his odyssey continues to ring more and more resonant as we stray further into a post-terror world. It’s why the series continues to wow today: it eschews cliche to make cogent points on human consciousness. —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 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 everyday 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
Every debate over whether or not Cowboy Bebop—Shinichiro Watanabe’s science-fiction masterpiece—is the pinnacle of anime is a semantic one. It is, full stop. Its particular blend of space-based cyberpunk intrigue, Western atmosphere, martial arts action, and noir cool in seinen form is unmatched and widely appealing. Its existential and traumatic themes are universally relatable. Its ragtag group of bounty-hunting characters are complex and flawed, yet still ooze cool. The future it presents is ethnically diverse and eerily prescient. Its English dub, boasting some of America’s greatest full-time voiceover talents, somehow equals the subtitled Japanese-language original. Its 26-episode run was near-perfect, and episodes that might have been filler in another series are tight, taut, and serve the show’s thesis even as they do not distract from its overarching plot, which is compelling but not overbearing. It’s accessible to new hands and still rewards old-timers with every repeated watch. Yoko Kanno’s magnificent, jazz-heavy soundtrack and score stand on their own. Its opening credits are immaculate. It’s an original property, not an adaptation. It feels like a magnum opus produced at the pinnacle of a long career despite being, almost unbelievably, Watanabe’s first series as a director. It is a masterwork that should justly rank among the best works of television of all time, let alone anime. We eagerly await a rival. We’re not holding our breath. —John Maher
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