Adapted from Yukinobu Tatsu’s unabashedly unhinged breakout manga, the latest fall anime sensation flirts recklessly with the freakish and the fantastic. Alien abductions, occult phenomena, cryptid hunting, and a romantic comedy collide in this glittering mosh pit of a show — the anime equivalent of a double-shot espresso spiked with something hallucinogenic. It’s absurd, audacious, and maddeningly brilliant, begging the question: how on earth does Dandadan not fall apart?
It begins, unassumingly enough, with Momo Ayase, a high schooler whose belief in ghosts is as sturdy as her disdain for UFOs, and Ken Takakura (nicknamed Okarun), her awkward classmate who holds the exact opposite convictions. A wager sets the narrative gears turning — she’ll confront aliens; he’ll tackle ghosts. Naturally, chaos ensues. Dandadan wastes no time plunging its protagonists into its crackpot world where intergalactic perverts and yokai (supernatural entities) are equally plausible threats. What follows is a frenzied ballet of paranormal pandemonium, driven by Science Saru’s trademark animation, which switches gears between hyper-stylized mayhem and breathtaking elegance.
It would be easy to dismiss Dandadan as a fast-paced fever dream, but that would be doing it a disservice. The genius lies in how it weaponizes its absurdity, using the bizarre as a vehicle for disarmingly heartfelt storytelling. The characters are gloriously layered, particularly Momo, whose sharp-tongued exterior hides a tender, fiercely loyal heart. Okarun, meanwhile, evolves from a timid conspiracy theorist to an unlikely hero, his transformation marked by a mix of self-deprecating humor and genuine courage.
A still from ‘Dandadan’
| Photo Credit:
Crunchyroll
This, however, isn’t a show for the faint-hearted. Within the first ten notorious minutes, Momo finds herself nearly assaulted by depraved alien menaces, which is but a taste of some disturbingly lewd moments to come. The show sidesteps exploitation by focusing on Momo’s resilience and agency, an effort that feels deliberate and, thankfully, deft. Director Fūga Yamashiro manages to preserve the discomfort of these moments without tipping into gratuitous territory.
Science Saru animates every frame with a frenetic energy that feels borderline irresponsible. The show plays with monochromatic palettes and bursts of neon, using colour filters as narrative devices to distinguish spectral battles from alien encounters. An early sequence unfolds in near-greyscale, climaxing in a blaze of crimson that practically singes the screen. Later episodes lean into bold greens and electric blues in an unsubtle but intoxicating visual language.
The animation is dazzlingly unhinged, swaying between operatic and slapstick. One moment, Momo is battling the horde of lecherous aliens (whose design manages to be both grotesque and hilarious); the next, she’s seen endlessly gnawing on crab meat with relentless vigour.
A still from ‘Dandadan’
| Photo Credit:
Crunchyroll
This tightrope walk of moods is where Dandadan is at its most audacious. Take Turbo Granny, for instance — a fiendish yokai-turned-stuffed-cat with an affinity for inappropriate one-liners and a snack-time fixation on wieners — she’s as hilariously off-putting as she is genuinely unnerving. The humour, pitch-black and razor-sharp, slices through the tension just when it’s about to boil over.
Looney Tune-esque chases between spectral adversaries, peppered with cartoonishly exaggerated facial expressions, somehow fit snugly alongside moments of genuine peril, never breaking the spell. The sheer elasticity of tone is a feat in itself, proof that Science Saru’s ability to juggle pathos and absurdity without ever dropping the ball (hehe) is second to none.
Later Momo and Okarun confront the tragic backstory of a vengeful spirit — a gut punch of an episode, delivered with minimal dialogue and maximal emotion. It unfolds with heartbreaking simplicity, trading the show’s usual dynamism for a muted, almost ethereal tone. It’s a tear-jerking moment, made all the more poignant by stunning animation. The use of colour here is particularly striking — shadows play like living entities, and a single, desaturated palette conveys an entire lifetime of sorrow, before shifting to a gorgeous requiem of death among the stars.
A still from ‘Dandadan’
| Photo Credit:
Crunchyroll
Of course, no discussion of Dandadan would be complete without a nod to Kensuke Ushio’s masterful score. The music is a genre-hopping marvel, seamlessly blending classical motifs with techno beats. Particularly striking is a cheeky rendition of the “William Tell Overture”, appropriately dubbed, “William Hell Overture”. It’s exhilarating, ridiculous, and somehow perfect.
And has Creepy Nuts’ sophomore opening “Otonoke,” the follow-up to last year’s earworm extravaganza “Bling-Bang-Bang-Born,” ever actually left any otaku’s playlist — or are we all just doomed to have it looping in our heads until the end of time?
What makes Dandadan truly impossible to ignore, or even define, is its willingness to embrace contradiction. It’s a love story that skewers every romantic cliché while somehow leaving you starry-eyed. A comedy so twisted it makes you wince even as you’re laughing out loud. And it’s also an action-packed spectacle punctuated by moments so tender you’d swear the show has a soul after all. In lesser hands, this would be an unwatchable trainwreck. In Science Saru’s, it’s a masterpiece.
Call it genius, call it madness, call it both. Either way, Dandadan doesn’t care and is here to stay. It’s an encapsulation of the confounding possibilities of storytelling when creators refuse to play it safe, rewarding those who let go of logic and embrace the anarchy with one of the most intoxicating anime experiences in recent memory.
All episodes of Dandadan are currently streaming on Crunchyroll
Published – December 20, 2024 05:38 pm IST
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