The reviewers at ANN could stand to learn a lot from this show because, frankly, they completely missed the mark. The show is lined with deep themes and motifs that carry it from episode to episode and this reviewer didn’t even exit the station. Allow me to break it down for you guys as a show of this quality truly deserves.

“*You must choose your government and not let it choose you.*” – Vladimir Von Kant

Let’s start at the beginning (like any good story does) and set the scene. Tokyo, Japan – Modern Day. BOOM. The show’s phenomenal pacing allows it the time to delve into the complex issues coming up down the line.

We open on our hero looking down at his phone. While this might seem inconsequential, it actually serves a strong narrative purpose. Observant viewers will notice that his battery percentage is at 90%, which upon several viewings and a period of meditation, give one the insight to digest it as it will turn out to be incredibly significant. Only 5 seconds into the first episode and already there are subtle intricacies that would go unnoticed by most. Yes, this show is that dense, difficult and meaty. Keep that 90% in the back of your mind as we’ll be revisiting it soon.

Those not paying attention might think this is a show about a socialist safe haven but there’s a cargo of cranial combustibles being hauled in tow here. We see the narrator tell us that this purported utopia is only possible due to “the absolute security of being run by the national government” while our protagonist muses on the “dreams of a lifetime of job security” working for the JNR. Here is where the show reveals its true colors in a novel usage of the unreliable narrator, a technique refined by the popular anime classic **Walkure Romanze**. Listen intently to the music playing during this scene and allow it to seep deep into your soul. On the surface it plays like an inspiring anthem but to the trained ear there’s a melancholic sadness permeating the tune. You then start to see just how clever and subversive this show actually is and how what is actually being constructed is a fast track to government bankruptcy. The same level of scrutiny can be applied to the phone mentioned earlier. The phone itself is a metaphor for government and it symbolizes how at this stage the main character is only able to utilize 10% of his mind (as most people do). Also Sturgeon’s Law.

We then depart to our next scene as our lead leaves the train and sees a red balloon lodged in a tree. Out of nowhere a red-haired vixen acrobatically launches herself into the air, nabs the balloon, and then hands it to a nearby child. This is obviously commentary for how socialism slowly assaults the tree of liberty and must be reined in for our children (who are our future). If we are not ever vigilant it will fly out of control and inevitably burst into communism. After an awkward exchange, Koumi is introduced to setup the transition and break the ice. A **cold** wind then passes through ushering in the end of the scene leading to silence. Chilling.

At the next stop? We see the audience’s analog arrive at Central Academy (an apropos analogy for Centralized Government). The instructor grills our aspiring engineer, “What do you do when a sexual molester attempts to escape without showing ID?” The show begs the question, what kind of world requires an ID for sexual molestation? Being that 90% of his mind is still being manipulated by bureaucratic rules and regulations, the obvious answer escapes him. Fortunately, sanity intervenes in the form of a familiar looking classmate who whispers, “Shoot!” This establishes Sakurai, our red-haired wonder, as an outside-the-box thinker and a vital character (a break from the normal indoctrinated conditioning). After all, ask yourself, have you ever seen a red sheep?

We then take a detour to a class project where our idols must reach a certain speed in an antiquated, coal-powered train in order to pass their semi-finals. You might be wondering, why wouldn’t a government-funded institution like Central Academy be using more modern machines? I’m glad you asked as it’s precisely because the train is a metaphor for government, which are notoriously inefficient and not known for being innovators; a point that the show hammers home like an Old West Chinese railway worker. The train then barrels down the tracks billowing black smoke along the way polluting the perfect, pristine white purity of the country. This is a masterful use of metaphor and inspired imagery for how government corrupts everything it touches in pursuit of its own ends. This scene also serves to illustrate an important lesson through the employment of combustion efficiency. Trying to distribute resources equally only holds back the engine of progress and some people have to be “shoveled” aside to the fringes of society in order to escape the confines of a disorganized machine. An eloquently, apparent allegory for the ages. Now they just have to pass their finals…

In a surprising twist of events, the same four characters (our front man, Sakurai, and Koumi) are reunited for their next assignment. Even though their job is to provide security for the infamously dangerous Tokyo Station, their director tells them, “Don’t do more than necessary. All you need is to obey my orders” and, “Don’t do more than you’re told.” A flagrant display of the typical bureaucratic hypocrisy. This is the critical junction where the characters start departing from the track that’s been laid before them.

Their first duty is to investigate a mysterious barking. They find a French-brand pet carrier that Koumi estimates to be valued at 400,000 yen. A searing indictment on how governments cause inflation, leading to outrageous mark-ups on goods, exemplified here through a prominent socialist country like France. This scene executes a fantastic use of foreshadowing. Let’s just say in the next episode it really makes a statement about how **explosive** these kinds of economies can be.

This is punctuated by two purse pilferers that skedaddle off with a poor woman’s purse. We’re now starting to see the crime-infested cracks in what was previously presented as a populous paradise. Their director (the de facto mouth-piece for authoritarian government) tells them to do nothing, of course, but our awakened champions won’t stand for it. This kind of character development can only be achieved by creators of the highest caliber. Long story short, our star and Sakurai (and even Koumi) take down the snatchers in what could only be described as animation so astonishing that its choreography would make John Woo swoon. It’s a substantial statement about how effective we can be when we take action ourselves and to not be dependent on others.

Their thankless sacrifice is rewarded not with gratitude but with a cowardly chastisement and reluctant allowance of graduation. They report to their new jobs the next day and find that, most shockingly, they will be working together once again as the K4 team. A powerful sign of how the fated group, much like the show itself, are going to revolutionize the paradigms they are imprisoned in.

In just a scant 24 minutes and 12 seconds (give or take) we’ve established this a show where nothing is as it seems. It is a treasure trove of genius rivaled only by the likes of MLP. Every time I watch this episode (about 9 times so far) I delight in the discovery of a new gem. I’m going to chug ahead to episode 8 just to demonstrate how the careful craft of the show never loses steam and the writing never flies off the rails. I’ve only viewed the latest episode 3 times and don’t yet feel fully qualified to disect it.

At the start of the episode, ironically titled “*Watashi ga todokemasu,*” we see the reimplementation of foreshadowing as dark, foreboding clouds signal something sinister starting. Moments later, a landslide occurs washing out a vital part of the track. This is important not just because it causes a nearby train to stop but also denotes the inherent weakness of an administration run amuck. The railways are the lifeblood of the country (as illustrated in the opening credits) and the landslide is a clog in the artery of a bloated regime. The government overreach is so extensive that there is no incident that does not fall under the jurisdiction of the JNR security team. As such it falls upon them to escort the passengers to safety. We are then treated to the sight of Sakurai having to carry perfectly healthy citizens on her back in the rain. An absurd but astute example of government inefficacy and the flaw in forced equality laws leading to their logical conclusion.

This is just the setup to a larger story though. We find out that there is a patient (aka government) in need of an organ transplant, undoubtedly part of some kind of socialized healthcare system, and our team must transport it to its final destination. Those of you following along might wonder, “Why don’t they just take a helicopter? Or anything else that doesn’t use the railway tracks they just exposed ARE BEING IMPERILED BY NATURAL DISASTERS?” Answer? Government. As mentioned earlier, nothing is outside the jurisdiction of the JNR. It’s not about taking the most practical approach or utilizing the most qualified personnel but instead byzantine procedures and union dictates. Not that any more evidence is necessary at this point but the next scene is probably the most obvious example of the show’s recurring themes.

Not only are they going to still use the rails to deliver this VITAL ORGAN (pun intended), they must use an old set of tracks that is explicitly described as “not very well maintained.” Of course it’s not. The satire is so poignant that it’s not even subtle anymore. As if to openly mock contemporary conventions, the train that this mission of great import relies on is, once again, not a new, fast model but a dated antique pulled out of retirement. They have to use literal MANpower (pun also intended), in the form of bike powered batteries, in order to get their venerable locomotive going. The women, under the direction of our esteemed conductor, also provide a service.

A sweeping orchestral score marks the initiation of their epic journey as they blaze by a Japanese-style train crossing and other cultural and iconic landmarks. As they near Usui Pass they begin their descent and continue to pick up speed, practically careening out of control and, as you might have surmised by now, the brakes are of no use and ineffective. If you thought this wasn’t another brilliant metaphor for government and how it threatens to derail all of us, well, it is. It also shows how once government starts acquiring power it is impossible to stop. Our team must push and lean to get the train back on track (figuratively and literally) and we see with each heaving thrust their growing desire for liberty and freedom. It’s so moving and motivating that you yearn to lean with them too. The tunnels are replete with overgrowth from the trees above after centuries of neglect from a lethargic establishment. They break through the obstacles in a spectacle that alludes to a returning to our Constitutional roots.

They approach Kumanotaira station and are greeted by its employees who paradoxically characterize society cheering on these inspiring young youths as well as highlighting just how much free time government workers have. As they pass you hear one employee shout, “We don’t know what kind of shape the old track is in!” A salient parody juxtaposed by the immediate transition to a somber scene of gravestones which artfully embody the dangers that lie ahead. And fin.

I could go on about how Noa Kashima, our pop-star idol, represents the importance of a vibrant culture, and Sakurai exemplifies the need for a strong judiciary system, while Koumi epitomizes the importance of education and scholars to society. Or how the show is littered with rewarding morsels, such as Doctor Yellow (the train they used in the first episode) whose name can be arranged to be “Decoy Troll” a blatant inside joke for true fans that ridicules the shallow liberals. Or all the historical allusions scattered throughout the show. Usui Pass? Kumanotaira? Yokokawa? The Sixteen Tunnels? Yet another treat for the erudite who will realize this is the path of Oda Masamune’s famous pilgrimage… But I digress. Anyways, I hope this small tidbit has enlightened a few of you and demonstrated irrefutably that is no “Fail Wars.” Feel free to read more of my reviews on MAL (my **Mahouka** is equally edifying or so I’m told). Zac, I’m also available if you want.