contrary, it would’ve made more sense that way.
Without any explanation whatsoever, for some mysterious reason Mikuru and Yuki never fought with laser beams and magic spells on school grounds. Apparently their goal had become trying to be the first to capture Itsuki’s heart.
The story went completely off the rails, devolving into a narrative about two girls vying for the affections of one boy.
Of course, Yuki had a huge problem. After all, Mikuru lived under the same roof as Itsuki, giving her an advantage that was like the Great Wall of China, making Yuki (where did she live, anyway?) an invading Hun, totally unable to get over the barrier.
To make a comeback, Yuki would have to resort to extreme methods.
“…”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Yuki started hugging Itsuki regardless of time and place. No doubt the sudden feminine physical contact was meant to leave Itsuki shaken, but Yuki’s face was so expressionless, it’s hard to ascertain what, if anything, she was feeling, and it was more eerie and off-putting than anything else.
Her facial expression had no relationship to her actions.
Although Mikuru managed to act jealous every time she sawthe two of them, from outside Itsuki appeared not to care one way or the other, so there was no real emotion conveyed at all.
It was as though it didn’t really matter what happened to Itsuki.
And owing to time constraints, it was about time to gather everybody together for one last gasp at the finale.
Perhaps because they were bored with the lighthearted school scenes and the cease-fire that applied on the school grounds, or perhaps because their true identities simply came through sometimes, Mikuru and Yuki now resumed their original roles of Battle Waitress and Alien Sorcerer and skirmished sporadically.
With each scene, the depth of the plot’s confusion increased as it progressed thusly:
—Mikuru fighting Yuki and Yuki’s cat familiar, Shamisen, in an apartment complex courtyard.
—Mikuru and Yuki (with Shamisen) tossing firecrackers at each other in the bamboo forest behind the school.
—Mikuru and Yuki wrestling each other in front of some unknown person’s house, with a bored Shamisen looking on.
—Mikuru and Yuki chasing each other around Itsuki’s living room, while Itsuki’s little sister holds Shamisen and laughs.
And just when you think we’ve made it through these pointless scenes, the film flirted with exhaustion yet again as it dredged up the school/love-triangle plot.
Itsuki thus far had remained indecisive on the matter of Mikuru and Yuki, which of course would earn him cries of resentment from all around him—from the other boys, that is. But the Ultra Director who ruled this story like a god chucked all such complaints out of the ring and obstinately imposed her own will.
Which would explain why the story so far had careened out of control, like a chimpanzee playing a racing game, crashing at every corner then rampaging ahead anyway.
But even the Ultra Director eventually realized that despite theplay-it-by-ear philosophy she’d used thus far, if she didn’t wrap things up soon, they’d never get to the ending at all.
Of course, it was already too late, if you asked me.
Anyway, perhaps she realized that at this rate there’d be no story at all, so all the little scenes with the characters doing who-knows-what got forcibly mashed together as we rushed toward the end.
Yuki suddenly remembered her original purpose and informed Mikuru of their final confrontation.
One morning, Mikuru opened her shoe locker to find a note reading LET’S FINISH THIS in mechanically written letters that looked like some printer had spit them out.
But still—if Yuki had really wanted to take out Mikuru, she’d had scores of opportunities thus far, and she wouldn’t have had to go to the trouble of informing Mikuru ahead of time. And yet who can fathom the mind of a space alien who goes around pretending to be a normal, expressionless
Without any explanation whatsoever, for some mysterious reason Mikuru and Yuki never fought with laser beams and magic spells on school grounds. Apparently their goal had become trying to be the first to capture Itsuki’s heart.
The story went completely off the rails, devolving into a narrative about two girls vying for the affections of one boy.
Of course, Yuki had a huge problem. After all, Mikuru lived under the same roof as Itsuki, giving her an advantage that was like the Great Wall of China, making Yuki (where did she live, anyway?) an invading Hun, totally unable to get over the barrier.
To make a comeback, Yuki would have to resort to extreme methods.
“…”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Yuki started hugging Itsuki regardless of time and place. No doubt the sudden feminine physical contact was meant to leave Itsuki shaken, but Yuki’s face was so expressionless, it’s hard to ascertain what, if anything, she was feeling, and it was more eerie and off-putting than anything else.
Her facial expression had no relationship to her actions.
Although Mikuru managed to act jealous every time she sawthe two of them, from outside Itsuki appeared not to care one way or the other, so there was no real emotion conveyed at all.
It was as though it didn’t really matter what happened to Itsuki.
And owing to time constraints, it was about time to gather everybody together for one last gasp at the finale.
Perhaps because they were bored with the lighthearted school scenes and the cease-fire that applied on the school grounds, or perhaps because their true identities simply came through sometimes, Mikuru and Yuki now resumed their original roles of Battle Waitress and Alien Sorcerer and skirmished sporadically.
With each scene, the depth of the plot’s confusion increased as it progressed thusly:
—Mikuru fighting Yuki and Yuki’s cat familiar, Shamisen, in an apartment complex courtyard.
—Mikuru and Yuki (with Shamisen) tossing firecrackers at each other in the bamboo forest behind the school.
—Mikuru and Yuki wrestling each other in front of some unknown person’s house, with a bored Shamisen looking on.
—Mikuru and Yuki chasing each other around Itsuki’s living room, while Itsuki’s little sister holds Shamisen and laughs.
And just when you think we’ve made it through these pointless scenes, the film flirted with exhaustion yet again as it dredged up the school/love-triangle plot.
Itsuki thus far had remained indecisive on the matter of Mikuru and Yuki, which of course would earn him cries of resentment from all around him—from the other boys, that is. But the Ultra Director who ruled this story like a god chucked all such complaints out of the ring and obstinately imposed her own will.
Which would explain why the story so far had careened out of control, like a chimpanzee playing a racing game, crashing at every corner then rampaging ahead anyway.
But even the Ultra Director eventually realized that despite theplay-it-by-ear philosophy she’d used thus far, if she didn’t wrap things up soon, they’d never get to the ending at all.
Of course, it was already too late, if you asked me.
Anyway, perhaps she realized that at this rate there’d be no story at all, so all the little scenes with the characters doing who-knows-what got forcibly mashed together as we rushed toward the end.
Yuki suddenly remembered her original purpose and informed Mikuru of their final confrontation.
One morning, Mikuru opened her shoe locker to find a note reading LET’S FINISH THIS in mechanically written letters that looked like some printer had spit them out.
But still—if Yuki had really wanted to take out Mikuru, she’d had scores of opportunities thus far, and she wouldn’t have had to go to the trouble of informing Mikuru ahead of time. And yet who can fathom the mind of a space alien who goes around pretending to be a normal, expressionless
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