Depictions of the Heian period are inherently interesting; a time when Buddhism and the arts blossomed within the handful of nobility in Kyoto, forming the bedrock of Japanese culture. *Heike Monogatari* is a legend of the downfall of the ruling Taira clan (Heike) in 1185, and a Buddhist parable as each figure faces the horror of war and meets their sad fate. Replace them with robots facing the apocalypse and call it Casshern Sins; some of its Buddhist sensibilities may appear familiar, but there's japanophile value in seeing their purer form.

I may not be the most qualified person to write a review of an anime adaptation of Heian-era literature, having very few reference points and expectations for one. The only Heian anime to stick with me is Gisaburou Sugii's 1987 *Genji Monogatari* film. Years before its Blu Ray release, I tracked down a Japanese LaserDisc and LD player just to see the then-best possible version. The way its characters speak in constant poetry, the goosebumps-inducing Haruomi Hosono (of YMO fame) soundtrack, and the gobs of pathos and sensual, dreamlike imagery weave a magic spell, transporting the viewer to an otherworldly life as a Heian palace noble. It's the epitome of a foreign, esoteric, aesthetic object in anime form.

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Naoko Yamada's Heike Monogatari aims to be the opposite of esoteric — an accessible, digestible TV show. Portraying the bloody end of the Heian period, it chases too many rabbits to cast any spell. Perhaps it's too reverent of its source material; its depictions of Heian life and culture fight for screen time with a Gundam-sized stack of political machinations. One brisk, minute-long scene after the next betrays its hurry to get to the next thing; the whiplash inhibits a sense of place and pathos. It's not incomprehensible by any means, but when any character meets their destiny, the cold logic is apparent while the catharsis feels unearned; each robbed of an episode dedicated to them.

Likewise the show constantly switches modes — from mundane life to comedy to performing arts to dreamlike premonitions and then swashbluckling battles — too rapidly for any to set in. The music is also a jarring genre flux of period-appropriate traditional into techno into jungle breakbeats with rock power chords.

It ultimately comes off as a basket of aesthetic ideas in haphazard service to a plot-point checklist. It checks the boxes but lacks an angle to give it a particular focus and identity, much less articulate the case for its ideas, despite the addition of an original character meant to serve as an audience surrogate. Biwa, as charismatic as she is, is both too powerless and too absent from swathes of the story to function as the series’ focusing device.

Director Naoko Yamada and writer Reiko Yoshida impressed in 2016's Koe no Katachi (A Silent Voice), compacting a lengthy story into a feature film that packs an emotional punch, but with all the balls they're juggling in Heike Monogatari, they've reached their limit. Short on episode count, the hard choices of what to cut and what to focus on in this sprawling epic tale were not made sternly enough.