Lycoris Recoil (2022)
[SPOILERS]

It is difficult to conjure any criticism for Lycoris Recoil because everything it attempts to do, it succeeds at remarkably. The series masterfully develops a satisfying story, characters, and world with distinct precision. Every shot is created with such purpose that furthers the balance of lively fun, heartfelt sincerity, and intense action. These subtle tone shifts transition effortlessly, highlighting character motivations, societal critique, and even greater life themes.

What is most impressive is that this is all done within a concise, one-cour series. The world is immediately understandable as exposition is presented excellently through visuals, news broadcasts, and natural dialogue. Conversations primarily emphasize characters’ personalities, yet still allow for additional insight into the history. There is a respect for the viewer that values your time, intellect, and rewards repeat viewings. Hints of past and future events are peppered throughout, but no time is wasted with over-explanations. The steady pacing of new information develops a trust that any mystery to arise will ultimately pay off by the conclusion.

Beautiful illustrations breathe believable life into vast, urban environments, as well as the quaint LycoReco café. Even the world itself emphasizes a recurring theme of duality. The two radio towers looming over the city serve as physical manifestations of the past and the future, war and peace, truth and lies. To the ignorant citizens of this near-future Tokyo, life is almost utopian as terror and violence are virtually non-existent. However, we are presented with the more dystopian cost to achieve this – a surveillance police state and violent child soldiers. There is a lot of room for grey area with the humanizing of antagonists and critiquing of the perceived “heroes.” An extra-governmental agency referred to as the DA trains orphan children into these soldiers, dubbed Lycoris. Lycoris engage in extreme violence behind the scenes to maintain the image of Japanese exceptionalism to its citizens and the rest of the world. Armed with the knowledge of this (and a lot of guns), a terrorist named Majima wants to expose the DA for its crimes. His unwavering principle of siding with the weak builds sympathy to where you almost want him to succeed by the end. This results in a truly unique final clash that is equally tense as it is playful. Two evenly matched rivals fight a battle of ideals that can ultimately be seen as a draw. Although the Lycoris stop him, Majima still survives and manages to sow the seeds of doubt to the public that the government utilizes Lycoris to preserve its peace.

The brutality is sold through incredibly fluid animations. Unique action shots feature a combination of very well coordinated hand-to-hand combat and fast paced shootouts. There is a rare sense of creativity when it comes to the action that had me both exhilarated and surprised that I have not seen anything quite like it. This attention to detail extends to even the most mundane moments with full body movement during conversations and an extra effort to the secondary action of each scene.

Still, the true heart of the show lies with its characters. Ironically, the character with the purest, most determined heart of them all is Chisato, a terminally ill Lycoris who is kept alive solely by a mechanical heart. With a short life expectancy, Chisato has the simple, yet admirable ambition of living on through her friends’ memories. She values helping out her community and loving the people she is close to, as opposed to leaving a monumental mark on history. Yet, a shadow organization known as the Alan Institute has much grander expectations for her. Providing her with this artificial heart as a child, the Institute intends for Chisato to utilize the life extension to practice her masterful skill of killing. Despite this, her true sincerity misinterprets the second chance at life as an opportunity to also help save people. Similarly to how she continues to defy death, Chisato defies these rigid expectations to live a virtuous life, wielding non-lethal rounds and by even offering medical attention to the enemies she injures. She recognizes that unfortunate circumstances led the criminals down their dark paths, displaying great empathy to even nameless grunts. We often see stories focusing on altruistic, nonviolent heroes, but this is usually a choice to market towards younger audiences and discredits much of the believability. Lycoris Recoil is not afraid to show brutal acts of killing which is what makes her noble lifestyle so much more impactful. It never feels sanitized at the cost of the story, but instead, the whole point.

An instantly likable and charismatic character, Chisato always has a positive spin on life, despite suffering great adversity. She sets an inspiring example of not worrying about the things that are completely out of her control; an example that is most captivating to her newly-assigned partner, Takina. Takina’s reserved and efficient personality embodies a stark contrast to Chisato, creating a charming and memorable dynamic. What’s refreshing is that there is little conflict within their relationship, alternatively focusing on how two fundamentally different people can grow to become best friends. Being raised by the DA, Takina does not maintain the same peaceful values as Chisato, instead favoring mission efficiency at any cost. She doesn’t even know how to enjoy herself outside of being a Lycoris, having no hobbies or interest in self expression. This is where the series eases back from the high-stake pressure to let the wholesome character interactions shine, both balancing out the pace and building a lasting bond between the two partners. Chisato helps Takina discover herself by shopping, playing board games, and watching movies together. Realizing there is so much more to life than fighting for the DA, Takina begins to forget why she wanted to return to them in the first place. This gradual growth feels believable and genuine. While learning to enjoy her life and friendships however, Takina still does not hold the same level of principles as Chisato.

Character duality remains the focus, but this time between the two heroes, as opposed to the antagonist. Their dichotomy has been the core of the series and by the end we see it put to the test. When Chisato’s artificial heart is sabotaged we learn that the Alan Institute has only one other model that can still save her. Of course, this involves ending the life of the man currently using it, the same man who performed her original surgery. However, he is also responsible for the sabotage to assure Chisato will conform to their murderous goals. Initially this may seem too on the nose, but it reinforces every aspect of the show. It highlights how dedicated every party is to their beliefs and the established world backs up the believability. In these final moments it is clear how malicious both the DA and the Alan Institute are. Yet, Chistato never wavers from her ideals, even to save her own life. Likewise, Takina still strongly believes in doing whatever necessary to achieve her goals. It’s just that over time her devotion has shifted from serving the DA to protecting her dearest friend. This results in an extremely emotional outburst as she attempts to assassinate the man and obtain the heart. Beginning as an almost robotic servant to the DA, Takina’s uncontrollable passion here shows a dramatically earnest evolution.

This naturally begs the crucial question of Lycoris Recoil: how much is a human life worth? Is it right to end a life in order to save another? This is explored through several perspectives, all coming to different conclusions. Again, we are left with a grey area. Humans are inherently imperfect and our emotions and personal connections can greatly alter what we perceive as ethical in the moment. Chisato has lived most of her life without a heartbeat, a constant reminder of her own mortality. This grants her a uniquely greater appreciation for life and influences her compassion towards others. Of course to her, living is more than just surviving. It’s doing what makes you happy and not living for someone else. But when she is ultimately pressured to abandon her values by a man begging for her to kill him, Chisato delivers my favorite line, perhaps the most important line of the series: “I hate people who waste their lives!” Coming from a character who has never expressed a single ounce of disdain for anyone, she asserts just how much life and time matter. At this moment, all of the story threads become clear. We understand why Chisato is so adamant about being nonviolent, we understand her ambitions of living on through her friends’ memories, we understand why she finds her happiness through helping others, and we understand what caused all of this in the first place.

Through an engaging world, dynamic characters, and a gripping story, Lycoris Recoil presents a fulfilling and balanced journey. The interactions feel genuine, the action feels purposeful, and the themes are compelling without ever becoming overbearing. A variety of perspectives challenge larger sentiments of nationalism and violence, while intimate moments allow for a more personal reflection. Reflections of your own relationships, ambitions, and mortality, not in a grim manner, but a positive one. Overall, the examples explored serve as a welcome reminder to question if you are truly living for yourself or someone else.