The above paragraph comprised of lines from Episodes 1 and 2 of this show, Shigofumi was adapted from the light novel series of the same name by Ryo Amamiya by J.C. Staff, known for other anime franchises such as Raildex, Shakugan no Shana, and Toradora! With direction by Tatsuo Satou, character designs, original and anime, by Kouhaku Kuroboshi and Tetsuya Kawakami, respectively, the series revolves predominantly around the existence of Shigofumi, the people they affect when delivered, and the mysteries of one particular mail carrier, Fumika. One of the usual hallmarks of contemporary J.C. Staff productions are that they are romances, or at least characterized by a major romantic aspect. While there aren't any inherent disparities of story quality between those that entertain strong, budding romances and those that don't, such a model limits what can be expected from this studio. Surprised was I, then, at how antithetically bleak and flat the color scheme is like throughout the show, almost like the show wants to have feel uneasy. The heavy use of fading sunlight, shadows, and symbolism compound that discomfort.
Surprised was I, then, that this show felt something more like the content from Kino's Journey, complete with social commentary on disturbing issues of cruelty and callousness, philosophical inquiries on life and death, and an inorganic chatty companion. Even more to the point, the studio went so far as to subvert their informal trademark in the opening episode. In regards to the quality of this content's presentation, it is presented exceedingly well. This show does not hold back the reality of its subject material and its aftermath: exploitation, abuse, abandonment, conformity, parental irresponsibility, public ignorance, teen suicide, and severe bullying all have their place here. Hate and indifference is portrayed acutely, frankly, and poignantly without being unnecessarily violent. However, realism doesn't necessarily equate to pessimism or fatalism, and this series isn't all dark. Faith, hope, and love penetrates through just as much as hate and indifference permeates. It transcends the boundaries of life and even death, promising a better tomorrow, so long as the myriad characters debilitated by suffering allow themselves break the illusions that hold them back and embrace that possibility. On the topic of social commentary, also worth mentioning is Episode 4's applaudable inclusion of a respectable and supportive same sex relationship.
These themes prevalent in the standalone material, the mini arcs, and the overall plot, quality wise, weren't executed equally. Encompassing the standalone material and mini arcs are the primarily episodic content of this series, the best narratively rendered portions of the show, the self-contained stories which, upon the simple introduction of Shigofumi, heightens their humanity. This supernatural factor was kept perpetually simple, and simple works with episodic content because episodic content in general reflects day to day life, and the events that occur within this frame aren't less meaningful because of a few seemingly random elements. The supernatural accentuates the experience of this content, rather than defines it. Anything more complex runs the risk of distracting and, consequently, detracting from the content. But as there is a transition from the episodic to the plot-centric, it becomes ever more important to explain the universe that facilitates the existence and mechanizations of Shigofumi, mail carriers, and Fumika herself, not only the major players. Without that, the developments that take place within plot-centric tales run the risk of coming off as contrived, and unfortunately, a fate which ultimately befell Casshern Sins, which also lacked a solid foundation for its universe, some developments, like our mysterious mail carrier's identity, came off as contrived. Doesn't mean the overall plot isn't interesting. It's interesting as hell. The experience could have been better had the staff done a better job building up to it. Or they could have kept themselves episodic entirely. Then there's the issue of moe. This show isn't mainly moe by any stretch of the imagination, and it's perfectly fine to have moe as an element if executed seamlessly, but it isn't. It sorely stands out, like all cheap gimmicks, adding arguably nothing significant to the narrative, characters being such more or less for the fan service of it all, and, compared to the show's rather morbid content, it is tonally inconsistent and potentially jarring.
The OP “Kotodama,” or “The Power of Language,” was done by ALI PROJECT, and as far as ALI PROJECT's music goes, liking is a matter of acquired taste for their particular brand of synthetic goth, which is pretty much their motif for every song they compose nowadays. Between the dichotomy of lovers and haters, I sort of fall into a middle camp of liking some of their songs, ED1 of Code Geass R1, titled “Yuukyou Seishunka,” or “Chivalrous Youth Song,” but disliking their current musical approach, and Shigofumi kind of leans left of that spectrum. It's not a bad song, per say, because it certainly establishes a foreboding sense of mystery, but at the same time, it clashes with the slower and quieter moments of the show, which I contend are this series' highlights. The OP's visuals receive the same laud and, to a lesser extent, complaint. The ED “Chain” by Snow, on the other hand, both in terms of music and visuals, matches the simple beauty of these moments to a tee while reemphasizing its theme of light and hope in the midst of a dark and despair-ridden world.
Despite the partially wasted exectued potential of its plot, this show is, nonetheless, a great series brimming with sincerity for its material, illustrating the basest and the greatest that people have to offer, through that final message, that final letter left by the departed. Letters full of hatred. Of deep belief. Of passionate love. Hence, Shigofumi.
I give Shigofumi an 8 out of 10.
