The Best Anime of 2022

Christopher Farris, Steve Jones & The Best Moments

5. Birdie Wing -Golf Girls' Story-

Good lord, this was a hell of a year for anime. It's to the point that I'm thankful for my efforts at narrowing down this list that there were a few shows I could put off until next year. Chainsaw Man? Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury? See you next year when you've proven worthy of ongoing recognition or flown soundly off the rails. But there was one anime that began this year that I couldn't ignore, even if it is set to continue in 2023. That, of course, would be Birdie Wing -Golf Girls' Story-, the insane, illegal, homoerotic golf adventure that stole the hearts of me and so many others over the spring. This show is already basically a Gundam show but with golf, and you know that franchise's reputation for torpedoing itself in the second half of any given entry, so I feel like I have to get my admiration of Birdie Wing in now, while I'm still assured of its greatness! Those kinds of played-up superlatives settle it for a series like this, right? Birdie Wing, a series where a teenage golf hustler has a shootout on a randomized mecha golf course with a prosthetic-armed golf mob boss who later gets assassinated over the whole affair, feels like a fake show, in the best way. It should be a series that exists as a joke in another, more serious show, but we luckily live in the universe where Birdie Wing is real, and we're getting more of it next year.

4. Call of the Night

Sometimes I gotta have one on here for myself, you know? Call of the Night mostly passed me by in its initial airing, and I only finally caught up with it around its last few episodes. So I missed the opportunity to recognize it on my best-of-the-season list. There were self-imposed limitations on following this series: I insisted on only watching the episodes at night since any other time wouldn't feel right. That's the kind of show Call of the Night is, not simply beckoning the viewer to be sucked into its immensely-satisfying vibes but pressing you to experience it on its tonal terms. Nazuna and Ko's midnight misadventures spurred me into taking a couple of my own late-night walks out in the sweaty summer nights upon finishing some episodes, wanting to prolong that feeling of basking in the atmosphere, even if real life's nighttime starscapes couldn't hope to match the gorgeous color-swamped backdrops that Call of the Night so consistently displayed (seriously guys, release a pack of those backgrounds in high-definition so I can use them as desktop wallpapers). Call of the Night technically has a narrative, but it's also a show I can see myself just throwing on a random episode of on a given night, seeking to unwind within the atmosphere. Unless it's an episode with Anko in it when the anxiousness levels will be dialed way up, but like, in the best, sexy kind of way.

3. Love Live Superstar Season 2

Next year should see the release of the unprecedented third season of a Love Live series, with Superstar being the one to net that tradition-breaking achievement. It deserves it. Immediately following the second season of Nijigasaki High School Idol Club, which could be charitably described as 'perfectly fine,' it felt like the effectiveness of Superstar Season 2 and the reaction to it was a world apart. Superstar had already set out to be something of a fresher take on the franchise's idol indulgences. This second season proved that was a smart move by paying even further dividends on its distinguishing setups. Yes, part of that was bringing up the amount of girls in the group to the requisite number of nine, but now we got to see some real dynamics in the disparities between the first-years and second-years. And those new characters themselves? Superstar Season 2 gave us Natsumi, the YouTube Crimes Idol. I don't think I need to ask for anything else. Except I hope that Season 3 can continue this incredible hot streak for Love Live, but seeing how they built on that here, I don't need to worry.

2. Cyberpunk: Edgerunners

Studio Trigger is destined to always be somewhere on this list of mine for any given year, but their approach for 2022 turned out to be a little unconventional. A Netflix-original promotional tie-in to a two-year-old video game most widely known for its famously botched launch, the prospects for Edgerunners were…dubious. But hey, if Trigger can spin an obscure old Ultraman spin-off into their particular strain of gold, we should never have counted out the magic they could work with Cyberpunk. Edgerunners is a series that pulls off wearing its tie-in fashion with aplomb, landing as something that at once feels unmistakably a product of Hiroyuki Imaishi and Trigger and also right at home with the hyper-violent OVAs of the '80s and '90s. It's handily one of the most profound, affecting tragedies I've seen out of a series in recent memory. Yet, it's also eminently, enjoyably rewatchable just for the chance to take in the craft of its neon-soaked stylings and shamelessly effective needle-drop soundtrack. It even convinced me to start playing the video game! I didn't manage to stick with it, but it got me to try, all on the back of this nifty little Netflix cartoon continuing to live rent-free in my head long after I finished it.

© Aka Akasaka／Shueisha・Kaguya-sama: Love is War Production Committee

1. Kaguya-sama: Love is War -Ultra Romantic-

Incredible year for anime that this was; I don't know that this front slot was ever in doubt. From the moment the latest season was announced, this was always Kaguya-sama's contest to lose. And Ultra Romantic only further proved how much of an all-timer this series is in both the 'romantic' and 'comedy' parts of being a romantic comedy. Kaguya-sama has always come off as a deliberate, envelope-pushing effort for illustrating comedy in anime (which we're now seeing be earnestly rivaled in productions like Bocchi the Rock), and this third season pushes its evolution further. I could go on about gags like the unexpected swerve into PS1 Resident Evil camera angles or the astonishing direction of the big, ultra-romantic confession scene at the end, but that would all amount to saying, "Just go watch it for yourself."

My genuine appreciation for Kaguya-sama's evolution comes from how it's learned and grown from the efforts of its previous two seasons. Not content to drop the most emotionally-devastating character study within an effectively uproarious comedy, Ultra Romantic mixes the sincere and the silly in ways that complement each other. So we get Kaguya's actual health being affected by her tsundere tendencies at the same time they're inducing a cringing fit of corpsing in her maid Hayasaka (who is not only Best Girl, but picks up the Best Boy slot this season as Hethaka-kun). We watch as Ishigami, overcoming his previous-season status to now be unquestionably the funniest character in the show, manages the unprecedented feat of accidentally confessing to his crush without realizing it. And we watch as three seasons of build-up are delivered to shatter the very status quo that Love is War is built on. I don't know how anything else this year could have competed. Bring on the movie.

5. Call of the Night

I shouldn't be surprised that my most relatable love story of the year is between an insomniac boy who knows nothing about romance and a vampire girl who wants to drink beer, eat hot chip, and play Minecraft. I have been both of these people. I am both of these people. And that personal connection is why I have to start this list with Call of the Night. My biases aside, it stands out as an offbeat modern vampire story with impeccably chill vibes and lots of fresh spins on the genre's usual lore. The music, colors, and voice acting all do justice to Kotoyama's already excellent manga. The adaptation handles the season's later shifts in tone well enough for me to be chomping for a sequel. But the intersection of gentle hedonism, depressive angst, and genuine infatuation with the world's off-hours is what pulls me in, heart and all. It's a call I can't bring myself to refuse.

4. The Orbital Children

Nearly 15 years after wrapping up Dennou Coil, Mitsuo Iso's return to directing feels miraculous. Orbital Children's format betrays some of that improbability. Screened as a two-part film event in Japan and released as a six-part OVA on Netflix internationally, with a lot of story allegedly left on the cutting room floor, it makes for an odd and messy work. But it's also breathless. Iso will cram an idea that could sustain an entire episode into a single sentence, and then he'll leap to the next bonkers idea or set piece without a pause. While it makes for prickly, heady science fiction, I love its ambition as much as I love Iso's predilection for dumb humor and authentically snot-nosed children. The orbital disaster movie setting by way of 2013's Gravity also keeps its narrative on knuckle-whitening rails for a good chunk of its runtime, which some audiences might find an improvement over the meanderings of Dennou Coil. While it doesn't wholly excise all of Iso's indulgent habits and thought experiments, that's a plus in my book. I'm glad he's back behind the wheel, and I hope we get to see even more of him in the future.

3. Made In Abyss: The Golden City of the Scorching Sun

This second season will only convert people who were already knee-deep in Made In Abyss' festering hole. For the rest of us sickos, however, this is the best the series has ever been, shoveling out bucketfuls of philosophy, tragedy, and humanity from the grimy muck we call Existence. But I don't know if I can fully articulate why it grabs me so much. The story reaches into places more primal than words. Its fascination with the abject horror of life feels Herzogian in tenor—not sadistic, but interested in the areas where nature's power, cruelty, and indifference brush against humanity's inclination to think, feel, and love. If it's impossible to win this conflict, how do we reconcile that impossibility within ourselves? Do we turn to savagery? Do we hold onto ourselves even more tightly? Or do we trust others to help? None of these answers have simple solutions, and at the end of it all, on the precipice of the abyss, we are all just meat tubes cursed with consciousness. We are horrible, and we are beautiful. Like it or not, it's up to us.

2. Bocchi the Rock!

Everyone loves an underdog, which is one factor contributing to Bocchi's breakout success in an autumn season stuffed with heavyweights. Granted, I'm just basing that on the only metric important to me—the amount of fanart that crosses my Twitter timeline—but it seems to have exceeded expectations. It's the little live music anime that could! And frankly, it deserves all that recognition. Bocchi the Rock! holds its own even against the similarly brilliant comedy leviathan Kaguya-sama, whose third season is one of many painful cuts I've had to make to this list. Where Bocchi succeeds and surpasses its competitors, for me, is not just in its hashtag-relatable jabs about social anxiety, nor merely in its gamut of creative arts and crafts projects, but in its authenticity as an anime about music. I've been to venues like Starry. I've downed the overpriced drinks. I've heard bands soar and flounder onstage. Live music is one of my favorite things in the world, and Bocchi's music kicks ass. The Kessoku Band songs pull writing talent from Japanese alt-rock pillars like KANA-BOON and tricot, and the show closes with a cover of Asian Kung Fu Generation (who also serve as the band's namesakes). On every level, this is an anime that was put together with care, intent, and respect for its source and subject matter—except when it comes to mercilessly dunking on Bocchi. And on that level, its affinity for animated anarchy makes Bocchi a genre-defining headbanger.

© BNP / BIRDIE WING Golf Club

1. Birdie Wing -Golf Girls' Story-

I've had “Birdie Wing AOTY” appended to my Twitter username for the better part of the year now, so I couldn't respect myself if I put any other show here. And when it comes down to sheer week-to-week giddiness, no anime was sillier nor more delightful to follow than Birdie Wing. It does for golf what Sk8 the Infinity did for skateboarding; it turns the sport into a crime-ridden crucible full of youthful ambitions, kooky villains, life-and-death showdowns, and overpowering homosexuality. It's an anime unstuck from both time and common sense. The voice actors for Char and Amuro play thinly-veiled analogs of their classic characters (but in golf!). There's a golf mafia with golf dons and golf capos who use an underground modular golf course to hold illegal golf tournaments to resolve their golf disputes. Our dirtbag heroine can't keep the ladies off her. Her rival and aspiring romantic partner is an heiress to a golf fortune. A rocket launcher and a psychoactive tattoo each factor into the plot. I could go on, but the point is that Birdie Wing is off its rocker and utterly compelling at every step. It transmutes an already ridiculous sport into an amphitheater of absurdity, and its second half easily tops my most anticipated list for 2023. I'm counting down the days until Eve's Blue Bullet pierces my brain again.

©Yuto Yotsuba・Ryō Ogawa・Kodansha／Ya Boy Kongming! Production Committee

Kongming hatched a lot of schemes throughout Ya Boy Kongming!, but none were as fun to watch come to fruition as his plot to recruit the underground rapper Kabetaijin to Eiko's cause. Kabetaijin is small and normally ridden to anxiety, but he comes to life onstage, and Shoya Chiba's flow puts every single member of the Hypnosis Mic cast to shame. On the other side, Kongming's more singsong, poetic style was the perfect showcase for his charisma and intellect, and I found myself hooting and hollering as if I were standing in the crowd watching them in person. The character acting was spot on and would have carried the scene, even without the Jojo's Bizarre Adventure-style Stands appearing behind them.

None of this would have carried over to English without the work of the translator Jake Jung since retaining the rhythm, rhyme schemes, and tone is the challenge of a career, especially on a simulcast schedule!

©2022 Love Live! Superstar!!

If you grew up with the Disney Renaissance as I did, then you know there's absolutely nothing better in a musical than the villain song. There's something special that happens when suddenly the lights dim, the shadows deepen, and a grandiose ode of criminal intent rings out in stark contrast to the happy and joyous songs of the heroes. Love Live has occasionally dabbled with that concept, but it's not until the super-second super-season of Superstar that they fully deliver, and it's a sight to behold. Wien Margarette's mysterious and hyper-dramatic arrival on the scene isn't just a cool song or a well-animated performance; it's a statement of intent.

It's a promise that she isn't here to be a friendly rival to our heroines or act as a mini-boss for their journey to the top. Wien means business, and she is here to dominate with every fiber of her being. She will belt out an operatic ode to her own power to change destiny, proclaiming herself one of the chosen ones born to conquer the world of music through pure talent. It's a delicious moment so over-the-top it could easily be in a space opera, with Wien singing as the evil empire rains down laser fire upon our hapless heroes' hometown. That she's doing all this for what amounts to an online talent show gives it that extra dash of absurdity to put it over the top. It's a perfect crystallization of what Love Live can do at its best, but all devoted to an idol supervillain, making for a jaw-dropping moment for newbies and long-time fans alike. There were a lot of great musical moments this year, from Healer Girl to Bocchi the Rock, but nothing could compare to the sheer impact of this edgelord ballerina pirouetting all over the good guys' hopes and dreams.

© Akiba Maid War Production Committee

Even a mere few minutes in, it's relatively apparent what the core comical conceit of Akiba Maid War is: crossing a slice-of-life comedy about working at a maid café with a gritty yakuza crime drama. There are a few solid jokes along this line early on—the backpack-wearing otaku shaking down the café for his cut of the profits and a maid getting a pigtail cut off as punishment (rather than a finger) for her failure—but it's the first episode's musical climax that sets the stage for what you're really in for.

Escaping from a rival maid café after killing its boss, our heroines Ranko and Nagomi are pursued by dozens of armed bunny maids. After taking a bullet to the arm and realizing that running is no longer an option, Ranko turns on the mob... and brutally murders each and every one of them in a scene of over-the-top ultra-violence that may be one of the funniest things ever animated.

Not only is there a poppy idol song providing the soundtrack, but the entire fight is also choreographed to match it. Ranko's gunshots match the song's beat, and her gun-kata is a collection of popular idol fan dance moves. Meanwhile, the bunny maids' knives flash like glowsticks, reflecting the florescent lights of the Akihabara streets, and their bodies fall like fainting fangirls (though with copious amounts of blood gushing from the bullet holes in their heads). But best of all is Nagomi's face of horror as she gets covered in ridiculous amounts of blood from the scene of death exploding all around her.

I have watched this scene literally hundreds of times at this point. I still laugh every time. It is surrealism at its best, and the way it subverts expectations is glorious. This scene alone makes the entire anime worth watching.

Runners Up:

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury – “Nice to Meet You, My Groom”
The Eminence in Shadow – “I Am Atomic”
Cyberpunk: Edgerunners – The Moon Date

© BS TV TOKYO Corporation All rights reserved.

Many coming-out narratives, particularly in children's fiction, can feel very heavy-handed. Waccha PriMagi mostly manages to avoid this ham-handedness as it tells Amane's story; almost from the moment she was introduced, viewers could make a few educated guesses based on her Takarazuka-style performance and her general aesthetic. But episode thirty-two takes things a step more apparent, and it does it in a way that does not feel overdone. A large part of why Amane even started performing (if not the entirety of the reason) was her relationship with Midoriko, an older girl at school. Up to this point, it was easy to extrapolate that Amane had romantic feelings for Midoriko. Still, episode thirty-two shows her accepting that fact in a way that she previously had not been able to. Her feelings become almost literal chains that hold her down, preventing her from moving forward because she cannot accept who she is and who she likes. When she finally does, she can break free and become a better performer and more confident person than before. It's less about her coming out and more about accepting and loving herself for who she is. That's an important message, particularly in a franchise aimed at children, but also a warm and reassuring moment. Amane isn't coming out to anyone except herself and realizing that by truly accepting and appreciating herself, she can be her whole self.

© Akihito Tsukushi・Takeshobo／Made in Abyss: The Golden City of the Scorching Sun Production Committee

Although technically not a “moment” due to taking up two entire episodes, the flashback sequence in the second season of Made in Abyss is easily the most memorable part of the show. Irumyuui's wish is the culmination of a long series of funeral processions, a twisted glimmer of hope that only ushers further tragedy in the end. In true Made in Abyss fashion, Irumyuui's transformation leans fully into body horror, but what's especially upsetting are the short-lived lives of her grotesque children. Just when I thought that nothing in this series could surprise me anymore, this flashback wrecked my heart and stomach all over again.

© Akihito Tsukushi・Takeshobo／Made in Abyss: The Golden City of the Scorching Sun Production Committee

In a story crafted like the one in Made in Abyss's second season, there's always the potential to fall into the trap of reaching for too much nuance. Not that Made in Abyss is a series renowned for its subtlety, but its matter-of-fact nature in approaching its content could lead one astray. And so, as the Golden City's story wore on, I expected the narrative would go the 'safer' route of reaching for some compromise between spurned vengeance-child Faputa and the city of Abyss-born Hollows she sought to destroy. The thing is, as much as I could come to like a few of the denizens introduced in this plot, the sheer horror of the village's backstory (really, par for the course for Made in Abyss) made it way too easy to agree with Faputa that the whole horrible nest that had been colonized off the backs of the cannibalized abortion-corpses of a forsaken child maaaaaaaybe did deserve just to be burned to the ground. And lo and behold, that's precisely where Golden City wound up going by the very end, the narrative aligning itself with Faputa's quest to avenge the absolute horror show that her poor mother experienced. Even the few freaks from the village we'd been endeared to offered themselves as delicious tribute. It was bold vindication as only a series like Made in Abyss could have been expected to commit to, rewarding all of us who had seen Faputa rip and tear her way through the setting in a bloody fury and responded only with an earnest "Good for her!"

© Tatsuki Fujimoto/Shueisha • MAPPA

Like everyone else on the planet, I've had lots of thoughts on how the Chainsaw Man anime has chosen to adapt the (in my opinion) nearly unimpeachable manga. While there are still decisions I quibble with, overall, I've grown more impressed with its tack with each passing episode. This is due in no small part to its anime-original embellishments, which I'm pleased to see have been skewed toward the narrative's quieter and more character-focused moments. My favorite is Himeno drunkenly stumbling around her apartment at the end of episode 7/beginning of episode 8. The anime stretches this scene into slow cinema, taking extra care languishing the minutiae of her movements and the mood of her apartment. In a satisfyingly indulgent decision, it reanimates certain portions of this scene for the follow-up episode, essentially taking twice the effort necessary to depict Himeno oh-so-lovingly spitting beer into Denji's mouth. It's patient, hot, meandering, and perfect. It gives Himeno's layered personality extra space to shine (even in her booze-addled state) and pairs meaningfully with Aki's morning routine from a few episodes back. In a highly anticipated high-profile adaptation, this is the kind of confidence I want to see—not merely following the letter of the source manga but seizing the opportunity to draw the right mood out of a different medium.

© Tatsuki Fujimoto/Shueisha • MAPPA

I have already written (and podcasted, Tweeted, and raved in my personal life) many, many words on how impressive Chainsaw Man's commitment to its cinematic aesthetic has been this season. There isn't a single moment that has demonstrated that aesthetic more clearly than this anime's original addition to CSM's fourth episode. Animation is a costly and time-consuming art form; every single second of movement you see on-screen is the result of a ridiculous amount of money and man-hours. It makes sense that most shows don't go out of their way to expend so much of their precious time and budget on scenes that are ostensibly unrelated to anything “important” in the story. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll get some cheap, static pillow shots that enhance the flow of the edit, but then it's usually back to the action, voice-over, and constant need to keep things moving that defines a lot of anime, especially the action-oriented ones.

Yet, here, Chainsaw Man has the good sense to slow things down after the relentless carnage of Denji's recent two-on-one battle against the Bat Devil and the Leech Devil and ensure we get the time to properly understand who the newest addition to the cast really is. We spend several minutes of pure, wonderful silence with Aki as he carefully brushes his teeth, prepares his morning coffee, and enjoys a moment on his balcony to himself, with nothing more than a newspaper and a fresh cigarette to keep him company. It instantly paints a portrait of a well-put-together but lonely man who is at once Denji's complete opposite while still sharing in our hero's fundamental sense of isolation. It's the kind of pure cinema that you rarely get to see in a lot of modern movies anymore, much less animated television shows, and it has been playing on a loop in my brain ever since it aired.

© George Asakura・Shogakukan／Dance Dance Danseur Production Committee

This might have been my most challenging pick for this year's list. There were a ton of stand-out moments in this season alone. Dabi finally reveals his identity to Endeavor, the assassination of Division 4 in Chainsaw Man, and Ranko getting squished in an elevator in Akiba Maid War were all contenders for drama, comedy, and in the case of Chainsaw Man, expert sound design. By comparison, Dance Dance Danseur might be remembered only by five other people and me on Twitter, but Luou's emotionally compelling performance as Rothbart was amazing on a technical and musical level. Until this point, Luou was a tightly-wound ballet prodigy who focused on exacting execution over emotionally embodying the characters. In episode five, Jumpei goes completely off-script during their final ballet duo and, through his improvisation, brings out a startling dark performance from Luou punctuated by frantic brushstrokes and movement. We see this isolated kid come to embody all the darkness he feels from abandonment, abuse, and pressure burst forth, and it's magnificent to behold.