The creative failure towards the end is something I have come to expect from from most pieces of fiction that try too hard to sound too deep, even in so-called “literature” – looking at you, Camus. This “creative failure” I am referring to can be illustrated through this hypothetical conversation of actors adhering perfectly to the moral standpoint of Habermasian discourse ethics:

Me: Why do I still not know what the hell has been going on during these many hours I’ve invested in comprehending this story?
Artist: We weren’t sure about what we should explain at the end, so we left the explanations to your imagination! Isn’t that incredibly clever?
Me: No.

Endings that leave most of the plot unfinished are barely worthy of being called “endings”. At best they’re new beginnings (in the case of books and anime, second and third tomes and seasons abound), at worst they’re annoying displays of lack of creative prowess. Artists, if you’re to open an intricate sub-plot, consider that an ending that explains the many questions raised by your story is by far preferable to one that explains little. Fleshing out existing sub-plots is sometimes preferable to opening many that you might leave unclosed at the end.

A bad ending doesn’t make the whole of a creative work bad. On the other hand, a good ending is necessary for any plot-centric work of art to be great. A truly outstanding ending can make a mediocre story into a masterpiece in a few instants. Elfen Lied could have been great if it had a fully satisfying ending. This obviously raises the question: “But just what is a satisfying ending?” I believe there is no better way to illustrate this than through specific examples, two animes to keep in line with me putting this post in the Anime/Manga category. You should possibly not read and will not understand the following if you haven’t seen the two animes in question.

Chobits: a contemporary fairy tale of sorts, Chobits ends with all main characters in a specific and understandable situation, and all important mysteries are untangled. The ending feels like a proper ending, without any character being blatantly left out of the plot’s end for no apparently reason. The pacing remains fairly consistent throughout the whole of the anime, including the last few episodes.

Saikano: the antithesis of the above, its ending is probably the most beautifully sad, the most coherently empty piece of fiction I know of. This is an example of an ending that completely transformed my perception of the preceding story. Not much is explained, but what is indeed explained annihilates the need for any further explanations. The creativity displayed in the last few minutes unravels the plot in a way that puts it in a category of its own.

Two love stories, purely out of personal preference for the genre. They end in near-opposite ways, and have few common aspects. One thing they do have in common is an outstanding ending. The key to good endings doesn’t inherently require a story to belong to one genre or another, or to talk about something specific. It simply requires every important question raised by the story to be answered at the end somewhat coherently, or that the need for any such questions be ultimately undermined by an extremely clever plot device. If you can’t end the sub-plots you start in a satisfying manner, refrain from starting them in the first place.

Based on a light novel series by the creator of Kure-nai, Denpa teki na Kanojo, roughly translated as “Electromagnetic Girlfriend” according to some random website, didn’t receive the attention it deserves in my opinion. That can be partially explained by the fact that it is an OVA series, but also, I believe, by the regrettable tendency of bloggers to compare it with anime such as Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (which I couldn’t stand) that are at first glance of the same genre.

However, if Denpa teki na Kanojo is indeed a thriller centered around a murder mystery, its approach is fundamentally different from that of any other franchise I have knowledge of. That is, unlike other psychological thrillers, it does not attempt to create an intriguing plot regardless of how many inconsistencies it might create, but rather delves deep into insanity, effectively making most claims of plot holes void. The “villains” aren’t presented as either mysterious, transcendent entities, fundamentally evil geniuses or stereotypical delinquents. They are simply batshit insane. And quite realistically so, I’d add. The first episode does start with a rape scene and the series features brutal, quite graphic murder later on though; it is not for the faint-hearted.

The thrill of watching Denpa teki na Kanojo therefore does not originate chiefly from the plot. It is a result of the unusual, inherently conflictual psyché of the characters. The quintessential illustration of this concept can be found in the relationship between Ochibana Ame – one of the most fascinating characters in a while – and Juuzawa Juu. Not only does it add a touch of humour and romance to an otherwise somewhat grim story, it also provides impressive character development for two 40-minute OVAs (a third episode is in the works as I write these lines). That aspect, namely the psychological and relational evolution of the characters, might in fact be overall the true strength of the series.

Notwithstanding the above, this anime also manages to be highly visually appealing, characters and landscapes alike, courtesy of the studio Brain’s Base. As I am against the use of screenshots on personal blogs, both as a means of contesting “intellectual property” and simply to avoid spoilers and unnecessary work on my part, I shall direct these who wish to preview the visuals of the series towards relevant resources.