US Distributor: Lucky Penny Entertainment
Production Studio: Brain's Base
Was this provided by the publisher? Yes
More Info: Anime News Network
While the name Sengoku Collection remains generally unknown in North America, it’s kind of a big thing in Japan. The franchise began as a mobile game by Konami, and told the tale of an alternate version of Sengoku-era Japan.
In the game’s world, military masters battle for control over the nation. To reach this goal, players must gather the legendary “God of War” cards, which are sealed in hidden treasures across the land. Through the course of the game, players clear quests, battle bosses, and deal with the mighty generals, themselves.
Did I mention that, in this world, the generals are presented as attractive women? I’ll let that sink in for a minute.
Absurdity aside, the game ballooned in popularity, eventually reaching 2.5 million active users. To capitalize on the franchise’s popularity, Brain’s Base was commissioned to produce an anime series based on the property. Rather than take the easy way out, the studio opted to craft an original program that uses the characters to build their own vision of the universe.
Sengoku Collection begins in a world that could easily be ripped from Japan’s Warring States period. Numerous generals battle for supremacy, each with their own vision for a unified realm. The battle was at its peak. The factions were readying for the last push, the last assault that would decide the fate of the world. Then, something mysterious happened. The generals, the leaders of the charge, simply disappeared. Even the great Oda Nobunaga just vanished into the aether.
The generals were spirited away, to a world very much unlike their own. This strange place, called “Japan” has horseless carriages and magic boxes that send moving pictures. There are convenience stores and skyscrapers, cell phones and supermarkets. It’s a mysterious realm, and the way back is uncertain. These great leaders now face a choice: they can try to find their way back to their homes to finish the fight, or they can use this as a chance to start anew, and find their true callings.
To put it simply, Sengoku Collection is an anthology show. Each episode tells a self-contained story that revolves around one of the leading ladies.
At its best, Sengoku Collection is a sublime watch. The show’s strongest episodes tell intimate, personal tales of a world greater than the characters. Each episode is told differently, with the tone and pacing tweaked to match the star of the week. Episodes cover the entire spectrum of genres, from a touching story of a struggling café, to a hard-boiled tale of betrayal and vengeance in a women’s prison.
On the flip side, Sengoku Collection, at its worst, is utterly forgettable. A number of episodes fail to hit home, either due to offbeat pacing, an unlikeable lead, or a situation that just doesn’t mesh well with the format. This can particularly be felt near the show’s finale, as the writers desperately try to find some way to tie the countless plots together into one coherent send-off. The end result works, but there is certainly a sense that something is lacking.
The general sense of inadequacy extends to the show’s visual style. While it’s implied that the warriors’ candy-colored hair and generally flamboyant outfits were meant to serve as a distinction from average people, they really seem to destroy any semblance of a coherent visual language. It’s a shame, given that the show’s backgrounds and cinematography are nothing short of sublime. The backgrounds are gorgeous and varied, with some episodes taking a watercolor style, others using an airy colored pencil motif. The use of color in the scenery is simply remarkable.
Sengoku Collection credits 16 animation directors for the show, each of whom left their distinct marks on the episodes they handled. Every chapter of the series, every installment is carefully framed and shot, with an effective use of mise-en-scene to give the world a truly “lived in” feeling. There are hallmarks of each director, from the camera positions, to the choices of establishing shots, that make each episode seem like a unique and special experience.
The show’s atmosphere is helped immensely but a wonderful soundtrack. Composer Tomoki Kikuya (Hidamari Sketch, Pani Poni Dash!) was tasked with giving each episode of Sengoku Collection its own identity and flavor. He succeeds magnificently, with a soundtrack that seems perfectly tailored to each episode’s needs, whether it’s a delicate piano melody, a twangy guitar ditty, or a jazzy horn riff. The second opening theme and first ending theme are bouncy and energetic, though ultimately forgettable. Their counterparts, first opening Me o Tojite Gyusshiyo and second closer, Darling to Madonna, on the other hand, are fun synth-rock songs that grab the viewer’s attention.
Despite Sengoku Collection‘s high points, it’s difficult to really recommend the title wholesale. There’s a lot to love, but the anthology format invites too many lazy, forgettable episodes that kill the show’s impact. Had the series been roughly half its length, and the visual style refined a bit, it could have been the next Seraphim Call or Sentimental Journey. As it is now, though, Sengoku Collection is a flawed series, whose faults hold it back from becoming truly great.
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