It took a lot of time and effort, but I really enjoyed making this list. I've been looking forward to doing so for nearly as long as I've been an anime fan, since I spent a lot of time reading Anime of the Decade (2000–2009) lists when I was starting out and always looking for recommendations. It feels a little unreal now that it's finally done. Glad to be able to share it here; thank you very much to Printer Paper 8 X 11 for running this poll on top of the AOTY one!
All images below are links to 720p screencaps.
Anime TV Series
1. Mushishi: Next Passage – A timeless masterpiece of storytelling, art, and music; Mushishi is without peer in its particular domain. Ginko, the only recurring character, travels premodern Japan helping those affected by Mushi, a mysterious form of life invisible to most people. The Mushi serve various narrative roles, both externalizing emotional phenomena and representing the relationship between humans and nature. They are alternately horrifying and a source of wonder; a cause, and solution, to different people's problems. Like life, they defy easy description, allowing Mushishi to turn its simple premise to drama, fantasy, mystery, horror, and other genres. Each episode faithfully adapts a chapter of Yuki Urushibara's manga, often panel by panel, but surpasses the original by extending the quiet moments between scenes of dialogue, immersing viewers in its world through gorgeous art and incredible background music. It's a study in economical storytelling, repeatedly crafting deeply moving narratives around characters we see for less than 22 minutes. There are devastating endings, hopeful endings, and—in the very best episodes—both at once. Steeped in Japanese folklore while speaking to universal human experiences, Mushishi exemplifies the creative potential of anime. The first season already stood among the greatest of all time, but to return after eight years with no drop in quality was an outstanding achievement in its own right.
2. Puella Magi Madoka Magica – There are anime I love more for the joy of witnessing artists at the top of their craft and anime I love more for the emotional reactions they elicit. All my favorites appeal to me on both levels, but no series is more perfectly balanced between them than Madoka Magica. It looks and sounds amazing, with an immediately recognizable design sense, just the right degree of director Akiyuki Shinbo's avant garde style, and some of the best music of Yuki Kajiura's incredible career. It unfolds with the precise pacing and structure of a really long yet invigorating film, allowing all the characters development and moments to shine. But it's Homura specifically who made Madoka Magica a serious contender for number one. I don't claim "Homura did nothing wrong": no deeply traumatized teenager without a support system is equipped to always make the right choice in such desperate circumstances. She's sympathetic for the strength of her determination—her backstory is revealed in my favorite individual episode of the decade—but she's admirable for her ability to ultimately grow from her experience (which she does in the show; don't @ me about Rebellion). Few thriller anime can equal even one of Madoka Magica's strengths; none are so good on so many fronts.
3. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood – Like many fans, I started out watching a lot of worldbuilding-heavy battle anime. Brotherhood was only the fourth series I finished—the first from the 2010s. My tastes have shifted over the years, but after a recent rewatch I feel confident calling it anime's greatest fantasy epic and one of the best series of all time. More than any other anime I've seen, FMA's invented world feels real and lived in. Technical worldbuilding details account for only part of this; more important is the development given to characters from so many walks of life. Close to half the cast are involved with the military in some capacity, but original creator Hiromu Arakawa took the unusual step of telling an action-adventure story about soldiers of a genocidal military dictatorship having to face a moral reckoning. While the Elric brothers are the emotional core of the series, there are dozens of other characters with distinct arcs, any of whom could be a compelling protagonist in the right story (though only Roy Mustang is objectively best boy). There are too many cheer-worthy moments to recount, but perhaps the highest praise I can give Brotherhood is that the godawful chibi gags don't diminish its status as a classic in my eyes. That takes nigh-transcendent greatness.
4. Erased – After several years of relative disengagement from anime, watching Erased was like falling in love all over again. Satoru, an involuntary mental time traveler, finds himself 18 years in the past, just before the murders of several fellow elementary schoolers. Working from what he remembers, he tries to change events by befriending the victims so they're less vulnerable and alone. Few works in any genre so convincingly depict the emotional isolation common in abused children or the overwhelming sensation of feeling safe around others for the first time. While it's often tense and exciting, Erased's best scene is the simple but beautiful moment a child wakes up to a home-cooked meal (courtesy GOAT anime mom Sachiko) for the first time. The ending is the weakest link, but I think objections that the killer's identity was too obvious are misplaced: Erased is more interested in using its premise as a vehicle for character study than in being hard to predict. With the series' emotional climax in episode nine, the final quarter almost feels like an epilogue, though not a bad one. I'm always a sucker for stories about overcoming abuse, but Erased is told with unusual maturity, accompanied by excellent animation, a beautifully atmospheric Yuki Kajiura score, and an all-time great opening theme.
5. Ping Pong the Animation – Screencaps cannot do justice to Ping Pong. Whether or not you enjoy the art style, there's no substitute for seeing it in motion—not just the character animation, but the dynamic backgrounds, creative use of multiple angles, and superb comedic timing. It is, quite simply, one of the most visually impressive TV anime of all time, as well as my favorite story in director Masaaki Yuasa's filmography. Over eleven episodes, Ping Pong explores in depth its cast of high school prodigies and their emotional lives in and out of competition. Crucially, ping pong itself is not treated as an afterthought to the drama. Each character has their own complicated relationship with the sport as well as with other players, and the question of what sports should mean to the people who compete in them forms the thematic backbone of the series. The matches are both thrilling action sequences and crucial moments of character development, helping the show build to one of the most satisfying endings in anime despite its brief runtime. Add in the amazing music, including one of my three favorite opening themes of the decade (alongside Mushishi and Erased), and you have an instant classic I would rank even higher on a list that downplayed subjective factors.
6. Usagi Drop – At the intersection of family dramas and stories of found families lies Usagi Drop, a wholesome anime which came from space and has no connection to the identically-named manga that went disastrously off the rails in its second half. When 30-year-old salesman Daikichi learns his late grandfather had a secret illegitimate daughter, he's the only member of his extended family not to shun the girl as a source of shame. Against opposition, he takes in his six-year-old aunt, Rin, but faces an uphill battle finding a sustainable work–life balance, navigating educational bureaucracy, and building mutual trust with his newest family member. Usagi Drop is largely about the transformative effects of parenthood, but it gradually rehabilitates much of Daikichi's biological family as they come around to Rin, and also has a lot to say about the importance of close relationships we choose. The show takes a gentle approach to storytelling, focusing on the goodness the characters bring out in each other's everyday lives, perfectly complemented by the pastel art style and fluid but unflashy animation. While most episodes have little tension, that's not a flaw here. Usagi Drop remains the gold standard for slice of life and iyashikei (healing) anime in this—or possibly any—decade.
7. The Promised Neverland – Reading a synopsis of the The Promised Neverland, easily my favorite of 2019's impressive class of shounen manga adaptations, is enough to "spoil" the first episode twist, but fortunately this does nothing to make the show less exciting. On one level, Neverland has a familiar domesticity even after revealing the stakes of its story. The dawning realization that the world is often disturbing, the thrill of keeping (what you think are) secrets from adults, and dreaming up dubiously plausible plans to run away from home are all recognizable experiences for me and, I think, many others. But Neverland is as good at ratcheting up tension as any horror thriller anime out there. This juxtaposition—fighting for your life by making rope from bedsheets and hiding contraband beneath loose floorboards—is key to what makes the show so gripping. There's an equally great cast of memorable and engaging characters, particularly Emma, one of the best child protagonists in any recent media. The score, by debutante composer Takahiro Obata, is top-notch in both exciting and emotional moments. Everything comes together perfectly for a satisfying finale while leaving a strong enough hook to make the second season one of my most anticipated upcoming anime.
8. Land of the Lustrous – No studio did more to push forward computer-generated anime this decade than Orange with their magnum opus, Land of the Lustrous. Well-regarded CG anime had previously closely imitated the look of hand-drawn animation; most attempts to do something different ended poorly (Gankutsuou notwithstanding). Orange developed an innovative visual style that, for the first time, could stand alongside traditional techniques as a distinct but equally meritorious craft. Of course, it helps that Land of the Lustrous tells a great story. Most of the characters are Gems, immortal beings in a distant future, each named for the mineral their body is made from. Their existence is largely defined by fighting the implacable Lunarians, though there's ample time given for characterization and even some comic relief—the latter often at the expense of the youngest, Phos, at least in the early stages of their character development. (The Gems are agender, so the official translation uses the singular they.) The show makes extensive use of Buddhist imagery and reveals pieces of fascinating worldbuilding and spiritual concepts, but unfortunately ends on a classic "read the manga" hook. Even so, Land of the Lustrous is top-tier anime: beautifully crafted, equally adept at action and drama, with a fantastic score to boot.
9. Bloom Into You – I don't ask much of LGBT anime romances: anything that moves beyond subtext without glorifying abuse is heartening. Bloom Into You delivers this while complicating its leads' relationship in interesting ways. Yuu is (probably) demiromantic and questions whether she can love anyone. Touko has crippling self-esteem issues and asks Yuu for a pseudo-relationship on the condition she not fall in love, as being with someone who doesn't love her back allows Touko a measure of intimacy without too much guilt. This is not a healthy or sustainable dynamic, but Bloom Into You embraces the idea that love arises organically as people grow closer, rather than appearing fully formed. Both girls are changed by their time together, so their relationship must change in turn—and does, in the second half of Nio Nakatani's manga, which has yet to be adapted. The anime's abrupt non-ending cost it the top spot on my 2018 list, but I chose not to penalize it here rather than leave my favorite romance of the decade out of the top ten. Bloom Into You also deserves recognition for its art, closely following Nakatani's work, and its depiction of an adult lesbian relationship between supporting characters. A true gem even without a second season.
10. Vinland Saga – Fathers loom large in this tale of the Viking Age. Vinland Saga has no shortage of fight scenes and political intrigue, much of it circling around the conflict between Danish King Sweyn and his son Canute, but it truly shines as an intelligent and nuanced character study. The protagonist, Thorfinn, is defined primarily by his relationships with two men: his father, Thors; and Thors' killer, Askeladd. The depiction of trauma is exceptional: the teenage Thorfinn is never presented as brooding in a cool way, but rather as an emotionally broken child incapable of normal interaction and terrified of anything that distracts from his goal of revenge. But it's Askeladd who elevates the series to greatness as he becomes the closest thing Thorfinn has to a father figure. Their dynamic together, along with the gradual reveal of Askeladd's layers of personality and his own complicated family history, make him one of the most fascinating characters of the decade. Accompanied by an excellent soundtrack, the climax of the first season is better than many series finales, but for Vinland Saga is merely "the end of the prologue." If it stays anywhere near this good, it will be a shoo-in for best of the 2020s lists as well.
11. Fate/Zero – Fate/stay night has a great conceit—historical and legendary figures summoned by mages fight in a secret war for a Holy Grail that can grant any wish—and hints of a fascinating larger world, but is limited by its high school setting and harem romance subplots. Thankfully, its potential was realized by Fate/Zero, which features an adult cast and far greater storytelling ambitions. After an exposition-heavy first episode, the show deftly balances a multitude of subplots and develops its massive cast of characters remarkably well in only 25 episodes, while studio Ufotable and composer Yuki Kajiura elevated the franchise to new heights of artistry. While the story is often described as nihilistic, I don't think it presents an utterly hopeless universe. Being a prequel, we know things will not end well, but Fate/Zero is more about the failure of ideals than of people. To be clear, most people fail in this series, but those who salvage some semblance of happiness do so by realizing the value in human relationships even when you can't change the world. There's no guarantee this happiness won't be snatched away, but it's still meaningful. That, to me, is a crucial message which keeps Fate/Zero from just being edgy for its own sake.
12. After the Rain – The premise of a 17-year-old girl infatuated with her 45-year-old manager attracts understandable side-eye, but After the Rain mostly avoids skeeviness to tell an understated, emotionally realistic human drama. Romantic attraction is only part of the characters' dynamic, lessening in importance as the story progresses. Much of the show is about their reasons for working in dead-end service sector jobs and the dreams they repress while there. As someone who spent years in retail without long-term goals (and briefly dated a much older manager), I found After the Rain highly compelling. It doesn't ignore uncomfortable questions about age-difference relationships—Akira, the high-schooler, seemingly wants a father figure as much as anything else—but examines them in a sensitive and nonjudgmental way. Nothing more physically intimate than hugging occurs and the show leaves the future deliberately ambiguous. I'm sure this is a different experience if it's not personally resonant, but I think quality writing can be appreciated regardless. It's also worth watching for the visuals. Wit Studio, best known for their action series, worked in brief but striking fantasy sequences while spending just as much care animating everyday scenes. In its own quiet way, After the Rain is one of the best dramas in recent years.
13. Sound! Euphonium – I was caught off-guard by Euphonium's ambition. Kyoto Animation proved their versatility a long time ago, but the promotional art seemed to suggest a music-themed moe show more than a played straight drama. While neither is inherently better than the other, I'm glad they took the latter approach with this story of a foundering high school concert band attempting to regain success in national competition. Much of what I love about Euphonium boils down to how real it feels. The beautiful background art, largely based on locations in KyoAni's hometown of Uji, and stellar animation in the band's performance scenes help give everything a sense of tangibility. The number of characters we get to know is more typical of long-running adventure series, but this breadth does not preclude introspection and significant development for the main cast. While Euphonium lays the interpersonal drama on pretty thick, I think it's a realistic, if heightened, depiction of adolescents trying to make sense of their emotions and identities at an age that's confusing for most people. The show's queerbaiting rankles, but that's only stuck with me because I got invested in the characters, and it was still heartening to get an actual conclusion to a TV anime.
14. Hinamatsuri – In perhaps the greatest balancing act of the decade, Hinamatsuri, which made me laugh more times per episode than any other comedy, also features one of the most emotional and socially conscious story arcs to be found outside of serious dramas. The premise is pure slapstick: Hina, a telekinetic girl from the future, suddenly appears in a yakuza's apartment and freeloads off him under threat of destroying his collection of expensive vases. This concept is executed well, but the depth of Hinamatsuri's cast distinguishes it from other comedies driven by characters acting like idiots and assholes. The clear standout is Anzu, another girl from the future who arrives in pursuit of Hina but finds herself struggling to get by on the streets. Her relationships with other homeless characters and her later difficulty adjusting to having a home are genuinely moving while only briefly interrupting the steady stream of jokes, all without denigrating anyone. The rest of the show remains consistently excellent. Hina herself is the least interesting character, but all the core cast receive meaningful development in the course of being stuck in humorous situations. Hinamatsuri melds its emotional and comedic sides almost seamlessly to make one of my favorite comedies in all of anime.
15. Silver Spoon – Even though it's based on a manga by Fullmetal Alchemist creator Hiromu Arakawa, I was surprised how much I enjoyed Silver Spoon. Set at an agricultural high school in Arakawa's native Hokkaido, I expected a standard high school comedy with a slight farming theme, but it became one of my favorite coming of age series. The plot has faint echoes of Only Yesterday (always an encouraging comparison!) as failed prep school student Yuugo retreats to the countryside to escape his overbearing father. While Silver Spoon bears an obvious fondness for the agricultural profession, it presents an unromanticized view of both the positives and negatives of rural life. It likewise nails the shifts between hilarity and putting its characters in tough emotional situations, with less tonal whiplash than Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Becoming more competent as he learns about farm life is an integral part of Yuugo's faltering journey towards self-respect, but his story can resonate with many different adolescent experiences. This unassuming little series, which spent much of its first episode on Yuugo's horror at learning chickens poop and lay eggs through the same orifice, turned out to be one of the most emotionally realistic and heartwarming teen dramedies in recent anime.
16. Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju – Anime's answer to peak TV. Few series since Monster combine such masterful drama and characterization with so few stereotypically anime traits (one conversation in the final episode notwithstanding). Part of me thinks I should rank Rakugo much higher; though my less arthouse favorites (and the aforementioned conversation) kept it in this tier, it is a truly special series. In a story spanning some eighty years, we follow multiple generations of practitioners of the titular art form, wherein a single performer with minimal props narrates and plays all the roles in a variety of short tales. The declining public profile of rakugo is a defining concern for many characters, but for as outwardly conservative as some of them are, the show has a distinctly subversive streak. The main character, Kikuhiko, is introduced as a traditionalist elder figure, strictly in favor of the norm against female performers, but we learn that he himself used rakugo as an outlet for gender nonconformity. In keeping with the peak TV analogy, Rakugo deals with heavy subject matter and deeply flawed characters. As a human drama, it's never less than spellbinding, to say nothing of the onstage performances themselves. Breathtakingly ambitious and deeply emotional, Rakugo is among the decade's highest peaks.
17. The Eccentric Family – P.A.Works solidified their reputation this decade with original series featuring cute character designs, outstanding background art, and a thematic preoccupation with the decline of small-town Japan. (My favorite of their originals, Nagi no Asukara, just barely missed this list.) In comparison, The Eccentric Family, based on a novel by the author of The Tatami Galaxy, has an urban setting and less conventionally moe character designs, but themes of old Japan's place in new Japan remain important. The titular Shimogamo family, a down-on-their-luck tanuki clan who use their shapeshifting ability to spend most of their time in human form, are forced to navigate the internal politics of Kyoto's supernatural community while mourning the death of their father and avoiding being eaten by the ominous Friday Fellows. True to its name, The Eccentric Family is a delightfully weird show, though it may come across as weirder than intended if you're unfamiliar with tanuki folklore (see Isao Takahata's Pom Poko for a relatively quick primer). The series as a whole leans more towards comedy than drama, but the prevailing quirkiness helps the two modes blend together naturally, investing even the most whimsical elements with a surprising degree of emotional depth and maintaining a spirit of adventure throughout.
18. Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai – Roger Ebert used to talk about sometimes giving higher ratings to good schlock than to objectively superior films in more prestigious genres when the former succeed at what they try to do. I thought about this while questioning why I ranked a show with "bunny girl" in the title this high. It wouldn't feature in a list of prestige dramas, but I've tried to evaluate different kinds of shows on equal footing. Rascal is sometimes criticized for its similarities to other school life light novel adaptations—there is, admittedly, a sense of unreality from having seen everything before—but I think it compares favorably to its competition. Even though it didn't invent the idea of manifesting teen angst as supernatural afflictions, its emotions feel more genuine than usual. It's easier to care about the romance when the protagonist is a decent and reasonable person, his love interest can express affection, and they have chemistry together. While Rascal is not above pandering in ways I dislike more in other genres, I think it deserves recognition as one of the best shows of its kind, telling a surprisingly mature and sometimes moving story with less fanservice and harem shenanigans than the title suggests.
19. March Comes in Like a Lion – Shows with gorgeous art, exceptional animation, and nuanced depictions of depression are what I live for in anime, yet it took me three tries to get into March Comes in Like a Lion. The story of Rei, a deeply depressed shogi prodigy, and his gradually expanding found family is unquestionably among the decade's most impressive series and has all the pieces of a personal top ten favorite as well, but it doesn't quite gel for me. While the show feels incredibly bleak at times, it knows when to include moments of respite. There are scenes that hit incredibly hard, like Rei's admission that he lets his foster sister verbally abuse him because he thinks he deserves it, but this makes witnessing the love and support he receives from other characters all the more nourishing to the soul. I think the goofy anime humor clashes with the heavier elements (not unlike Honey and Clover, Chica Umino's other major work) and the proliferation of subplots, not all of them equally interesting, leaves some important characters shortchanged down the stretch, but these complaints are outweighed by the show's positives. While I think March could have been even better, I can't talk about great recent anime without mentioning it.
20. Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun – The token yonkoma (four panel) manga adaptation on this list, Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun is a bit of an outlier. Yonkoma manga tend to employ a rapid-fire comedic style in order to deliver a punchline on every page, which carries over into anime adaptations. While Nozaki-kun has more of a unifying plot to each episode than some of its peers, the series as a whole is light on character development or an overarching narrative. It became an unlikely favorite of mine largely on the strength of its premise. The titular Nozaki, a basketball-loving high schooler who moonlights as a popular shoujo romance manga artist, misinterprets his classmate Sakura's attempted love confession as a fan's request for an autograph, leading her to discover his secret and become one of his assistants. They have a cute dynamic together, though it's potentially misleading to call Nozaki-kun a romantic comedy since the attraction is one-sided and Sakura never manages to complete her confession. The show keeps things fresh with an endearing cast of supporting characters and plays with gender roles in clever ways. Its jokes are consistently funny, the upbeat opening theme never fails to make me grin, and it's a great "comfort food" anime for any number of moods.
21. House of Five Leaves – As a period piece with a samurai protagonist who does very little sword fighting, House of Five Leaves might be a hard sell for some—it's by far the most obscure series listed here—but I think it's well worth the time of anyone interested in introspective, character-driven stories. The series follows Masa, a highly skilled but socially anxious ronin, as he inadvertently becomes involved in a kidnapping ring. He decides to stick around the group, partially because its members appear to be at least slightly chivalrous thieves, but largely because he marvels at and is drawn to the self-assuredness of their leader. Despite his anxiety, Masa wants to understand people and persists in asking questions well past others' points of comfort. Compared to the multitude of anime which derive drama from characters refusing to confide in each other, House of Five Leaves provides a breath of fresh air by building its entire story around one character's insistence on expressing his thoughts and feelings, which ultimately has positive knock-on effects for the relatively repressed people around him. In the course of twelve episodes, House of Five Leaves develops its entire cast into fully-realized characters and pulls all its plot strings together into a pitch-perfect ending.
22. The Tatami Galaxy – I talk about "arthouse anime" more than I should use any term so fuzzily defined, but in a pinch I can always point to The Tatami Galaxy as a case study. Though far from his most experimental work, director Masaaki Yuasa's nontraditional visual style is a natural fit for this surreal comedy following an unnamed college student across parallel universes as he joins various student groups in search of his ideal campus life. The show, narrated by the protagonist, recounts events through a heavily subjective filter. Bicycle impounding, for example, is depicted as an international conspiracy since its consequences felt calamitous. The art reflects this too: certain characters are drawn with inhuman traits depending on how the protagonist perceives them. Beneath the elaborate staging, the depiction of a young adult repeatedly failing to find happiness because he can't give up his preconceived idea of what it should look like is an incisive critique of a very real behavior. This realness makes the show uncomfortable to watch in places, even when it's hilarious. Fortunately, as an adaptation of a single novel, The Tatami Galaxy had time for a proper ending, resolving its core theme and securing all loose story threads in just eleven episodes.
23. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – My assessment of Demon Slayer at its halfway point was that I would love it if I were still passionate about the shounen battle genre. My assessment now is that I love it anyway. Although it contains tropes I dislike, such as its passive female lead and the harasser-as-sidekick (albeit nothing on the level of My Hero Academia's Mineta), Demon Slayer excels at everything it tries to do. Of particular note is Tanjiro, now one of my favorite shounen protagonists, who provides an exceptionally empathetic heart to the series. But what makes this truly special is the animation and music. Ufotable and Yuki Kajiura did stellar work together on The Garden of Sinners and the Fate franchise, and their work here lives up to those standards. Demon Slayer features some of the best and most inventive fights you can find in a TV anime, thanks in part to Ufotable's mastery of blending hand-drawn and CG animation. A treat for sakuga lovers, the action is always well-choreographed and kept me engaged long after I would normally tune out. The water and fire effects representing different sword styles add an extra layer of beauty, reminiscent of ukiyo-e woodblock prints, to every fight scene.
24. Princess Jellyfish – The curate's egg of otaku romantic comedies, Princess Jellyfish centers on an all-female, all-NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) boarding house with a strict ban on men setting foot inside. The youngest boarder, Tsukimi, is a jellyfish otaku who inadvertently upends her routine life when she brings home a fashionable woman who bought her a jellyfish from a pet store, not knowing she's a crossdressing male college student named Kuranosuke. Princess Jellyfish boasts sharp and funny writing, great romantic chemistry between the two leads, and thoughtful treatments of both bereavement and gender presentation (Kuranosuke identifies as male but conceals this so he can visit the boarding house). While Tsukimi's struggles with self-doubt and social anxiety tie into the show's humor, she's never presented as someone to be mocked. Unfortunately, the other boarders never develop personalities beyond their defining quirks, which precludes meaningful character development for them. There are a couple great characters in the rest of the supporting cast, but also a terrible subplot about a devious woman falling for the man she roofied. Nonetheless, when Princess Jellyfish is good it's really good, and it's always refreshing to see a show with a majority-female cast completely avoid fetishization and pandering.
25. Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans – I hesitated to include IBO longer than anything else on this list, but it has stubbornly refused to leave my mind. The story of a group of child soldiers who rebel against their adult officers and make their own way in a post-apocalyptic solar system, IBO's greatest strength is its character writing. As a Mari Okada-written melodrama, it's subject to many of my usual complaints about her style, but Okada's handling of abuse and trauma rings very true. Horrible backstories have lasting consequences which are organically integrated into the story, in contrast to shows that shoehorn in abuse to heighten emotional stakes but don't meaningfully engage with the theme. The early episodes recall The 08th MS Team, my previous favorite Gundam, in that they follow small-timers on the periphery of greater events. Even as the scope balloons later on, IBO retains many of the day-to-day worldbuilding details and relatively hard sci-fi elements that initially drew me in. There are serious flaws, particularly with the show's antagonists, but it has one of my favorite large casts of the decade, a great mix of funny and poignant moments, and multiple top-tier opening and ending themes. That I'm still conflicted indicates how much it made me care.
Anime Movie/OVA Series
1. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya – A stunning visual masterpiece. A brilliant revisionist take on Japan's oldest folk tale and a searing indictment of the mistreatment of women in past and present society. The crown jewel in the half-century-long career of one of anime's greatest directors. The list of superlatives that can be applied to The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is nearly as long as its 137 minute runtime, though the film always retains a feeling of vitality. The story, as reimagined by writer-director Isao Takahata and co-screenwriter Riko Sakaguchi, celebrates the beauty of human connections and the importance of self-actualization. Kaguya herself embodies the pursuit of these values over those of social conformity or spiritual purity, but in the central tragedy of the film her desire to truly live chafes against the restrictions placed on her as a spiritual being in lunar society and as a woman on Earth. While the plot is broadly the same as most versions of the folk tale, Takahata's retelling is tinted with profound sadness at the title character's lack of free choice. But even within the restrictions placed on her, Kaguya at times finds joy and self-expression. This life-affirming message—"As long as you can answer back by being alive"—keeps the film from being totally soul-crushing.
Princess Kaguya was Takahata's only collaboration with composer Joe Hisaishi, who turned in some of the best work of his own highly distinguished career. Kaguya was voiced by actress Aki Asakura in a virtuoso performance which remains her only voice-acting role to date. The visual style of the film, somewhere between charcoal sketches and watercolors, makes extensive use of negative space to draw attention to the most important parts of each shot. In the film's most striking moment, the art deteriorates alongside Kaguya's emotional state, finally becoming nothing more than thick, rough lines of charcoal. Princess Kaguya is my pick for best overall anime of the 2010s, as well as my favorite anime movie of all time. We could have a very strong decade ahead of us and still not see its like again.
2. The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya – A towering achievement amidst a sea of disposable franchise films based on TV anime. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya was a great ride—fun, often wacky, occasionally touching—and one of my favorite series of the 2000s. Its sequel, Disappearance, is a different beast; one that effortlessly outclasses its predecessor. There are funny moments and thrilling moments in just the right places, but the film significantly deepens and strengthens the story's emotional core. It looks beneath the hijinks of the series to delve into the psychologies of Kyon and Yuki, the endless complainer and the outwardly emotionless alien, and interrogate both characters' desires. At 162 minutes, Disappearance is the second-longest anime film ever made, with an astonishing 1.2:1 ratio of pages of source material to minutes of runtime. While not fast-paced, it's devoid of filler and cleverly makes Kyon's process of self-reflection an essential part of solving the film's supernatural mystery. It's also simply a treat to get more great visuals. From backgrounds to lighting to character animation and beyond, Kyoto Animation crafted an exceptionally gorgeous and fluidly animated work, even by their high standards. Released a mere five weeks into the decade, Disappearance remains one of the most impressive and enjoyable anime of the 2010s.
3. A Silent Voice – This could have gone so wrong. The first scene of A Silent Voice makes it clear the film deals with heavy subject matter, but I've been burned by countless teen melodramas which use bullying and suicide for gratuitous misery rather than a desire to engage with those themes. It's not immediately clear if A Silent Voice will buck that trend—until the opening bars of The Who's "My Generation" kick in over the opening credits, announcing that this is a film that is bold and full of life despite following characters who struggle to place value on their own continued existence. Kyoto Animation's first standalone film, directed by wunderkind Naoko Yamada (who began her directing career with K-On! at the ridiculously young age of 24), A Silent Voice does what more anime high school dramas should aspire to: show complex emotions being resolved naturalistically, over the course of an evolving friendship, rather than by characters yelling their feelings at each other during the climax. There are a few noticeable moments of adaptational compression where supporting characters appear with relatively little introduction, but such shortcomings are minor and more than compensated for by the outstanding production values made possible by the budget of a theatrical film.
4. Wolf Children – Mamoru Hosoda is one of the most reliable anime directors in the business. He finishes a new feature film every three years, alternating between relatively small scale personal dramas and action-adventure films. His first non-franchise film, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, is one of my favorite anime films of the 2000s. Wolf Children is longer, more ambitious, and ultimately even more successful. As the story of a young mother left to raise two children on her own after the death of her werewolf lover, the film's supernatural themes and human family drama elevate each other to make for a deeply moving narrative and one of the decade's best female protagonists. I was lukewarm on Wolf Children when I first saw it at age 18, but after rewatching it this past year with more distance from my own childhood and relatively greater maturity, it was impossible to leave off this list. Hosoda has never made a bad-looking film, but Wolf Children is particularly stunning in its art and camera work, most memorably a lateral tracking shot of a school hallway which uses motion to convey the passage of years of time. The fusion of technical filmmaking prowess with emotional realism typifies Hosoda's filmography, of which Wolf Children remains, for now, the high water mark.
5. Time of Eve – Probably the smartest and most heartwarming science fiction film set in a coffee shop. In a near-future setting where androids are used for a variety of domestic tasks, the Time of Eve café is a unique space where humans and androids mingle freely. Part of what makes this film so enjoyable is the number of levels it works on. On the surface, it's the story of two somewhat shitty teenagers becoming more compassionate through their interactions with the café's clientele, while also being a thoughtful exploration of how AI might impact people's emotional lives. Moreover, the theme of struggling to understand the people around you is very relevant to strictly human relationships, and the film's treatment of discrimination can serve as a metaphor for real life issues such as the plight of migrant workers in Japan. All this and a healthy serving of comic relief are efficiently delivered in under two hours of stylish animation. The characters are sometimes a little stiff, but the integration with 3D backgrounds allows for a range of camera effects and perfectly complements the soft sci-fi aesthetic. The Time of Eve movie is a re-edited and slightly expanded version of the original 2008 web series; both versions are excellent but I narrowly prefer the film.
6. Wasurenagumo – The Young Animator Training Project has given us some excellent short films, most famously Little Witch Academia and Death Billiards, but for my money Wasurenagumo is both the highlight of the program and the best anime short film of the decade. A cautionary tale of what happens when an adult man becomes excessively attached to an adorable spider girl who springs to life from the pages of a book, this distinctly modern twist on the Jorogumo myth is, if anything, more relevant now than when it premiered. Wasurenagumo is an effective, well-animated horror comedy even if watched with no knowledge of otaku culture, but its critique of imouto and monster girl tropes makes every story beat hit harder. Your waifu may or may not moonlight as a man-eating spider, but the controversial ending of this film is likely to stick with you for a long time.
All images below are links to 720p screencaps.
Anime TV Series
1. Mushishi: Next Passage – A timeless masterpiece of storytelling, art, and music; Mushishi is without peer in its particular domain. Ginko, the only recurring character, travels premodern Japan helping those affected by Mushi, a mysterious form of life invisible to most people. The Mushi serve various narrative roles, both externalizing emotional phenomena and representing the relationship between humans and nature. They are alternately horrifying and a source of wonder; a cause, and solution, to different people's problems. Like life, they defy easy description, allowing Mushishi to turn its simple premise to drama, fantasy, mystery, horror, and other genres. Each episode faithfully adapts a chapter of Yuki Urushibara's manga, often panel by panel, but surpasses the original by extending the quiet moments between scenes of dialogue, immersing viewers in its world through gorgeous art and incredible background music. It's a study in economical storytelling, repeatedly crafting deeply moving narratives around characters we see for less than 22 minutes. There are devastating endings, hopeful endings, and—in the very best episodes—both at once. Steeped in Japanese folklore while speaking to universal human experiences, Mushishi exemplifies the creative potential of anime. The first season already stood among the greatest of all time, but to return after eight years with no drop in quality was an outstanding achievement in its own right.
2. Puella Magi Madoka Magica – There are anime I love more for the joy of witnessing artists at the top of their craft and anime I love more for the emotional reactions they elicit. All my favorites appeal to me on both levels, but no series is more perfectly balanced between them than Madoka Magica. It looks and sounds amazing, with an immediately recognizable design sense, just the right degree of director Akiyuki Shinbo's avant garde style, and some of the best music of Yuki Kajiura's incredible career. It unfolds with the precise pacing and structure of a really long yet invigorating film, allowing all the characters development and moments to shine. But it's Homura specifically who made Madoka Magica a serious contender for number one. I don't claim "Homura did nothing wrong": no deeply traumatized teenager without a support system is equipped to always make the right choice in such desperate circumstances. She's sympathetic for the strength of her determination—her backstory is revealed in my favorite individual episode of the decade—but she's admirable for her ability to ultimately grow from her experience (which she does in the show; don't @ me about Rebellion). Few thriller anime can equal even one of Madoka Magica's strengths; none are so good on so many fronts.
3. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood – Like many fans, I started out watching a lot of worldbuilding-heavy battle anime. Brotherhood was only the fourth series I finished—the first from the 2010s. My tastes have shifted over the years, but after a recent rewatch I feel confident calling it anime's greatest fantasy epic and one of the best series of all time. More than any other anime I've seen, FMA's invented world feels real and lived in. Technical worldbuilding details account for only part of this; more important is the development given to characters from so many walks of life. Close to half the cast are involved with the military in some capacity, but original creator Hiromu Arakawa took the unusual step of telling an action-adventure story about soldiers of a genocidal military dictatorship having to face a moral reckoning. While the Elric brothers are the emotional core of the series, there are dozens of other characters with distinct arcs, any of whom could be a compelling protagonist in the right story (though only Roy Mustang is objectively best boy). There are too many cheer-worthy moments to recount, but perhaps the highest praise I can give Brotherhood is that the godawful chibi gags don't diminish its status as a classic in my eyes. That takes nigh-transcendent greatness.
4. Erased – After several years of relative disengagement from anime, watching Erased was like falling in love all over again. Satoru, an involuntary mental time traveler, finds himself 18 years in the past, just before the murders of several fellow elementary schoolers. Working from what he remembers, he tries to change events by befriending the victims so they're less vulnerable and alone. Few works in any genre so convincingly depict the emotional isolation common in abused children or the overwhelming sensation of feeling safe around others for the first time. While it's often tense and exciting, Erased's best scene is the simple but beautiful moment a child wakes up to a home-cooked meal (courtesy GOAT anime mom Sachiko) for the first time. The ending is the weakest link, but I think objections that the killer's identity was too obvious are misplaced: Erased is more interested in using its premise as a vehicle for character study than in being hard to predict. With the series' emotional climax in episode nine, the final quarter almost feels like an epilogue, though not a bad one. I'm always a sucker for stories about overcoming abuse, but Erased is told with unusual maturity, accompanied by excellent animation, a beautifully atmospheric Yuki Kajiura score, and an all-time great opening theme.
5. Ping Pong the Animation – Screencaps cannot do justice to Ping Pong. Whether or not you enjoy the art style, there's no substitute for seeing it in motion—not just the character animation, but the dynamic backgrounds, creative use of multiple angles, and superb comedic timing. It is, quite simply, one of the most visually impressive TV anime of all time, as well as my favorite story in director Masaaki Yuasa's filmography. Over eleven episodes, Ping Pong explores in depth its cast of high school prodigies and their emotional lives in and out of competition. Crucially, ping pong itself is not treated as an afterthought to the drama. Each character has their own complicated relationship with the sport as well as with other players, and the question of what sports should mean to the people who compete in them forms the thematic backbone of the series. The matches are both thrilling action sequences and crucial moments of character development, helping the show build to one of the most satisfying endings in anime despite its brief runtime. Add in the amazing music, including one of my three favorite opening themes of the decade (alongside Mushishi and Erased), and you have an instant classic I would rank even higher on a list that downplayed subjective factors.
6. Usagi Drop – At the intersection of family dramas and stories of found families lies Usagi Drop, a wholesome anime which came from space and has no connection to the identically-named manga that went disastrously off the rails in its second half. When 30-year-old salesman Daikichi learns his late grandfather had a secret illegitimate daughter, he's the only member of his extended family not to shun the girl as a source of shame. Against opposition, he takes in his six-year-old aunt, Rin, but faces an uphill battle finding a sustainable work–life balance, navigating educational bureaucracy, and building mutual trust with his newest family member. Usagi Drop is largely about the transformative effects of parenthood, but it gradually rehabilitates much of Daikichi's biological family as they come around to Rin, and also has a lot to say about the importance of close relationships we choose. The show takes a gentle approach to storytelling, focusing on the goodness the characters bring out in each other's everyday lives, perfectly complemented by the pastel art style and fluid but unflashy animation. While most episodes have little tension, that's not a flaw here. Usagi Drop remains the gold standard for slice of life and iyashikei (healing) anime in this—or possibly any—decade.
7. The Promised Neverland – Reading a synopsis of the The Promised Neverland, easily my favorite of 2019's impressive class of shounen manga adaptations, is enough to "spoil" the first episode twist, but fortunately this does nothing to make the show less exciting. On one level, Neverland has a familiar domesticity even after revealing the stakes of its story. The dawning realization that the world is often disturbing, the thrill of keeping (what you think are) secrets from adults, and dreaming up dubiously plausible plans to run away from home are all recognizable experiences for me and, I think, many others. But Neverland is as good at ratcheting up tension as any horror thriller anime out there. This juxtaposition—fighting for your life by making rope from bedsheets and hiding contraband beneath loose floorboards—is key to what makes the show so gripping. There's an equally great cast of memorable and engaging characters, particularly Emma, one of the best child protagonists in any recent media. The score, by debutante composer Takahiro Obata, is top-notch in both exciting and emotional moments. Everything comes together perfectly for a satisfying finale while leaving a strong enough hook to make the second season one of my most anticipated upcoming anime.
8. Land of the Lustrous – No studio did more to push forward computer-generated anime this decade than Orange with their magnum opus, Land of the Lustrous. Well-regarded CG anime had previously closely imitated the look of hand-drawn animation; most attempts to do something different ended poorly (Gankutsuou notwithstanding). Orange developed an innovative visual style that, for the first time, could stand alongside traditional techniques as a distinct but equally meritorious craft. Of course, it helps that Land of the Lustrous tells a great story. Most of the characters are Gems, immortal beings in a distant future, each named for the mineral their body is made from. Their existence is largely defined by fighting the implacable Lunarians, though there's ample time given for characterization and even some comic relief—the latter often at the expense of the youngest, Phos, at least in the early stages of their character development. (The Gems are agender, so the official translation uses the singular they.) The show makes extensive use of Buddhist imagery and reveals pieces of fascinating worldbuilding and spiritual concepts, but unfortunately ends on a classic "read the manga" hook. Even so, Land of the Lustrous is top-tier anime: beautifully crafted, equally adept at action and drama, with a fantastic score to boot.
9. Bloom Into You – I don't ask much of LGBT anime romances: anything that moves beyond subtext without glorifying abuse is heartening. Bloom Into You delivers this while complicating its leads' relationship in interesting ways. Yuu is (probably) demiromantic and questions whether she can love anyone. Touko has crippling self-esteem issues and asks Yuu for a pseudo-relationship on the condition she not fall in love, as being with someone who doesn't love her back allows Touko a measure of intimacy without too much guilt. This is not a healthy or sustainable dynamic, but Bloom Into You embraces the idea that love arises organically as people grow closer, rather than appearing fully formed. Both girls are changed by their time together, so their relationship must change in turn—and does, in the second half of Nio Nakatani's manga, which has yet to be adapted. The anime's abrupt non-ending cost it the top spot on my 2018 list, but I chose not to penalize it here rather than leave my favorite romance of the decade out of the top ten. Bloom Into You also deserves recognition for its art, closely following Nakatani's work, and its depiction of an adult lesbian relationship between supporting characters. A true gem even without a second season.
10. Vinland Saga – Fathers loom large in this tale of the Viking Age. Vinland Saga has no shortage of fight scenes and political intrigue, much of it circling around the conflict between Danish King Sweyn and his son Canute, but it truly shines as an intelligent and nuanced character study. The protagonist, Thorfinn, is defined primarily by his relationships with two men: his father, Thors; and Thors' killer, Askeladd. The depiction of trauma is exceptional: the teenage Thorfinn is never presented as brooding in a cool way, but rather as an emotionally broken child incapable of normal interaction and terrified of anything that distracts from his goal of revenge. But it's Askeladd who elevates the series to greatness as he becomes the closest thing Thorfinn has to a father figure. Their dynamic together, along with the gradual reveal of Askeladd's layers of personality and his own complicated family history, make him one of the most fascinating characters of the decade. Accompanied by an excellent soundtrack, the climax of the first season is better than many series finales, but for Vinland Saga is merely "the end of the prologue." If it stays anywhere near this good, it will be a shoo-in for best of the 2020s lists as well.
11. Fate/Zero – Fate/stay night has a great conceit—historical and legendary figures summoned by mages fight in a secret war for a Holy Grail that can grant any wish—and hints of a fascinating larger world, but is limited by its high school setting and harem romance subplots. Thankfully, its potential was realized by Fate/Zero, which features an adult cast and far greater storytelling ambitions. After an exposition-heavy first episode, the show deftly balances a multitude of subplots and develops its massive cast of characters remarkably well in only 25 episodes, while studio Ufotable and composer Yuki Kajiura elevated the franchise to new heights of artistry. While the story is often described as nihilistic, I don't think it presents an utterly hopeless universe. Being a prequel, we know things will not end well, but Fate/Zero is more about the failure of ideals than of people. To be clear, most people fail in this series, but those who salvage some semblance of happiness do so by realizing the value in human relationships even when you can't change the world. There's no guarantee this happiness won't be snatched away, but it's still meaningful. That, to me, is a crucial message which keeps Fate/Zero from just being edgy for its own sake.
12. After the Rain – The premise of a 17-year-old girl infatuated with her 45-year-old manager attracts understandable side-eye, but After the Rain mostly avoids skeeviness to tell an understated, emotionally realistic human drama. Romantic attraction is only part of the characters' dynamic, lessening in importance as the story progresses. Much of the show is about their reasons for working in dead-end service sector jobs and the dreams they repress while there. As someone who spent years in retail without long-term goals (and briefly dated a much older manager), I found After the Rain highly compelling. It doesn't ignore uncomfortable questions about age-difference relationships—Akira, the high-schooler, seemingly wants a father figure as much as anything else—but examines them in a sensitive and nonjudgmental way. Nothing more physically intimate than hugging occurs and the show leaves the future deliberately ambiguous. I'm sure this is a different experience if it's not personally resonant, but I think quality writing can be appreciated regardless. It's also worth watching for the visuals. Wit Studio, best known for their action series, worked in brief but striking fantasy sequences while spending just as much care animating everyday scenes. In its own quiet way, After the Rain is one of the best dramas in recent years.
13. Sound! Euphonium – I was caught off-guard by Euphonium's ambition. Kyoto Animation proved their versatility a long time ago, but the promotional art seemed to suggest a music-themed moe show more than a played straight drama. While neither is inherently better than the other, I'm glad they took the latter approach with this story of a foundering high school concert band attempting to regain success in national competition. Much of what I love about Euphonium boils down to how real it feels. The beautiful background art, largely based on locations in KyoAni's hometown of Uji, and stellar animation in the band's performance scenes help give everything a sense of tangibility. The number of characters we get to know is more typical of long-running adventure series, but this breadth does not preclude introspection and significant development for the main cast. While Euphonium lays the interpersonal drama on pretty thick, I think it's a realistic, if heightened, depiction of adolescents trying to make sense of their emotions and identities at an age that's confusing for most people. The show's queerbaiting rankles, but that's only stuck with me because I got invested in the characters, and it was still heartening to get an actual conclusion to a TV anime.
14. Hinamatsuri – In perhaps the greatest balancing act of the decade, Hinamatsuri, which made me laugh more times per episode than any other comedy, also features one of the most emotional and socially conscious story arcs to be found outside of serious dramas. The premise is pure slapstick: Hina, a telekinetic girl from the future, suddenly appears in a yakuza's apartment and freeloads off him under threat of destroying his collection of expensive vases. This concept is executed well, but the depth of Hinamatsuri's cast distinguishes it from other comedies driven by characters acting like idiots and assholes. The clear standout is Anzu, another girl from the future who arrives in pursuit of Hina but finds herself struggling to get by on the streets. Her relationships with other homeless characters and her later difficulty adjusting to having a home are genuinely moving while only briefly interrupting the steady stream of jokes, all without denigrating anyone. The rest of the show remains consistently excellent. Hina herself is the least interesting character, but all the core cast receive meaningful development in the course of being stuck in humorous situations. Hinamatsuri melds its emotional and comedic sides almost seamlessly to make one of my favorite comedies in all of anime.
15. Silver Spoon – Even though it's based on a manga by Fullmetal Alchemist creator Hiromu Arakawa, I was surprised how much I enjoyed Silver Spoon. Set at an agricultural high school in Arakawa's native Hokkaido, I expected a standard high school comedy with a slight farming theme, but it became one of my favorite coming of age series. The plot has faint echoes of Only Yesterday (always an encouraging comparison!) as failed prep school student Yuugo retreats to the countryside to escape his overbearing father. While Silver Spoon bears an obvious fondness for the agricultural profession, it presents an unromanticized view of both the positives and negatives of rural life. It likewise nails the shifts between hilarity and putting its characters in tough emotional situations, with less tonal whiplash than Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Becoming more competent as he learns about farm life is an integral part of Yuugo's faltering journey towards self-respect, but his story can resonate with many different adolescent experiences. This unassuming little series, which spent much of its first episode on Yuugo's horror at learning chickens poop and lay eggs through the same orifice, turned out to be one of the most emotionally realistic and heartwarming teen dramedies in recent anime.
16. Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju – Anime's answer to peak TV. Few series since Monster combine such masterful drama and characterization with so few stereotypically anime traits (one conversation in the final episode notwithstanding). Part of me thinks I should rank Rakugo much higher; though my less arthouse favorites (and the aforementioned conversation) kept it in this tier, it is a truly special series. In a story spanning some eighty years, we follow multiple generations of practitioners of the titular art form, wherein a single performer with minimal props narrates and plays all the roles in a variety of short tales. The declining public profile of rakugo is a defining concern for many characters, but for as outwardly conservative as some of them are, the show has a distinctly subversive streak. The main character, Kikuhiko, is introduced as a traditionalist elder figure, strictly in favor of the norm against female performers, but we learn that he himself used rakugo as an outlet for gender nonconformity. In keeping with the peak TV analogy, Rakugo deals with heavy subject matter and deeply flawed characters. As a human drama, it's never less than spellbinding, to say nothing of the onstage performances themselves. Breathtakingly ambitious and deeply emotional, Rakugo is among the decade's highest peaks.
17. The Eccentric Family – P.A.Works solidified their reputation this decade with original series featuring cute character designs, outstanding background art, and a thematic preoccupation with the decline of small-town Japan. (My favorite of their originals, Nagi no Asukara, just barely missed this list.) In comparison, The Eccentric Family, based on a novel by the author of The Tatami Galaxy, has an urban setting and less conventionally moe character designs, but themes of old Japan's place in new Japan remain important. The titular Shimogamo family, a down-on-their-luck tanuki clan who use their shapeshifting ability to spend most of their time in human form, are forced to navigate the internal politics of Kyoto's supernatural community while mourning the death of their father and avoiding being eaten by the ominous Friday Fellows. True to its name, The Eccentric Family is a delightfully weird show, though it may come across as weirder than intended if you're unfamiliar with tanuki folklore (see Isao Takahata's Pom Poko for a relatively quick primer). The series as a whole leans more towards comedy than drama, but the prevailing quirkiness helps the two modes blend together naturally, investing even the most whimsical elements with a surprising degree of emotional depth and maintaining a spirit of adventure throughout.
18. Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai – Roger Ebert used to talk about sometimes giving higher ratings to good schlock than to objectively superior films in more prestigious genres when the former succeed at what they try to do. I thought about this while questioning why I ranked a show with "bunny girl" in the title this high. It wouldn't feature in a list of prestige dramas, but I've tried to evaluate different kinds of shows on equal footing. Rascal is sometimes criticized for its similarities to other school life light novel adaptations—there is, admittedly, a sense of unreality from having seen everything before—but I think it compares favorably to its competition. Even though it didn't invent the idea of manifesting teen angst as supernatural afflictions, its emotions feel more genuine than usual. It's easier to care about the romance when the protagonist is a decent and reasonable person, his love interest can express affection, and they have chemistry together. While Rascal is not above pandering in ways I dislike more in other genres, I think it deserves recognition as one of the best shows of its kind, telling a surprisingly mature and sometimes moving story with less fanservice and harem shenanigans than the title suggests.
19. March Comes in Like a Lion – Shows with gorgeous art, exceptional animation, and nuanced depictions of depression are what I live for in anime, yet it took me three tries to get into March Comes in Like a Lion. The story of Rei, a deeply depressed shogi prodigy, and his gradually expanding found family is unquestionably among the decade's most impressive series and has all the pieces of a personal top ten favorite as well, but it doesn't quite gel for me. While the show feels incredibly bleak at times, it knows when to include moments of respite. There are scenes that hit incredibly hard, like Rei's admission that he lets his foster sister verbally abuse him because he thinks he deserves it, but this makes witnessing the love and support he receives from other characters all the more nourishing to the soul. I think the goofy anime humor clashes with the heavier elements (not unlike Honey and Clover, Chica Umino's other major work) and the proliferation of subplots, not all of them equally interesting, leaves some important characters shortchanged down the stretch, but these complaints are outweighed by the show's positives. While I think March could have been even better, I can't talk about great recent anime without mentioning it.
20. Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun – The token yonkoma (four panel) manga adaptation on this list, Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun is a bit of an outlier. Yonkoma manga tend to employ a rapid-fire comedic style in order to deliver a punchline on every page, which carries over into anime adaptations. While Nozaki-kun has more of a unifying plot to each episode than some of its peers, the series as a whole is light on character development or an overarching narrative. It became an unlikely favorite of mine largely on the strength of its premise. The titular Nozaki, a basketball-loving high schooler who moonlights as a popular shoujo romance manga artist, misinterprets his classmate Sakura's attempted love confession as a fan's request for an autograph, leading her to discover his secret and become one of his assistants. They have a cute dynamic together, though it's potentially misleading to call Nozaki-kun a romantic comedy since the attraction is one-sided and Sakura never manages to complete her confession. The show keeps things fresh with an endearing cast of supporting characters and plays with gender roles in clever ways. Its jokes are consistently funny, the upbeat opening theme never fails to make me grin, and it's a great "comfort food" anime for any number of moods.
21. House of Five Leaves – As a period piece with a samurai protagonist who does very little sword fighting, House of Five Leaves might be a hard sell for some—it's by far the most obscure series listed here—but I think it's well worth the time of anyone interested in introspective, character-driven stories. The series follows Masa, a highly skilled but socially anxious ronin, as he inadvertently becomes involved in a kidnapping ring. He decides to stick around the group, partially because its members appear to be at least slightly chivalrous thieves, but largely because he marvels at and is drawn to the self-assuredness of their leader. Despite his anxiety, Masa wants to understand people and persists in asking questions well past others' points of comfort. Compared to the multitude of anime which derive drama from characters refusing to confide in each other, House of Five Leaves provides a breath of fresh air by building its entire story around one character's insistence on expressing his thoughts and feelings, which ultimately has positive knock-on effects for the relatively repressed people around him. In the course of twelve episodes, House of Five Leaves develops its entire cast into fully-realized characters and pulls all its plot strings together into a pitch-perfect ending.
22. The Tatami Galaxy – I talk about "arthouse anime" more than I should use any term so fuzzily defined, but in a pinch I can always point to The Tatami Galaxy as a case study. Though far from his most experimental work, director Masaaki Yuasa's nontraditional visual style is a natural fit for this surreal comedy following an unnamed college student across parallel universes as he joins various student groups in search of his ideal campus life. The show, narrated by the protagonist, recounts events through a heavily subjective filter. Bicycle impounding, for example, is depicted as an international conspiracy since its consequences felt calamitous. The art reflects this too: certain characters are drawn with inhuman traits depending on how the protagonist perceives them. Beneath the elaborate staging, the depiction of a young adult repeatedly failing to find happiness because he can't give up his preconceived idea of what it should look like is an incisive critique of a very real behavior. This realness makes the show uncomfortable to watch in places, even when it's hilarious. Fortunately, as an adaptation of a single novel, The Tatami Galaxy had time for a proper ending, resolving its core theme and securing all loose story threads in just eleven episodes.
23. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – My assessment of Demon Slayer at its halfway point was that I would love it if I were still passionate about the shounen battle genre. My assessment now is that I love it anyway. Although it contains tropes I dislike, such as its passive female lead and the harasser-as-sidekick (albeit nothing on the level of My Hero Academia's Mineta), Demon Slayer excels at everything it tries to do. Of particular note is Tanjiro, now one of my favorite shounen protagonists, who provides an exceptionally empathetic heart to the series. But what makes this truly special is the animation and music. Ufotable and Yuki Kajiura did stellar work together on The Garden of Sinners and the Fate franchise, and their work here lives up to those standards. Demon Slayer features some of the best and most inventive fights you can find in a TV anime, thanks in part to Ufotable's mastery of blending hand-drawn and CG animation. A treat for sakuga lovers, the action is always well-choreographed and kept me engaged long after I would normally tune out. The water and fire effects representing different sword styles add an extra layer of beauty, reminiscent of ukiyo-e woodblock prints, to every fight scene.
24. Princess Jellyfish – The curate's egg of otaku romantic comedies, Princess Jellyfish centers on an all-female, all-NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) boarding house with a strict ban on men setting foot inside. The youngest boarder, Tsukimi, is a jellyfish otaku who inadvertently upends her routine life when she brings home a fashionable woman who bought her a jellyfish from a pet store, not knowing she's a crossdressing male college student named Kuranosuke. Princess Jellyfish boasts sharp and funny writing, great romantic chemistry between the two leads, and thoughtful treatments of both bereavement and gender presentation (Kuranosuke identifies as male but conceals this so he can visit the boarding house). While Tsukimi's struggles with self-doubt and social anxiety tie into the show's humor, she's never presented as someone to be mocked. Unfortunately, the other boarders never develop personalities beyond their defining quirks, which precludes meaningful character development for them. There are a couple great characters in the rest of the supporting cast, but also a terrible subplot about a devious woman falling for the man she roofied. Nonetheless, when Princess Jellyfish is good it's really good, and it's always refreshing to see a show with a majority-female cast completely avoid fetishization and pandering.
25. Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans – I hesitated to include IBO longer than anything else on this list, but it has stubbornly refused to leave my mind. The story of a group of child soldiers who rebel against their adult officers and make their own way in a post-apocalyptic solar system, IBO's greatest strength is its character writing. As a Mari Okada-written melodrama, it's subject to many of my usual complaints about her style, but Okada's handling of abuse and trauma rings very true. Horrible backstories have lasting consequences which are organically integrated into the story, in contrast to shows that shoehorn in abuse to heighten emotional stakes but don't meaningfully engage with the theme. The early episodes recall The 08th MS Team, my previous favorite Gundam, in that they follow small-timers on the periphery of greater events. Even as the scope balloons later on, IBO retains many of the day-to-day worldbuilding details and relatively hard sci-fi elements that initially drew me in. There are serious flaws, particularly with the show's antagonists, but it has one of my favorite large casts of the decade, a great mix of funny and poignant moments, and multiple top-tier opening and ending themes. That I'm still conflicted indicates how much it made me care.
Anime Movie/OVA Series
1. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya – A stunning visual masterpiece. A brilliant revisionist take on Japan's oldest folk tale and a searing indictment of the mistreatment of women in past and present society. The crown jewel in the half-century-long career of one of anime's greatest directors. The list of superlatives that can be applied to The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is nearly as long as its 137 minute runtime, though the film always retains a feeling of vitality. The story, as reimagined by writer-director Isao Takahata and co-screenwriter Riko Sakaguchi, celebrates the beauty of human connections and the importance of self-actualization. Kaguya herself embodies the pursuit of these values over those of social conformity or spiritual purity, but in the central tragedy of the film her desire to truly live chafes against the restrictions placed on her as a spiritual being in lunar society and as a woman on Earth. While the plot is broadly the same as most versions of the folk tale, Takahata's retelling is tinted with profound sadness at the title character's lack of free choice. But even within the restrictions placed on her, Kaguya at times finds joy and self-expression. This life-affirming message—"As long as you can answer back by being alive"—keeps the film from being totally soul-crushing.
Princess Kaguya was Takahata's only collaboration with composer Joe Hisaishi, who turned in some of the best work of his own highly distinguished career. Kaguya was voiced by actress Aki Asakura in a virtuoso performance which remains her only voice-acting role to date. The visual style of the film, somewhere between charcoal sketches and watercolors, makes extensive use of negative space to draw attention to the most important parts of each shot. In the film's most striking moment, the art deteriorates alongside Kaguya's emotional state, finally becoming nothing more than thick, rough lines of charcoal. Princess Kaguya is my pick for best overall anime of the 2010s, as well as my favorite anime movie of all time. We could have a very strong decade ahead of us and still not see its like again.
2. The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya – A towering achievement amidst a sea of disposable franchise films based on TV anime. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya was a great ride—fun, often wacky, occasionally touching—and one of my favorite series of the 2000s. Its sequel, Disappearance, is a different beast; one that effortlessly outclasses its predecessor. There are funny moments and thrilling moments in just the right places, but the film significantly deepens and strengthens the story's emotional core. It looks beneath the hijinks of the series to delve into the psychologies of Kyon and Yuki, the endless complainer and the outwardly emotionless alien, and interrogate both characters' desires. At 162 minutes, Disappearance is the second-longest anime film ever made, with an astonishing 1.2:1 ratio of pages of source material to minutes of runtime. While not fast-paced, it's devoid of filler and cleverly makes Kyon's process of self-reflection an essential part of solving the film's supernatural mystery. It's also simply a treat to get more great visuals. From backgrounds to lighting to character animation and beyond, Kyoto Animation crafted an exceptionally gorgeous and fluidly animated work, even by their high standards. Released a mere five weeks into the decade, Disappearance remains one of the most impressive and enjoyable anime of the 2010s.
3. A Silent Voice – This could have gone so wrong. The first scene of A Silent Voice makes it clear the film deals with heavy subject matter, but I've been burned by countless teen melodramas which use bullying and suicide for gratuitous misery rather than a desire to engage with those themes. It's not immediately clear if A Silent Voice will buck that trend—until the opening bars of The Who's "My Generation" kick in over the opening credits, announcing that this is a film that is bold and full of life despite following characters who struggle to place value on their own continued existence. Kyoto Animation's first standalone film, directed by wunderkind Naoko Yamada (who began her directing career with K-On! at the ridiculously young age of 24), A Silent Voice does what more anime high school dramas should aspire to: show complex emotions being resolved naturalistically, over the course of an evolving friendship, rather than by characters yelling their feelings at each other during the climax. There are a few noticeable moments of adaptational compression where supporting characters appear with relatively little introduction, but such shortcomings are minor and more than compensated for by the outstanding production values made possible by the budget of a theatrical film.
4. Wolf Children – Mamoru Hosoda is one of the most reliable anime directors in the business. He finishes a new feature film every three years, alternating between relatively small scale personal dramas and action-adventure films. His first non-franchise film, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, is one of my favorite anime films of the 2000s. Wolf Children is longer, more ambitious, and ultimately even more successful. As the story of a young mother left to raise two children on her own after the death of her werewolf lover, the film's supernatural themes and human family drama elevate each other to make for a deeply moving narrative and one of the decade's best female protagonists. I was lukewarm on Wolf Children when I first saw it at age 18, but after rewatching it this past year with more distance from my own childhood and relatively greater maturity, it was impossible to leave off this list. Hosoda has never made a bad-looking film, but Wolf Children is particularly stunning in its art and camera work, most memorably a lateral tracking shot of a school hallway which uses motion to convey the passage of years of time. The fusion of technical filmmaking prowess with emotional realism typifies Hosoda's filmography, of which Wolf Children remains, for now, the high water mark.
5. Time of Eve – Probably the smartest and most heartwarming science fiction film set in a coffee shop. In a near-future setting where androids are used for a variety of domestic tasks, the Time of Eve café is a unique space where humans and androids mingle freely. Part of what makes this film so enjoyable is the number of levels it works on. On the surface, it's the story of two somewhat shitty teenagers becoming more compassionate through their interactions with the café's clientele, while also being a thoughtful exploration of how AI might impact people's emotional lives. Moreover, the theme of struggling to understand the people around you is very relevant to strictly human relationships, and the film's treatment of discrimination can serve as a metaphor for real life issues such as the plight of migrant workers in Japan. All this and a healthy serving of comic relief are efficiently delivered in under two hours of stylish animation. The characters are sometimes a little stiff, but the integration with 3D backgrounds allows for a range of camera effects and perfectly complements the soft sci-fi aesthetic. The Time of Eve movie is a re-edited and slightly expanded version of the original 2008 web series; both versions are excellent but I narrowly prefer the film.
6. Wasurenagumo – The Young Animator Training Project has given us some excellent short films, most famously Little Witch Academia and Death Billiards, but for my money Wasurenagumo is both the highlight of the program and the best anime short film of the decade. A cautionary tale of what happens when an adult man becomes excessively attached to an adorable spider girl who springs to life from the pages of a book, this distinctly modern twist on the Jorogumo myth is, if anything, more relevant now than when it premiered. Wasurenagumo is an effective, well-animated horror comedy even if watched with no knowledge of otaku culture, but its critique of imouto and monster girl tropes makes every story beat hit harder. Your waifu may or may not moonlight as a man-eating spider, but the controversial ending of this film is likely to stick with you for a long time.
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