It's important to note here that nothing happens quickly in Beck. It takes quite a few episodes for Yukio to even get a guitar, and it takes him much longer to learn it. Then it takes him a similar amount of time to get over his crippling wimpiness and approach Ryusuke. Finally, it's almost halfway through the series by the time he is actually a member of Beck. Hell, he doesn't even have his mind made up about who he has a crush on until the halfway point.

As cool as it is to see a wimp transformed into an awesome rocker, and as novel a concept as it is to show this as a realistically difficult process, none of these things contribute to Beck actually being enjoyable. It begins with potential, but quickly sputters out as it turns into a series of dismal failures on Yukio's part. There's so much whining and so many excuses in the first half of the series that you just might mistake it for Evangelion: The Musical.

The second half picks up a bit, and eventually reaches a climactic 5-episode-long concert scene that manages to keep things rolling for a surprising length of time. Still, wading through the sludge that is episodes 1 through 20 is painful, which gives the sweet final scenes a bit of a bad aftertaste.

Further, the animation reeks with the kind of half-assed, sloppy vectorized style that marred director Osamu Kobayashi's notorious stint on Gurren Lagann (episode 4), and serves as a stern reminder of why digital animation is not always better than cels. Character designs will occasionally be drawn completely wrong, and there are moments where faces in the background of a scene will be wordlessly gesticulating for no apparent reason. It feels like this was made on a tight schedule and/or with very low production values, or that there was minimal communication between different parts of the animation team. The only parts that ever look very good are the guitar scenes, which are lovingly animated in full cel-shaded 3-D.

But hey, at least the music's good, right? The songs are a lot of fun, as they span everything in rock and roll, from pop-rock to blues to Chili Peppers-esque rap-rock. The riffs are quite catchy, even if you only catch bits and pieces of music each episode up until the final show. Sadly, a lot of the Engrish from the original Japanese makes the lyrics sound comically awful, even when translated into their slightly-improved English dub counterparts.

On that note, the dub is one of the most important features of Beck's North American release. Many characters in the original Japanese dub track speak English, so ADR directors Taliesin Jaffe and Christopher Bevins faced a unique challenge in translating this difference into a dub track that would be entirely in English. They achieved this by having characters speak with different tones and levels of formality, so that informal speech would be from English speakers talking in Japanese, and formal speech would be from Japanese speakers speaking Japanese. The parts where characters switch to English were essentially ignored, and treated as if they were in Japanese. The result is a pretty well-performed dub track (with great singing performances!) that differs substantially from the original Japanese, to the point where, switching between the two mid-episode, I often felt like I was watching two entirely different shows. For that reason, as well as the important and intentional cultural issues raised by the show's bilingualism, I highly recommend the Japanese track. (Despite its hirarious Engrish slip-ups)

Unfortunately, Beck is very difficult to suggest to most people. It's got great music, a realistic, down-to-earth premise, and an awesome final stretch. It's almost worth it to get through the twenty episodes that it takes to reach the rocking finale of the series, but in reality the bad pacing and even worse animation make Mongolian Chop Squad a chore to complete. Interestingly enough, however, Beck seems to almost be teaching us, whether by accident or not, the essential discipline of music: If you can get through the hours and hours of grueling practice, you'll find that all of the beauty and awe lies just on the other side.

average.

The characters are just as unique as their clothing habits. There's cross-dresser Isabella, the quiet idealist who dresses like the countess from a lost romance novel, Heart-stiched-on-her-sleeve Miwako, who is basically a walking piece of cotton (and eye) candy, and Arashi, the grumpy punk rocker, whose safety pin piercings are enough to make the cast of Hellraiser flinch. Finally there is George, the suave Prince Charming who leads his team the way Griffith led the Hawks from Berserk. The four form Paradise Kiss, their own line of clothing. The best part? George wants Yukari to model their final project.

Though reluctant at first, Yukari decides to test the waters of the world of fashion. After being given a new nickname of Caroline (or Carrie) by Miwako, she is reborn and redressed into a world she originally dismissed. In no time flat, she falls for the enigmatic playboy, George, and her dedication to the group's project becomes inescapably personal. In an attempt to abandon the mediocrity of her life at home and school, she moves into Arashi's apartment and seeks work as a fashion model. Through her new friends' stretch at nepotism, Yukari's good luck lands her at a modeling agency. But just before things get too out of hand, she moves in with George, and the two lovers become inseparable.

(This is the part where you all say "yikes!")

The most engaging aspect of Paradise Kiss is Yukari's challenging and complicated relationship with George, whose feelings are harder to interpret than the plot of Serial Experiments Lain. Does he really care about her decision to abandon her life for his ambitions? How will he use her after the project is done? Despite his debonair standoffish attitude and unreadable expressions, George holds himself with the impeccable charm and the faultless poise of a James Bond or Calvin Klein. He's so dangerous, you almost have to fall in love with him and hate yourself for it. Nevertheless, it is a story about young love, which is always passionate and fiery at first, but is quick to consume itself and become ash.

While the show concerns itself with fashion shoots, modeling agencies, and hair dressing, it never overwhelms Yukari's voice and perspective of this new and flamboyant world. Her narrative voice is self-conscious and borderline arrogant: in other words, the perfect high school senior. It is easy to see people disliking Yukari for her stubbornness and naivete, but her blossoming passion for love and George redeems her.

Paradise Kiss's treatment of sex, virginity and sexual identification plays a major role in its story-telling. It boils with rampant sexuality, though more subtly rather than crudely (think Romeo and Juliet rather than Colorful.) Many of the love-making scenes are treated with the classic Japanese fashion of showing objects in the room rather than actual nudity; this technique doubles the emotional weight of each scene.

While the dialogue can fall into many of the pitfalls of directly-translated manga-into-anime, the visual experience of Paradise Kiss is crisp and deep, each shot as carefully sculpted as an assignment on Project Runway. In the end, the conflict of romanticism and love vs. real world values leans with total bias toward the romantics and idealists (this is a shojo after all.) Though its commercial success in the states makes the final chapters hard to find, even on Ebay, it is a very pleasant show. Girls as well as boys who, like Isabella, think they're girls will enjoy the romantic treatment of first love.

Animation:		3.0		Overall: (3.0 stars)
Plot:		3.0
Voice Acting:		2.5
Sound:		3.0