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I thought I had this show’s number. I figured these first three episodes had shown me everything they had to offer. Sure, there were a few sentimental moments to balance things out, but otherwise, it was obvious that the writing was all about straight jab hijinks and right-hook slapstick. Yet, it turns out that was all a ruse set to lull us all into a false sense of security. Mayonaka Punch has been hiding a south paw haymaker this whole time—and it just knocked me off my feet.
Fu’s story this week is pretty simple and familiar—both for a vampire story and a tale of doomed pining—but that simplicity is what allows it to work so well. A lesser version of this episode might have tried to harp on the tragedy or offset the sadness with a ton of comic relief. Instead, while there are a few gags and some funny moments, the direction and tone are allowed to be subdued and quiet—as best to fit the eternally nervous Fu as she finally confronts a lingering regret from the past. It shows just how much range this show has—and does so without feeling strained or incongruous with what came before.
I especially love how Masaki’s motivation changes as they search for Aya. Initially, she just wants Fu to sing so they can get some views, but eventually, it’s clear that she empathizes with Fu’s dilemma. She knows what it’s like to hold yourself back from the thing you love—to lose a relationship that meant everything to you even if you were the one who pulled away. Best of all, she never has to say any of this out loud—instead it’s all communicated through her actions. Do she breaks through to Fu and encourages the timid vampire to seak out some closure. This show excels at making its cast act like chaotic little gremlins but it also understands when to let them be (for lack of a more inclusive term) human too.
Most of all, I appreciate that Fu’s story is allowed to be sad—or at least resolved in a bittersweet manner. She’s lived with her regrets over Aya for so long—judging by those Legally Distinct song choices on Aya’s mixtape, I’m guessing they met during the late 70s—that ending things with an easy reunion would feel a bit too clean. The reveal of Aya’s death is so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it almost seems like a fakeout. But it’s ultimately the right choice—one that leaves Fu with just enough closure to embrace her singing once again but still feel the weight of what she ran away from. There’s a melancholy to it all that works for this story and it’s beautifully capped off by Hina Yomiya putting her all into that final number. It’s the first video MayoPan has made that really captures the friendship that made Masaki’s initial NewTube career so meaningful.
In all, it’s a fantastic standalone episode that proves just how much range this show has. If Maynaka Punch can switch so effortlessly and effectively between hilarious comedy and heartwrenching drama, then all bets are off for what it could pull next.
Also shoutout to Aya’s music taste, those are some really good 70’s deep cuts.
Rating:
Mayonaka Punch is currently streaming on
Crunchyroll.
Disclosure: Kadokawa World Entertainment (KWE), a wholly owned subsidiary of Kadokawa Corporation, is the majority owner of Anime News Network, LLC. One or more of the companies mentioned in this article are part of the Kadokawa Group of Companies.
