Welcome to the moon—but not the chill, tranquil one you see in bedtime stories. No, Moonrise hurls us into a futuristic lunar war where gravity is optional, rainbow weapons are the norm, and emotions run higher than Earth’s orbit. It’s got space cowboys, tech tattoos, and a whole lot of yelling. Strap in.
Let’s just say… the cast exists. Everyone here gives it their all—sometimes a bit too much. You’ve got your brooding heroes, shrieking sidekicks, and the occasional wise mentor who drops one-liners like fortune cookies in zero-G. But emotional nuance? Eh, not always in orbit. Some characters are so over-the-top loud and hysterical, you’ll want to reach through the screen and tell them to use their indoor spaceship voice. It’s a shame, really, because a couple of them show flickers of real depth, but the rest feel like they were pulled from the “sci-fi anime cliché generator.”
WIT Studio, take a dramatic bow. This show is a visual FEAST. The animation? Smooth like moon butter. Whether it’s zero-gravity duels, gun-blazing standoffs, or full-throttle vehicle chases across lunar terrain, everything moves with fluidity and flair. And can we talk about the engrave tech? Think Green Lantern rings had a neon baby with a 3D printer. It’s creative, stylish, and just plain cool.
Also, when the tech powers up, there’s this rainbow-glow aesthetic that somehow screams “future warfare” and “Saturday morning cartoons” at the same time—and weirdly, it works. And the music? A synth-heavy, atmospheric delight that elevates every laser blast and emotional stare into the abyss. Honestly, the sound design is as heroic as the characters pretend to be.
Alright, so here’s where Moonrise… trips over its moon boots. The story is complicated. Like, unnecessarily tangled to the point where you’ll start questioning if you missed an episode—even though you’re only on episode two. There’s political intrigue, war, personal trauma, space philosophies… all swirling in a narrative black hole. And yet, buried under that mess is a surprisingly touching emotional core. It’s there, peeking through the explosions and chaos, reminding you that someone in the writers’ room definitely cried while writing a death scene.
That said, the 18-episode stretch does test your patience. While it’s refreshing to have a longer season (hello, binge-watchers), it ends up feeling bloated. Whole episodes could vanish and you wouldn’t even notice. If tighter storytelling had met this stunning production, we might’ve had a classic on our hands.
Moonrise is like a space-themed buffet: gorgeous to look at, full of variety, but a bit overwhelming and inconsistent. The Ultron-looking enemies are slick, the action is top-tier, and the tech is fun and fresh—but the story’s all over the place, and the characters can be as grating as a moon rock in your boot. Still, if you’re here for eye candy and epic anime battles in zero-G, you’ll probably have a blast.
