The first thing that crossed my mind as I began watching Rolling Girls is a list of various shows that have stood out through their absurd use of colors, artwork, pacing, and explosions. The list includes FLCL, Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, Kill la Kill, Kyousougiga, Dead Leaves, Space Dandy, and tons of other works, all of which shared many of these crazy technical aspects that boggle and thrill viewers that care for something outside the often narrow views of mainstream production. Another thing these works all share is a particular flavor of insanity to call their own, to give them staying power in people’s minds outside of simply being odd. I searched and searched for that uniqueness in Rolling Girls and instead found more typical anime tropes about friendship at its core. And interestingly enough, I found that they worked in ways that could so easily feel tiresome by now, even under the crazy façade.
The world itself is certainly peculiar and unique enough. All of Japan has been divided into territories by bosses with superhuman powers, known as Mosa, with their laypeople followers being simply referred to as the Mob. What sets these Mosa aside are heart-shaped stones that randomly drop from the sky, sparkling spectacularly and appearing without rhyme or reason. As they vie for power in a Sengoku-esque struggle, we meet our four protagonists, four Mob girls with no powers or relevance to their territories whatsoever, who are tasked with going around to other nations to intervene in disputes between Mosa and find a resolution to keep peace between and within territories. As payment, they seek out the heart-shaped stones, as one of the four has a particular unexplained interest in collecting them. All four come from different territories and different backgrounds, but in a Japanese version of the buddy road trip, they find themselves to be compatible both as friends and as mediators.
Well, not really as mediators. What can four Mob girls do in the battle between Mosa? The answer is simply that they cannot do much of anything other than try and reason with them. There are no powers to be handed out, no secret techniques or revelations that the girls can have to ascend past their wimpy status. No matter how much hard work they put in, the best they can do is hope that their efforts touch the Mosa emotionally, who all quickly grow to pity the four useless peacekeepers who find themselves in more and more trouble wherever they go. Often times they even cause or further enflame the disputes in their attempts to understand the situation.
Being completely arc-based, each new city is square one for them, although the world itself has some constants and plot points weaving in and out of the show as it progresses. Different cities progress all four in new ways as they come to terms with their old lives and new friendships. If it sounds exactly like many other existing works, that is because it acts a lot like existing works. As I said before, it really decides to take existing tropes for what they are: time-tested themes through which to pull the viewers into the journey they take together, albeit somewhat lazily chosen. What Rolling Girls does do is play them smarter than many other shows. The cities are not a vehicle for each successive character to receive their development; flashbacks and backstory happen in everyday conversation between the girls, with little fanfare or melodrama. Indeed the show avoids melodrama for the most part, playing the interactions between the girls as a comedy rather than a serious work. Conflicts between the Mosa are not all based around simple misunderstandings or straightforward motives, and a few of the later ones throw some jabs at Japanese traditions of politeness and unity.
And all the crazy visuals and pacing definitely work; if there were ever a definitive way to sell us on the wonderous sights and sounds of the journey, on the overwhelming difference in power between Mosa and Mob, and just to drag us along with their pace and enjoy every moment of it, Rolling Girls hits it squarely. The backgrounds all have incredibly warped proportions, painting in a watercolor style without definitive lines, and often with unharmonious colors—such as summer colors blending with dirty browns and blacks—giving a less idealistic picture and more of a bizarre vibe. Explosions are particularly unique, all being represented by bright flashes of vibrant colors in the shapes of roses, peaches, and really any other shape; unlike works such as Sengoku Basara, these often do not culminate in an actual explosion, but rather just exist as the entirety of the clash. Just like other works, when explosions do occur, people fly in all sorts of lethal directions and speeds, just to push home the point of just how useless the Mob really is.
Just like the visuals, the main story that eventually emerges—a tale of space-time warps, runaways, and octopi—goes in all sorts of insane directions, progressing by way of screwball happenstance popping in and out of the forefront as the girls cluelessly continue on their journey. The few recurring side characters perform the job of progressing things steadily along while remaining away from the limelight, and most of the truly hilarious moments come from these cutaway scenes. Everything works together harmoniously, and while we never really get the sense that anything of true substance happens in the show, we are also given enough progression to believe that time really is moving forward for everyone, and everyone certainly leaves the show more mature than they started.
In some sense I wonder why there was even a plot at all. It serves as a way to challenge the girls to accomplish more than their maturity and their feeble states allow, but each individual city gave them exactly that opportunity. In fact, I am not even sure that having distinct city arcs and plots was necessary, as it sometimes gives the impression of compartmentalizing their experiences on the road. They are on a crazy road trip, meeting more and more people and hanging on to every weird memory they make. Maturity comes to them not in moments of high tension between rival Mosa or revelations about one another, but simply by them traveling on their own, seeing new things and being able to stand back up after massive explosions.
The reason seems to be for comedy, because anime directors seem to think we can be entertained by crazy colors, a breakneck pace, and absurd stories coming to a ridiculous climax. They also happen to be right. The watercolors and absolute worthlessness of the protagonists is enough to distinguish it from the pack. When I said that worn-out tropes could be tiresome by now even with the design, I may have been misspoken. Any show with this design cannot possibly take itself seriously enough to use old tropes for melodrama or perceived depth. They made a show about friendship, but more importantly they made a hilariously written light show about friendship.