Review of Dagashi Kashi

For a show that revolves entirely around candy, Dagashi Kashi is untenably bland. Heed the warnings of the other reviews: this series is little more than an advertisement for Japanese sweets of various descriptions. Whether Dagashi Kashi is meant to parade sugary nostalgia in front of Japanese viewers or to serve as a mildly clever marketing ploy for Western audiences remains unclear (likely both are true), but the show clearly has no concerns outside of detailing and extolling the virtues of the exotic sweets you can find at your local specialty sweetshop or on the corner of any Japanese street. The subjectmatter would make for an informative hour-long documentary on a food-centric network of some sort, but attempting to wring a narrative work with characters and plot out of the fact that sweets exist was a mistake.

Dagashi Kashi cares only for dagashi and has no time to spend on anything else; all other considerations get shunted aside whenever a new opportunity arises for a sugar-coated or chocolate-covered gimmick to invite itself into the episode. The show pays only the paltriest lip service to concepts like plot, characters, and setting. MAL’s two-paragraph summary contains about as much information about the premise as the show itself delivers in its entire run. Immediately after laying down a barely workable background for the characters to exist in, the show completely abandons all pretext of pursuing any non-explicitly-dagashi-related plot thread any further than absolutely necessary. If I remember correctly, the first extended scenario not centered entirely around dagashi comes in episode 6 (and even then it’s still tangentially endorsing something). I could be mistaken, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because it was still terribly boring, if slightly cute.

It’s almost rude the way Dagashi Kashi establishes Kokonotsu’s conflicting futures – continuing in his father’s footsteps as the owner of his family’s shop or seeking success elsewhere as a mangaka – and then sweeps away the main character’s hopes and dreams to focus on more important things, like how many meters a person of average build can run on the caloric energy of a single mouthful of caramel. Saya has a longstanding and unrequited crush on Kokonotsu (for reasons that remain mysterious, given his complete lack of personality), but once her feelings have been established, they never again become relevant, except for maybe two dumb gags. The same goes for Kokonotsu’s apparent attraction to Hotaru, though the full nature of his feelings never becomes clear, and Hotaru’s worrying lack of concern for anything not candy renders any attempt to develop the show’s romantic side an exercise in futility.

The cast ostensibly comprises five characters in total, and not merely five main characters, but five characters who are ever named or have any significance to the series whatsoever. Kokonotsu’s father can be an amusing presence, undoubtedly made better by Keiji Fujiwara’s delivery. Most of the time, however, the action involves only Kokonotsu and Hotaru discoursing about this week’s sweets of choice in the charmless interior of the Shikada shop. The formula of the same two characters jabbering about the same things in the same place every episode gets old within about two minutes. Dagashi Kashi has so much variety in edible endorsements, and yet so little variety in anything else that the show feels suffocating. It isn’t until episode 7 that a couple of new one-time characters finally drop in to break up the monotony and something other than dagashi takes the center stage. The few episodes in the show’s midsection do begin branching out into more creative skits and provide a mildly amusing glimpse into what Dagashi Kashi might have been had the dagashi not levied such brutal demands for screen time, and while the show still isn’t brilliant, it at least feels like a presentable comedy rather than the soulless grind it usually is.

Hotaru’s striking design drew me to Dagashi Kashi, as it no doubt did many others, and I wish I could say that the show had enough substance to merit owning such a unique image. It’s a shame, because Hotaru’s design is about the only aspect of Dagashi Kashi worth remembering, but at this point I can hardly stand to look at her. Every time I see those distinctive ringed irises I have to brace myself for a ludicrous speech about the profound, sublime joys of eating something I’ve never heard of, and not even the voice of Ayana Taketatsu can make this dialogue sound clever or enticing. Hotaru actively makes the show unbearable, boring, and shallow to boot.

Dagashi Kashi is so dedicated to dagashi that every last piece of the show’s construction feels like it is aimed squarely at selling a product. Nothing feels like a natural part of a show, especially not a comedy show; every joke, every hint of character development, every moment of fan service, every “plot point,” every single aspect of the characters’ actions and demeanors seems like nothing more than a lengthy commercial. It’s like any television ad that tries to get your attention with a hyper-compressed storyline, hypothetical characters, and light-hearted ribbing. It’s not a REAL narrative and you aren’t supposed to enjoy it, because it has no substance and doesn’t go anywhere; all you have to do is think that you identify with somebody long enough to let the salesmen unveil their pitch. Already so much of Dagashi Kashi is mere descriptions of dagashi and their functions, but because of the show’s attitude toward the dagashi, the few aspects not explicitly dedicated to dagashi still feel like part of the scheme. This feeling makes Dagashi Kashi almost uncomfortable to watch; I felt like I was constantly being shilled to every second I sat in front of the show.

I won’t bother questioning why To wears his sunglasses at night.