Dungeon Meshi‘s anime is the product of the shifting tides at studio Trigger, of a long relationship between the involved parties and the source material, and of a new director who can’t silence his inner fan but still wants to breathe actual life into Ryoko Kui’s charming world.

---

Studio TRIGGER is changing—perhaps not radically, but enough that the outdated perception of the company demands to be updated. Presentism is inevitable in anime fandoms, as most people will only stick around cartoon discourse (even if they continue enjoying the cartoons themselves) for a few years, before leaving and making way for younger generations with their own frames of reference. No one should be surprised that, given the era when Gainax effectively died and TRIGGER became independent, the legacy of the former and style of the latter have been reduced to one very specific tone, type of animation, and a singular individual in co-founder Hiroyuki Imaishi. Those preconceptions weren’t completely wrong either: he led the most significant project across both studios from the late 00s to the mid-10s, flaunting his bombastic personality like few anime directors are capable of, and surrounding himself with like-minded creators. To this day, many youngsters continue to join the studio precisely because they adore his style, so that fiery flame won’t be extinguished anytime soon.

While that has been a demonstrably important side of the studio(s), though, it never told the full story. You barely had to look a bit further back, or maybe just to the side, to find individuals and entire creative hubs with different sensibilities at Gainax: those who followed Hideaki Anno to studio Khara; many current faces of high-profile Aniplex titles, like Atsushi Nishigori and Megumi Kouno; women who formed their own circles, like the Doukyuusei duo of Shouko Nakamura & Akemi Hayashi, or the Chuo Line Anime Sisters (the fashionable group of Mai Yoneyama, Hiromi Taniguchi, Natsuki Yokoyama, and Kana Shundo); of course, also half of Gekidan Inu-Curry, and we could be here naming distinct artists all day. These are just a small, diverse selection of creators raised at the studio or who played a pivotal role there since the 00s alone, so you can imagine how much broader of an outlet the studio has historically been.

“Gainax” always meant something broader than what Imaishi represents on his own, and while Trigger was born with him as its visible face, even the crew that followed him in this new venture was always less uniform than the belief of a monolithic Trigger Style would have led you to believe. Even if you discount an obvious departure like Kiznaiver due to not having an in-house director—a bit of a meaningless distinction given how the Albacrow/Yostar team that he belongs to is still active in their works—there’s no denying that Trigger’s own rotation of project leaders is now a lot more diverse.

Yoh Yoshinari’s rise to the top might not have felt unfamiliar to avid followers of the studio, given how many iconic moments he had personally animated across the catalog of Gainax and Trigger, but his approach is certainly different from Imaishi’s; even in overlapping ideas, like the integral role of effects animation in their fantasies, the way Yoshinari’s fluid FXFX: Shorthand for effects animation – water, fire, beams, that kind of cut. A pillar of Japanese 2D animation. stimulates the sense of wonder is quite different from Imaishi fueling his madness with Kanada-style bursts. On paper, Akira Amemiya might have seemed like a more direct successor to Imaishi’s frenzy—but one wonderful franchise later, we’re all already aware that he’s more likely to tap into his love for Anno and the specific landmarks of his youth.

With every new director stepping up, a distinct set of priorities is being clearly laid out, and that is very much by design. In an interview with Newtype recently republished online, the latest addition to their series direction roster alluded to the studio principle that emphasizes those individual qualities: Trigger’s commitment to always make the things that the creators themselves find most interesting. Though this is meant to ring true across the entire studio, it’s only once they make it to a position of power like the director’s seat that it becomes patently clear how, undeniable shared DNA aside, the studio is full of individual voices with styles and interests of their own. The person who vocalized that is Yoshihiro Miyajima, Dungeon Meshi’s debuting series directorSeries Director: (監督, kantoku): The person in charge of the entire production, both as a creative decision-maker and final supervisor. They outrank the rest of the staff and ultimately have the last word. Series with different levels of directors do exist however – Chief Director, Assistant Director, Series Episode Director, all sorts of non-standard roles. The hierarchy in those instances is a case by case scenario.. And his interests are… well, also Dungeon Meshi.

Miyajima is by no means a newcomer to Trigger. He has been tied to the company ever since its inception, having managed the second episode they produced on their own—and let me tell you, it’s probably not what you’re thinking of. Once he started climbing the ladder to positions with higher responsibilities, he became a recurring name in our dives into the studio’s productions. It quickly became apparent that his methodic approach and management savviness made him a valuable asset at the studio. In our recent writeup about the Gridman franchise, we pointed out that there’s such a gap between the way Imaishi, Yoshinari, and Amemiya manage the timings of their production, that not only is it observable from the outside, they also make jokes about it on the inside; which is to say that the first leading voices of the studio trended towards chaos and impossibly tight schedules, making Miyajima’s organized mindset very important. And, especially across Gridman and Dynazenon, he also proved that his orderly direction wasn’t at odds with an alluring sense of atmosphere either. Fair to say that he’s the complete package.

This is to note that there is more to Miyajima than being a huge fan of Dungeon Meshi, to preface an explanation of how big of a fan he is and how important that turned out to be. How much does he love the series? Enough to, in that previous interview, have joked about his mixed feelings when the series was first published and then obscure author Ryoko Kui set off to become a popular name; after all, he liked her before she was cool!

More importantly, though, Miyajima was enough of a fan to have pitched an adaptation of Dungeon Meshi after a single volume had been published, an idea that Trigger’s president Masahiko Otsuka shot down at the time. According to Otsuka, Trigger simply didn’t have the type of director suited to adapt someone else’s work. Given what has eventually happened, that shift proves the point we’ve been making: the studio has changed somewhat, because now they’re able to handle a project like this, but the reason they can do so is an individual who was there all along. Trigger is catching up to the diversity of points of view they already hosted, so viewers who want to grasp the studio ought to do the same.

That is a fine conclusion to draw regarding the studio as a whole, but the truly interesting part is how that connects to Dungeon Meshi’s adaptation. For starters, there’s that direct link between Miyajima’s love for the series and the project existing in the first place. Although his first proposal around 2015 was immediately shot down, a pitch to animate a commercial to commemorate the release of the 8th volume of the manga was floated in Trigger’s direction; in Febri’s series of interviews, Miyajima recalls it to be after Promare and thus just a few months before that volume, which tracks to his admission that they didn’t exactly have a lot of time to make the commercial. Upon catching wind of the job, Miyajima volunteered for the challenge and quickly gathered a team with other fans of the series.

Truth to be told, and despite the result turning out well enough, Miyajima was mentally prepared to let someone more experienced take over as the series directorSeries Director: (監督, kantoku): The person in charge of the entire production, both as a creative decision-maker and final supervisor. They outrank the rest of the staff and ultimately have the last word. Series with different levels of directors do exist however – Chief Director, Assistant Director, Series Episode Director, all sorts of non-standard roles. The hierarchy in those instances is a case by case scenario. for this eventual TV show; this wasn’t a case of an animated teaser leading to an already planned, fully-fledged adaptation, but rather two separate projects with very different scopes—and while it’s perfectly standard to allow inexperienced directors to handle an ad, there tends to be some pause when it comes to entrusting a popular manga to someone who has led no major projects.

Luckily for Miyajima, though, he had already earned the respect of Imaishi and Yoshinari, as both of them said everything would be alright with him as the director. In his own interview for Newtype, Kadokawa producer Kazufumi Kikushima confirms that he had his back as well. Kikushima notes that they had actually met around a decade ago for a project where both of them were relative newcomers, and they had hit it off due to their similar ages and situations. While he doesn’t name the title, he’s definitely referring to Ninja Slayer: his second title as producer and also the second show that Miyajima did any directorial work for. It’s always the project you last expect that ends up being the most significant.

Besides his constant pushing of the studio in the direction of the series, Miyajima’s feelings as an enthusiastic reader have remained an important factor. When asked about the struggles to bring Dungeon Meshi to life, he pointed first and foremost at the need to reconcile his role as director with his inner fan, who of course thinks that the source material is excellent as it is. This is important because, even with a director who understands a straightforward copy is never going to capture the charm of the original, and despite working with a studio known for their strong personality, the TV anime starts by playing it safer than many expected.

Though those expectations may have been a bit too dyed by that monolithic, Imaishi-like view of the studio, it’s undeniable that Miyajima’s adoration of Kui’s work will make him hesitate before any bold choice; he’s the first one to say that he’s very lucky that his directorial debut happened to coincide with a chance to work with an idol of his, but even that has its own drawbacks. Understanding those as well, Miyajima and his team set off to help make Kui’s bewitching setting reach even more people than the manga already did, noting that they’re relying on the visceral appeal of animation to make that world even more appealing. Now that a few episodes have been broadcast, it’s a fair time to ask: are they succeeding?

My short answer would be yes; the Dungeon Meshi anime may not be a definitive version of this story, but it’s a thoroughly competent alternative way to experience it, and it is indeed satisfying to see these characters move the way they do. For a bit of a longer answer, the first scene itself already tells us a lot about the different nuances of each version of this tale. After Kai Ikarashi’s haunting introductory sketches that summarize the myth of the titular dungeon, we see the party of main characters face two indomitable foes: a red dragon, and hunger.

The setup for the first major quest in Dungeon Meshi always felt like a microcosm of the series. The fight against the dragon in the manga is more comedic than anything else. A vehicle for a quick punchline delivered with Kui’s deadpan hilarity… but also a moment of tragedy and death as Falin—a member of the party, and the sister of their leader Laios—is eaten right as she teleports the others away. That immediate clash of tones could be an issue in a lesser series, but Dungeon Meshi is already introducing you to ideas like how uncomfortably nonchalant adventurers have become about death in a setting where it’s not necessarily permanent. Without getting too far ahead of ourselves in the first scene of the series, mortality is established as the central theme of a series that isn’t just about food but about ecosystems, while also making another important point right off the bat: Dungeon Meshi is damn funny, which is how it combines those stakes with the constant humor of a broke party who can’t help but eat whatever creatures they come across.

In contrast to that, the equivalent in the anime is cooler and more unabashedly dramatic. The joke hasn’t been written away, but Miyajima’s framing, Ichigo Kanno’s bold artwork (plus Yuuto Kaneko’s corrections as the monster supervisor with their LWA-esque energy), and right about every element at play aim for a more dramatic register than a deadpan Laios witnessing his party cartoonish defeat. On the whole, the anime is just as funny as the manga was, if not outright more so surrounding everyone’s beloved elf Marcille. And yet, it also seems fair to say that some of the off-kilter appeal is also being eroded away, as commonly happens when a quirky manga is turned into a high-profile anime. Miyajima’s respect for the manga is patently obvious, and the adaptation he leads offers new qualities as well, but there’s a reason I’m referring to this anime as a competent side piece and not one that supersedes the original. If you’re enjoying the show, I very much suggest you check out Kui’s manga as well.

Something else that quickly stands out in relation to the manga is how brisk the anime’s pacing is, which is perhaps the aspect I’m least positive about—even if it also ends up revealing how skilled some people in this team are. When it comes to the major choices made during pre-production, Dungeon Meshi gets my thumbs up mostly across the board. Naoki Takeda, another huge fan of the series, offers a very appealing interpretation of Kui’s artwork; again, one ever so slightly less quirky than the original, but with room to pivot into comedic form without having to make a huge deal about it. The decision to hire a food illustration specialist like Mao Momiji is immediately paying off, and overall the aesthetic choices are agreeable… even if I’ve historically been a bit put off by the way you can see the repeating digital brushes in studio Inspired’s backgrounds at points, but that’s a small pet peeve rather than an important issue—especially in a series where the setting is so conceptually rich that the art direction doesn’t have to carry its appeal.

When it comes to the decision of adapting two chapters (or three in the case of episode #02) per episode, though, I can’t help but wish for a more laid-back take on the series. It’s not as if the Dungeon Meshi anime is rushed in the grand scheme of things, but given Kui’s obsessive worldbuilding and how much supplementary material exists, it’s easy to imagine a series of more cohesive, self-contained adventures with one dungeon recipe per week.

As the third episode eventually proves, it’s simply more satisfying to focus on one bit of the world at a time when they’re all this neat—and as also seen in that episode, the team has a bright enough imagination to naturally insert original sequences as well. Mind you, I understand that there might have been external factors at play (like the desires of the committee), and that there is an upside to keeping up a pace that will lead to finishing a proper arc across these two cours. If you’re acquainted with the events of the manga and map out the rest of the series with 2 chapters per episode, you’ll notice that the issue of mixing multiple stories will diminish as the story evolves. As someone who loves these early stages of Dungeon Meshi, though, I’d have loved to leisurely spend time with them.

On the flipside, those limitations have come to showcase how resourceful the team is. The animation itself can lessen the need for expository dialogue in prevalent aspects like the cooking, as proved by Kazuki Chiba’s work in the first episode. Its tutorial-like precision combined with Dungeon Meshi’s inescapable background humor caught everyone’s attention, but a more understated example of this efficiency comes in the form of Laios fishing for a giant scorpion; rather than having a separate explanation of why that is allegedly easy to do like the manga does afterward, the more thorough depiction in the anime already exemplifies the creature’s downfall as it’s being caught. And that brings attention to someone else who is doing a superlative job: series composer Kimiko Ueno, who also wrote that script.

Given what we’ve just discussed about the overall structure and the need to merge episodic stories, Ueno’s job must have been hard, and that just makes me appreciate the result even more. As someone who knew her as a hilarious scriptwriter more than a resourceful series composer, Dungeon Meshi is making a good case for her being an all-around excellent anime writer.

I would point to the second episode—with a script by Nanami Higuchi—as one that exemplifies how smart that organization has been. As previously mentioned, it spans three different stories in the manga, and while thematically it can mask that as the first two are linked by Marcille’s struggles, it’s simply a lot of material to thread together gracefully. Much like the different flavors that director and storyboarder Takumi Ichikawa brought to the table, the adjustments on a writing level are subtle, yet quite neat when directly contrasted with the source material.

In the first chapter covered by the episode, the party meets inexperienced adventurers who struggle to face a Basilisk. The anime keeps their presence, but trims away a handful of gags (including the amazing punchline) and to be coherent with that diminished role, shifts the focus from them to the main party. What does that exactly mean? Rather than using their actions as an example of what not to do when facing this creature, it’s Marcille who is made to pathetically squirm away while the others give the same lecture; adding to her objectively funny bullying, but also undermining her self-esteem to build up to the following chapter which focuses on that. In the same way that it takes skill to expand upon material, a good streamlining process takes a lot more than the scissors to cut away scenes. The changes in the Dungeon Meshi anime may be minor, but there’s a clear train of thought to keep them internally coherent, and even to reinforce the character writing if possible.

Another big win for the writing so far is how, by successfully cramming more chapters than usual into the second episode, the third one was allowed to tell one singular story. And that one happens to be the moment that stood out to Miyajima himself as a demonstration of Kui’s ingenious worldbuilding. So far, the party had been eating fantastical animals and plants, but what if they came across some inorganic genre classics like living armors? Kui’s obsession with the ecology of the dungeon allows her to reimagine right about any creature as an active part of that ecosystem, and thus something that can become food in ways that surprise the reader and the characters alike. Turning an armor into the shell of a colony of mollusks that functions as a muscular system, pondering how that fits into its environment, and eventually which place it has in the overall mythos of the dungeon—those are the trains of thought that make her such a fascinating writer.

To accompany such a neat embodiment of the series’ writing, episode #03 was granted the storyboarding prowess of a complete newbie. Ok, let me correct that: it was granted the TV storyboarding debut of the aforementioned Ichigo Kanno, one of the biggest prodigies at Trigger. He’d caught my eye quite a while ago, and his progression ever since has only made him more interesting. On the one hand, Kanno’s personal works have always shown the pastoral beauty one might see in Ghibli works. On the other hand, he has learned under Ikarashi and can match his take on Kanada frenzy in a way arguably no one else is able to, even at a studio where such approaches are many people’s bread and butter. Coupled with the obvious storytelling ambitions you could grasp even within his sketches, it was only a matter of time before he was entrusted with some sort of directorial role.

One thing that immediately stands out is how thoroughly he transforms the visuals; unsurprisingly so, given that Kanno was also co-supervising the animation. While this pushes its look away from Takeda’s more straightforward interpretation of Kui’s manga in its default state, I’d argue that it ends up matching her spirit better than any other episode. Much of the charm of the humor in the manga comes from the lax, spontaneous-feeling drawings to depict the goofy characters—a feeling evoked by right about every shot in the third episode. At the same time, the layoutsLayouts (レイアウト): The drawings where animation is actually born; they expand the usually simple visual ideas from the storyboard into the actual skeleton of animation, detailing both the work of the key animator and the background artists. are all filtered through the eyes of a group of artists with a tendency for much more dramatic framing than we’re used to from Kui’s nonchalant pen, so the result still has an amusing flavor of its own.

The animation is funnier than it’s ever been, more outrageous—watch how it turns a couple of panels into Ikarashi’s childish cel extravaganza—and plainly cooler when the likes of Trigger ace sushio step in. All the in-house talent is supplemented with very interesting guests like Tetsuya Takeuchi (who has quite the story with Ikarashi as of late) and MYOUN. I would also like to shout out Haruki Sakamoto, whom people might not be aware is a personal friend of Kanno who had a short but interesting stint at Kyoto Animation; let him direct an episode too, he’s shown he’s got what it takes! All their eye-catching work is elevated by Kanno and episode director Koudai Nakano, who can modulate the tone of the episode through the depiction of the suits of armor alone; haunting in rusted form, a different type of menacing when lined up together, dangerous but goofy when the action kicks in, and fittingly, more organically drawn when Laios gets closer to their secret nature. By all means, on all levels, the third episode is Dungeon Meshi’s anime at its best.

Given how strong #03 was, I can’t blame people for hoping the entire series was closer to it, but I find this episode to be playing with the same sliders as the rest of the series. Taking it to this extreme relies on singular talents like Kanno, but the same elements are present to different degrees across the whole show; and given what we’ve already seen in promotional videos, soon we’ll have more episodes with a similar energy. Miyajima may be too much of a fan to boldly depart from the source material, and I would certainly enjoy the adaptation more if it embraced the episodic nature of their adventures like this recent double chapter did, but I can say that I’m pleased by what we’ve gotten so far. Here’s to more smart composition, funny delivery, occasionally bombastic animation, and elves getting owned.

---

Support us on Patreon to help us reach our new goal to sustain the animation archive at Sakugabooru, SakugaSakuga (作画): Technically drawing pictures but more specifically animation. Western fans have long since appropriated the word to refer to instances of particularly good animation, in the same way that a subset of Japanese fans do. Pretty integral to our sites' brand. Video on Youtube, as well as this SakugaSakuga (作画): Technically drawing pictures but more specifically animation. Western fans have long since appropriated the word to refer to instances of particularly good animation, in the same way that a subset of Japanese fans do. Pretty integral to our sites' brand. Blog. Thanks to everyone who’s helped out so far!

Become a Patron!