#animationanalysis

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Flaws in Their Council

How the Magic High Commission operates makes no sense. Their supposed responsibility is to govern the laws of magic and maintain order in the multiverse, yet they’re shown to be corrupt—abusing their power to interfere in Mewni’s leadership, rewriting history, and bending rules whenever convenient. The Box of Truth exists precisely because even they aren’t above their own laws. But even that safeguard doesn’t stop them; they act without fear or accountability.

Each member holds immense power:

Hekapoo forged the Dimensional Scissors, used by countless beings to traverse the multiverse.

Omnitraxus Prime oversees space-time itself.

Rhombulus imprisons dangerous beings in crystal.

Lekmet presides over all magic.

Yet despite their godlike roles, they can be easily outsmarted or outright defeated by weaker beings, coming across more like fallible demi-gods than true cosmic authorities.

Their constant bickering only makes things worse. Like many mythological pantheons, they squabble endlessly, but unlike those myths, they lack a clear leader. Meetings quickly devolve into chaos, with Hekapoo and Rhombulus’ “immortal immaturity,” communication breakdowns with Omnitraxus, and Lekmet’s unintelligible speech (understood only by Rhombulus). Add hot-headed outsiders like Mina and Glossaryck, and the result is pure dysfunction.

To their credit, they don’t deliberately harm innocents. For example, when Rhombulus released Globgor expecting destruction, they still tried to prevent civilian casualties. They supported Mina and the Solarian coup under the belief Moon would keep things under control. Yet their celebrations as armored soldiers terrorized panicking villagers suggest their concern for innocents is questionable at best.

The Eclipsa plotline exposes their monopoly over magical justice. As Sean notes in Butterfly Trap, trials are rare because Rhombulus has free rein to crystalize anyone he deems dangerous, with only Lekmet occasionally checking his actions. When trials do occur, the Commission holds all the power—as Eclipsa’s trial shows, they can rule however they please. Fair gods would be admirable; corrupt ones are not.

They function as the closest thing to a governing authority in the multiverse, essentially a pantheon. Yet their focus is narrow, obsessed with Mewni’s internal politics, adopting its “Fantastic Racism” against monsters and irrational hatred of Eclipsa. With no checks or balances, Rhombulus can indefinitely imprison individuals based on gut feelings. Unlike mythic gods, they can actually be hurt, making their reckless behavior even dumber.

Despite being charged with running the universe and enforcing magical law, they’re nowhere near as powerful as their titles suggest. They’ve been beaten and strong-armed by forces like a half-wand-empowered, Toffee-possessed Ludo and even the Box of Truth. This is especially absurd in the case of Omnitraxus, who is supposed to embody space-time itself. Either the multiverse is smaller than implied, or someone else is really running things.

The Commission is clearly meant to be seen as divine rulers, and some characters in-universe treat them as such. But their methods are fallible, their personalities uncooperative, and their priorities misplaced. Their involvement in the conspiracy to erase Meteora and replace her with Festivia only underscores their corruption and indifference.

In the end, they’re less cosmic guardians and more uncaring gods.

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Flaws in Their Values

The Magic High Commission’s values are deeply flawed. They despise monsters, despite the fact that their own opinions on the subject are far from enlightened—and, as Star herself points out, they’re pretty much monsters themselves. The mere possibility of a monster wielding magic was enough for them to imprison Eclipsa and erase all evidence of her half-monster daughter. Hypocritically, they’re monstrous in appearance too, yet they cling to anti-monster prejudice.

They aren’t even native to Mewni, but after spending so much time there, they absorbed its pro-Mewman/anti-monster beliefs and made them their own—arguably worse, since they enforce them with cosmic authority. Most non-Mewmans who are arbitrarily exempt from Mewni’s prejudice simply tolerate it because it doesn’t affect them (sometimes begrudgingly, as with Tom). The Commission, however, genuinely believes monsters are inherently untrustworthy, to the point of replacing Mewni’s legitimate heir with an impostor just to prevent a monster from gaining magical power.

Despite their distrust, they themselves are bizarre and monstrous-looking to varying degrees. They even explicitly declare that monsters must never be given magic—while conveniently ignoring the fact that they themselves wield it.

Complicity with Other Creatures

In Cornonation, Rhombulus initially appears to be the only one opposing Eclipsa, even getting arrested for public endangerment. But once the Commission realizes Moon was backing him, they release him and throw their support behind Mina’s coup. Only Hekapoo raises concerns—and even then, only about Mina’s instability, not the morality of the plan.

Their prejudice directly caused Meteora’s family to lose the throne, subjecting her to years of abuse that twisted her into an unstable, tragic villain. Mina and her army only succeeded because the Commission sat back, did nothing, and later actively helped her.

They claim to hate Eclipsa, Globgor, and Meteora because the first two terrorized Mewmans and a monster child with magic was “too dangerous.” Yet they empowered Mina—a genocidal maniac whose actions nearly destroyed Mewni. And again, they’re not even human themselves.

They don’t freeze Mina, leaving her free to torment Mewni with her army. While they conspire with her, they fail to realize she’s becoming less controllable, pursuing her own agenda. Ultimately, they die as collateral damage in the plan to stop her. Mina was already plotting to overthrow Eclipsa before they allied with her, and only Hekapoo openly distrusted her motives. Mina eventually betrays Moon, making her intentions toward the Commission even more questionable.

And honestly, Mina would probably try to kill them anyway—

A. because they look like monsters, or

B. because they’re simply not on her side.

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Flaws in the System

The MHC are surprisingly weak. Heroes and villains alike outsmart them through intellect, sly maneuvers, or simply by turning their own powers against them, which causes endless problems.

Some weaknesses make sense—like the fritz affecting the multiverse, which gradually weakened them throughout Season 2 and allowed Toffee to defeat them easily. But their meetings almost always devolve into chaos and fighting. Between Hekapoo and Rhombulus’ “immortal immaturity,” constant communication issues with Omnitraxus, and the fact that their leader and only sane member, Lekmet, is unintelligible to anyone except Rhombulus, they struggle to even talk to one another. To make matters worse, hot-headed characters like Mina and Glossaryck often join in, escalating the bickering and conflict.

Hekapoo and Rhombulus may be centuries old, yet they act like a teenager and an impulsive child, respectively. Omnitraxus Prime is a partial exception—he can be goofy, but he’s far more mature and focused than the other two. Lekmet, meanwhile, completely subverts expectations by being elderly yet the most grounded of them all.

Because of these flaws, the cast can easily take advantage of them. And despite supposedly holding the role of multiversal control… they really suck.

Charged with running the universe and enforcing magical law, they should be formidable. Instead, they’ve been beaten and strong-armed by forces like a half-wand-empowered, Toffee-possessed Ludo and even the Box of Truth. This is especially ridiculous in the case of Omnitraxus, who is supposed to be the omnipresent embodiment of space-time itself!

Star and many others can outsmart—or simply overpower—them with ease.

[thatkaseyjames]

Some of the most chilling things in Samurai Jack aren’t explained. They just… exist. Mute. Massive. Watching. The way this show dipped into cosmic horror without saying a word? Chef’s kiss.

[johnny-2000s]

Excited to share my latest retrospective, where I dive into the fascinating world of Cartoon Network's 2010s pilot episodes! These early episodes laid the groundwork for some of the most beloved animated series and brought fresh, bold storytelling to a new generation.

From Adventure Time to Regular Show, these pilots defined a decade, showcasing unique art styles, memorable characters, and storytelling that pushed boundaries. Check out the video to see how these shows evolved from their beginnings and how they shaped a new era of animation!

[chols-animation-analysis]

A Lesson in Popularity from Watamote

We've all been there at least once in our lives. Working our nine to fives, wishing for a life more glamorous than the one's we tell ourselves we've "settled for". Some still hold on to a dream of fame and fortune and with ever new day of being stuck in the same job, town, or stalemate position we become more and more bitter with how things have turned out.

Tomoko from the anime WataMote has a similar situation. She's just starting High School. Being a young girl who's lifestyle finds her locked up in a room playing video games everyday, has become a major shut in. In starting high school, she hoped to make her "debut". However that didn't happen. Why? She suffers from what has to be the most extreme social anxiety condition anyone has ever seen. That and the fact that her classmates are some of the most unobservant people you could ever meet. From this failed first impression, Tomoko expresses both hateful and cruel thoughts on the popular people around her while at the same time day dreaming of being a part of the lives of the popular kids around her. The show revolves around her many attempts to be noticed and failing miserably going from hilariously tragic to pathetically saddening. Every episode would bring a small glimmer of hope that Tomoko would finally reach her goal of the day, only to have it taken from her. But by episode 12 and what some are suggesting will be the final episode due to lack of popularity in Japan (talk about a cruel irony), It ended in the oddest way. By episode 12 the only hopeful thing we see is a older student making at least one kind gesture towards Tomoko for who knows what reason. And with that we end this season with Tomoko looking at the description of a "unpopular girl" like she did in episode one with a narrator stating "this is an unpopular girl who's story doesn't matter" only this time she laughs about it.

I didn't get it. It was just an odd ending. Nothing seemed accomplished. I still loved the show but wasn't satisfied. That was until I saw a tweet.

It then all made sense to me. When we feel unhappy about being unpopular, it's just because we aren't recognized on the streets, or have our name up in lights, or are not praised by everyone.The thing we forget is that just because the world doesn't know who you are it doesn't mean you don't mean the world to someone else.  We all have at least one person who could not imagine a world without us. Someone who takes inspiration from the words we say, is moved by our struggles, and is happy when we are around. So what you only have only a few followers on twitter. So what you don't have an awesome video web series with dedicated fans. So what you don't go on tours with amazing artist.

No matter how you look at it, your popularity is not important. but you are.