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Assembled through a string of bizarre twists of fate and spearheaded by a tomboy princess known as 2nd Lieutenant Alice L. Malvin, a ragtag outfit of inexperienced yet well-intentioned military officers aspire to forge a positive, lasting impact in their community, their society, and the world at large through resolving one trivial, small-scale case after another. They are Section 3 (nicknamed the “Pumpkin Scissors” unit) of the Royal Empire militia; brought into existence by the Empire’s ceasefire with a rivaling country after a long, arduous, bloody, and pointless war, this unit, the archetypal “whipping boys” of the military, contributes in combating the after-effects of thewar (of which there are many) through relief efforts. Pumpkin Scissors is an anime that primarily follows the journey of Section 3, quietly observing as they navigate through increasingly deadly circumstances; along the way, it has (unfairly) attracted comparisons to a far more renowned work, that being Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist. Both titles are focused on post-World War I Europe from the perspective of the army but that is where all similarities end. Where Fullmetal Alchemist is entrenched in the fantastical, Pumpkin Scissors is more realistic. Where Fullmetal Alchemist strives for grand statements and a wide-reaching vision, Pumpkin Scissors instead advocates for a subtler approach. This is a show that catapults its’ viewpoints to the forefront through deceptively simple character interactions in a way that’s neither overbearing nor patronizing. Each and every character, from Oreldo (Section 3’s most laid-back officer) to a brothel owner, from the slimiest of aristocrats to a tutor of a princess, from the disposable mooks to the struggling mother of a newborn girl, and (of course) the great Lt. Alice L. Malvin, is given an opportunity to express their opinions, to critique various societal ills, and to offer suggestions on how to improve our world. At its core, Pumpkin Scissors is quite the intellectually engaging show, one that expects you to ponder, reflect on, and even question what’s being presented to you. However, it also understands that it can enjoy itself at the same time and, as a result, this show makes for one memorable experience.
When the military is mentioned in casual conversations, one’s mind naturally associates this term with excessive self-discipline, with rigid formations, with polished weaponry, with hours of marching, with screaming sergeants, and with gaudy displays of patriotism. Pumpkin Scissors’ central cast, however, sharply contrasts with the traditional perception of the military. Known for not taking themselves seriously, Section 3 wholeheartedly embraces an easygoing mindset and, for the most part, so does Pumpkin Scissors. Each assignment that’s designated to Section 3 is a joy for the soldiers to carry out and entertaining for the viewer to watch. In the hands of another show, standalones ranging from a package delivery to a missing baby would have amounted to a stiff, unengaging watch. Pumpkin Scissors, however, is special in its ability to transform the flimsiest of ideas, the most mundane of concepts, into something memorable. Its success in this area is due in large part to a mastery of observational humor; in other words, Pumpkin Scissors creates enjoyable experiences from ordinary circumstances by highlighting the comedic potential in them. Whether it’s by inserting sexual innuendos in unusual situations or subverting expectations with outlandish ideas, Pumpkin Scissors ensures its audience will never tire of its material. Of course, one cannot discuss this show’s humor without mentioning Oreldo and Lili. While Oreldo provides the aforementioned innuendos, alongside snarky one-liners and a solid character arc, Lili brings to the table a starkly different sense of humor. Her style of comedy is more physical than anything else but it’s also endearingly childish; Lili’s ability to coerce the rest of Section 3 into singing innocent chants alongside her never fails to put a smile on my face, and the same can be said for episode 18, which is the day in the spotlight that Lili more than deserved to have. By bringing together Oreldo’s deadpan charm and Lili’s whimsical nature, Pumpkin Scissors has two different forms of comic relief in its arsenal. That it’s capable and willing to utilize both is why its’ standalones are among this show’s greatest assets.
And yet, Pumpkin Scissors’ assortment of zany adventures are not merely self-contained stories; rather, they are all individual entities that are strung together by an overarching goal. Yes, the episodes, at least the earlier ones, are more than a little cartoonish but they all strive to examine isolated aspects of 1930s Europe, to zero in on the ailments of this society, and to present solutions to them. This show prides itself in its efforts to maintain a clear, unbiased outlook on its subject matter, and that pride is certainly warranted. On one end is the homeless, the desperate, the despondent, and the distraught. On the opposite end is the wealthy, completely unaware and unconcerned with the struggles of others. And in the middle is Pumpkin Scissors, lending an ear to both sides while arguing for a world in which equality reigns supreme. This show is one that offers its perspective to a multitude of topics, including gender equality, human rights, and the futility of war, but, at its core, it is a social commentary on classism. That Pumpkin Scissors would choose the 1930s-era Europe as the setting in which to present this issue is fitting because one would argue that at no point in history was the socioeconomic divide as prevalent as it was in the Great Depression.
In 1930, Austria and the United Kingdom, among others, abandoned using the “gold standard” as a monetary system; it was predicated on the value and quantity of gold, and because entire countries discontinued this system, it was a clear indication of gold’s worth. That, of course, was only the beginning. Banks began closing left and right, specifically Vienna’s Creditanstalt bank in 1931, which caused a massive economic uproar. By 1932, the value of the European trade had plummeted to a third of what it was in 1929. Everyone at the time was reeling from the Great Depression’s effects; the difference between the one percent and the majority was that the former was able to maintain a resemblance of their wealth while the latter lacked the luxuries to do so. In bleak times such as the 1930s, everyone wanted, no, needed to hear proposals to build a better society, one that wouldn’t lead to another Great Depression. Pumpkin Scissors’ perspective is one that’s worth looking into because its ideals are not only relevant to the time period it covers but they are applicable to our current society.
Through the assignments that Section 3 undertake, Pumpkin Scissors lands one opportunity after another to convey its message. Through each episode, more and more insight is offered into its subject matter. At first, the situations that are presented and Section 3’s solutions to them appear as black-and-white concepts, as symbolic of good and evil. Initially, the lower-class citizens are portrayed in the most positive light possible - in fact, one would argue that Pumpkin Scissors’ earliest episodes are essentially love letters to the working class - while the aristocrats are depicted as merciless monsters, lacking any empathy or concern for their fellow humans. This perspective, the glorification of the average joe and the demonization of the patrician, is hardly unique to Pumpkin Scissors (it’s extremely prevalent in our current environment and has been for years) but what makes this show special is its’ ability to transform this perspective into a narrative device. The members of Section 3, disillusioned with the socioeconomic structure, have developed a firm confidence in this perspective; interacting with corrupt nobles and humble commoners only serves to strengthen their beliefs. However, when Section 3 confronts more powerful obstacles later in the series, their way of thinking changes for the better. Pumpkin Scissors exposes the more sinister members of the working class, they with vile and opportunistic motives, alongside a more humanizing portrayal of the wealthy (specifically with Marquis Paul) for Section 3 and the viewers to see; at the same time, it presents its’ central message and its solution to classism: the only way that our society will ever improve is if we stop discriminating each other based on socioeconomic standings and encourage open discussions on how we can help each other. One might think this proposal is too idealistic - I, for one, certainly do - but what matters is that Pumpkin Scissors never states its claims as ultimate truths. What it values are ideas, plans that will change our communities for the better, and it seeks to influence its audience in formulating said ideas. Time after time, the conflicts that Section 3 are involved in are only resolved when both sides are willing to discuss their opinions, to respect the beliefs of those they disagree with, to discover similarities, and to reconcile with differences. Now, you might be tempted to think along the lines of “What happens if someone is unwilling to compromise or if they’re too stubborn to discuss a resolution with Section 3?”. Well, my friend, that’s where Randal Oland comes in.
Oland is Pumpkin Scissors’ protagonist and, while he doesn’t leave the strongest initial impression with viewers, it’s only when he’s utilized as a plot device that his potential as a character is fully realized. Don’t get me wrong; I like Oland. Mild-mannered and soft-spoken yet assertive when necessary, he’s a gentle giant that values the other members of Section 3 above all else. Oland’s a decent guy (my favorite memory of him is when, in a particularly touching scene, he prevents an injured and unemployed factory worker from killing himself) but, at the same time, he’s more than a little shallow and one-dimensional.. initially, at least. At various points in the show, there are times when Section 3 cannot resolve issues through normal means and it’s in these situations where Oland abandons his “nice guy” role. You know he means business when he flicks on that lantern he always carries. Illuminated by the ominous mist that emanates from his lantern, Oland, with the glazed, unhinged stare of a zombie and his infamous handgun (the “Door Knocker”), demolishes any overwhelming obstacle that Section 3 encounters, whether it be a tank or a squadron of trained killers, in an expedient fashion. Anytime the show’s writers find themselves in a dicey scenario, it’s Oland that almost always bails them out; he’s a walking deus ex machina. While it would be convenient for Pumpkin Scissors to leave this matter as is, Oland’s moments of invincibility are highlighted by the devastating after-effects that spawn from them.
Once upon a time, there was a mysterious division of the Royal Empire militia that was discontinued because of how ruthless its members were. This division was known as the “Invisible Nine” and Oland was among them. The scenes where he is forced to employ what he acquired from his “Invisible Nine” days are among Pumpkin Scissors’ most memorable moments. A Gregorian chorus screams in the background and the skies blacken as Oland’s Door Knocker wreaks havoc on all it comes in contact with. He slowly trudges toward his target, entirely unfazed by the bullets that decorate his body, as bystanders cannot resist gazing in horror. It’s understandable; after all, these scenes are frightening spectacles unlike any other. All of a sudden, it’s over. The Gregorian chorus fades into nothingness, the skies brighten, and Pumpkin Scissors resumes its regularly scheduled programming. As for Oland, he’s not as fortunate. See, when he activates his lantern, Oland’s not exactly invulnerable; his zombified state temporarily numbs the pain of whatever injury is inflicted on him so when he’s done destroying everything, any damage he absorbed along the way affects his body when he reverts to normal. Sure, Oland can automatically overpower any opponent he faces but that doesn’t amount to much when he has to be hospitalized immediately afterwards. Every fight that Oland involves himself in are accompanied by a collection of gruesome injuries and more than a few mental scars. Not only does he have to confront an inferiority complex (created because he feels he contributes nothing to Section 3 other than his wanton acts of destruction) but he also has to battle his PTSD (he’s reminded of his “Invisible Nine” days and the people he killed anytime he’s forced to use his lantern) and then there’s the thought in the back of his mind that he cannot resist mulling over. There are times when Oland imagines a day in which he’s forced to activate his lantern but is too frightened of the after-effects to go through with it, in which his overreliance on the lantern ends up destroying him. It’s when Pumpkin Scissors becomes a more serious show that Oland’s deepest, darkest fear morphs into a reality.
In a two-parter involving the kidnapping of Lt. Alice L. Malvin, the flaws of Section 3 emerge for all to see and the same can be said for Pumpkin Scissors itself. Our protagonists commit severe errors in judgment and the effects of these errors are colossal. For the first time ever (and not the last), Oland’s Door Knocker isn’t enough to save the day; he can barely defend himself, let alone fight, when a powerful assailant attacks him. Finally, the members of Section 3 fail in the protecting the lives of innocent civilians, also a first. This two-parter is the initial showing of this show’s potential, a vivid glimpse into what it can (and eventually does) accomplish later. With that, one would expect the succeeding episode to amplify the morbid atmosphere of the two-parter, to develop Oland’s inferiority complex, and to (at the very least) investigate into who Oland’s attacker works for (you know, what the show has been hinting about since its earliest episodes).
One would be incorrect.
Apparently, some big shot on the Pumpkin Scissors staff gave the aforementioned two-parter a hard look, observing the vilest corners of the human heart, the monstrosities of the Royal Empire, and the intensely emotional core of it all, and declared “For the next episode, I want a silly love story between Section 3’s most worthless member and a character nobody will ever see again. Yep; I really think this is an ideal fit for the narrative and tone of the series”. Episode 13 is not only a phenomenal waste of your time (the less said about Martis, his paper-thin characterization, and his relationship with a prepubescent girl, the better) but it’s also indicative of a bigger issue I have with Pumpkin Scissors, at least early on. I will trumpet its’ virtues from the highest rooftops if necessary but I cannot reconcile with the earlier episodes’ habit of slinking away from taking itself seriously. Time after time, whenever Pumpkin Scissors’ early episodes encounter anything that deviates from its fun-loving nature, there is a immediate shift in the other direction. Thankfully, it abandoned this habit as time progressed and Pumpkin Scissors is better because of it.
Even when the flaws of the earlier episodes are overlooked, there are a handful of shortcoming that some observers would opt for criticizing. While Pumpkin Scissors is quite the impressive show plot-wise, it flounders aesthetically. The background art is stiff, the color palette uninspired, and the CGI appalling; given that Studio Gonzo produced this show, it’s understandable that the CGI is as jarring as it is but the same cannot be said for the soundtrack. While the music is far from terrible, it’s not much to write home about, either. These shortcomings aren’t exactly flashing red lights; they aren’t severe enough to turn away potential viewers but at the same time, people actively looking for things to criticize, that only watch a show to attempt discovering what’s wrong with it, will immediately point to Pumpkin Scissors’ aesthetics and judge the entire show because of it.
Thank God, then, that it has 2nd Lt. Alice L. Malvin.
Alice is the sort of character that can make any viewing experience worthwhile; by any measure, she’s a show-stealer of the highest caliber. However, judging from what other critics have written about her, one wouldn’t exactly walk away with a positive impression of her. In the eyes of these critics, only the most rudimentary elements of Alice’s character are visible so they condemn her without dedicating any time to familiarizing themselves with her. According to them, Alice is nothing more than a nuisance, a pacifist that doesn’t advocate for her beliefs as much as she screams for them, and they dismiss her entirely because of this. Perhaps it’s because they (and anime viewers in general) feel uncomfortable around assertive women. Perhaps it’s because they view characters from a stereotypical lens. Whatever the case may be, to craft such a broad, sloppy depiction of Alice in your reviews and then flippantly write her off is a severe mistreatment of one of the greatest female protagonists this medium has to offer.
“Who does Section 3 exist for? For the sake of corrupt army officers, so we turn a blind eye while they get rich, so we can have meaningless jobs? Section 3 exists for the people! If we tuck our tails and play it safe, then we’re no better than those monsters that prey on the weak, the poor, and the innocent,” - Alice L. Malvin
A defender of the defenseless, a voice for the voiceless, Alice is a strong-willed idealist that’s never afraid of sharing her beliefs. Inspired as a child by her war-hero grandfather and his acts of valor, she dreams of bettering people’s lives like he once did. As captain of Section 3, Alice devotes the entirety of her being into each mission and, by proxy, her cause. She performs one impassioned oration after another, eloquently expatiating on her ideals and objectives, which not only invigorates the spirits of those around her but also rouses her spirits as well. However, Alice doesn’t exist just to monologue. Steadfastly loyal and stubborn to a dangerous degree, she’ll venture to the furthest of extremes for her beliefs, even if it involves risking her life in the process. On the one hand, the members of Section 3 are awestruck by the magnitude of Alice’s charisma and force of personality. On the other hand, they’re alternately concerned and frightened at the overwhelming effects of her stubbornness. Gradually, Alice realizes the unnecessarily hostile situations her willpower drags them into and, slowly but surely, she matures. Throughout the course of the series, Alice learns that pouring your heart and soul into minute activities exhausts your energy, that not every battle needs to be won, that forcing your beliefs onto others doesn’t always produce the desired results, that shouldering burdens by yourself isn’t a good idea. As a result, Alice develops into a more calm, rational, and controlled leader of men, one that isn’t as possessed by her passions. Where Alice once pontificated on what’s acceptable and not for a member of Section 3, now she allows them a greater level of freedom. Where Alice once involved herself in each and every conflict she observed, whether big or small, whether external or internal, now she’s willing to pick and choose only the most crucial ones. Alice’s ascent to maturity is undoubtedly among Pumpkin Scissors’ greatest feats; her arc is never emphasized or forced. Rather, it flows with the series’ overall narrative so seamlessly that it’s difficult to spot. During Pumpkin Scissors’ unforgettable finale, there is a beautiful scene where the wealthy and the unemployed finally come to terms with one another. Guns and pitchforks are tossed aside, differences are reconciled, sworn enemies dole out affectionate hugs, and the socioeconomic divide shrinks. It’s all thanks to Lt. Alice L. Malvin, who combined her fiery passion, her quixotic ideals, and the compromising nature she developed over time into a climatic speech that temporarily destroyed classism. She still has quite a ways to go before she meets the standard established by her grandfather but, when the credits roll, you feel confident in what Alice will accomplish in the future.
If you’re looking for a traditional ending, where the good guys completely vanquish the presence of evil, you won’t find it in Pumpkin Scissors. What this series’ conclusion lacks in a satisfying ending, it more than compensates with pragmatism. In the real world, systemic corruption, moral depravity and other societal ills cannot be washed away with the wave of a wand or a powerful punch. Evil will linger no matter what action we take; the best we can do is minimize its’ presence as much as possible. That Pumpkin Scissors realizes this is indicative of its’ distinction. That more than a few viewers neglect this distinction is truly a shame. Much like Section 3, Pumpkin Scissors receives far too little acclaim for what it achieves. While it’s aesthetically average, monotonous in the musical sense, and tonally flawed (again, early on), Pumpkin Scissors compensates with a grandiose display of intellect. It entices, excites, educates, and enlightens, sometimes all at once. With the sublime precision of a symphony conductor and the unbridled ferocity of a flash fire, Pumpkin Scissors confidently confronts its subject matter in such a way that few can compare. With that, I leave you with a speech from Lt. Alice L. Malvin.
“From now on, our opposition takes the form of people aggravating the damages of war by selfishly withholding aid and comfort from the common men and women of the Empire. And up until now, these aggravators have been able to hide from justice and they will continue to hide from us behind money, violence, and bureaucracy. These barriers are just like the outer skin of a pumpkin. This unit will become a blade, a blade of justice, one that cuts down those barriers just like the scissors we use to cut pumpkins on Halloween. We will proudly remain sharp and strong in our resolution to bring transgressors to justice. From this moment on, Pumpkin Scissors is our name!”
