Death Note Review Why the Anime Still Hits Hard Years Later
Rushabh Bhosale
Years after its original 2006 release, Death Note continues to pull in first-time viewers who quickly understand why it earned its reputation. While anime fans debate endlessly about which series deserves the throne, this psychological thriller keeps proving its staying power. The question isn't whether it holds up—it's why it still feels uncomfortably relevant.
What Makes Death Note Different
A Premise That Immediately Commands Attention
The setup is deceptively simple: a high school student named Light Yagami discovers a notebook that kills anyone whose name is written in it. What separates Death Note from typical supernatural anime is how quickly it abandons the shock value of its premise to explore something deeper. Light doesn't hesitate or agonize for long. Within episodes, he's already committed to becoming judge, jury, and executioner for the entire world.
This isn't a story about whether power corrupts. It's about watching corruption happen in real-time, narrated by someone who genuinely believes he's doing the right thing. That's the hook that turns casual viewers into binge-watchers.
Why Light vs L Still Feels Electric
The Psychological Battle Between Light Yagami and L
The real genius of Death Note emerges when L enters the picture. As the eccentric detective determined to catch Light, L transforms the anime from a supernatural thriller into an elaborate chess match played with human lives. What makes their dynamic so gripping is that both characters are legitimately brilliant—the tension doesn't come from lucky breaks or convenient plot armor.
Every conversation between Light and L crackles with subtext. They're both trying to expose the other while maintaining their cover, leading to exchanges where a simple dinner invitation becomes a battle of wits. The L character introduced a detective archetype that anime would try to replicate for years, but rarely with the same impact. His strange mannerisms and sweet tooth aren't just quirks—they're part of a fully realized character whose oddness makes his genius more believable, not less.
The cat-and-mouse game between them elevates the entire series. You're watching two people who are always three steps ahead, except when they're not, and that's when things get messy.
Why These Themes Still Matter
Themes That Age Better Than Expected
Key themes:
- Who gets to decide justice?
- What happens when someone believes the ends justify the means?
- How does unchecked power reshape identity?
Light Yagami starts as a bored genius who wants to fix a broken system. The brilliance of the writing is that his descent isn't sudden—it's gradual, logical, and terrifying. Each compromise makes sense in isolation.
The anime explores ego and morality without offering easy answers. This moral ambiguity keeps Death Note in discussion threads on Reddit and beyond.
This slow, unsettling descent into moral absolutism mirrors the kind of psychological horror explored in Monster, where intelligence, ideology, and responsibility collide without easy answers.
The Writing That Makes It Work
Pacing and Writing That Respects Your Intelligence
The first half of Death Note represents some of the tightest plotting in anime thriller history. Episodes don't waste time. The writing assumes you're paying attention and rewards viewers who catch the smaller details.
What's remarkable is how much tension comes from conversations and internal monologues. This is an anime where the most exciting moments often involve people sitting in rooms, talking. When Light or L makes a move, you understand the logic even when you don't see it coming.
The Honest Truth About the Second Half
The Controversial Second Half
No Death Note review would be complete without addressing what happens after L's arc concludes. The shift divided audiences then and continues to spark debate in Death Note review Reddit discussions today.
The reality: The second half isn't bad—it's just not quite the same show. The new detectives Near and Mello are competent but they're following an act that's nearly impossible to match. The pacing becomes less consistent.
The good news: The ending delivers. The final confrontation provides closure that feels appropriate to everything the series built.
Style and Atmosphere
Visual Style and Soundtrack Supporting the Psychological Tone
Death Note's visual direction favors shadows and dramatic lighting. Characters are framed to emphasize isolation or opposition. Ryuk, the death god who drops the notebook, has a design that's both unsettling and oddly charismatic.
That sense of paranoia and mental fragmentation aligns closely with Perfect Blue, another anime classic that uses visual distortion and sound design to trap viewers inside a collapsing psyche.
The soundtrack does heavy lifting in building tension. Even scenes of Light eating chips become intense when the music treats every action like a calculated move.
Perfect for Non-Anime Fans
Why It Works Beyond the Anime Community
One reason Death Note shows up in Death Note review IMDB ratings with an impressive 8.9 score is its accessibility. You don't need to understand anime conventions to follow this story.
Why it's beginner-friendly:
- Minimal filler content
- Clear beginning, middle, and end
- Universal thriller elements
- No prior anime knowledge needed
Final Verdict
The Verdict
Rating: 9/10
Death Note remains a benchmark for psychological anime because it takes big swings and mostly connects. The premise is bold, the first half execution is nearly flawless, and even the weaker second half contains enough strong moments to justify the watch.
Should you watch it?
The Death Note age rating of TV-14 to TV-MA reflects violent content and mature themes. But the real intensity comes from the moral questions it raises about justice and power.
Why it still matters:
What makes Death Note still hit hard isn't nostalgia. It's the recognition that the questions about justice and power haven't gone away. Light Yagami's journey from idealistic student to something far darker remains one of anime's most compelling character studies.
For anyone looking for an anime thriller that respects intelligence and doesn't hold back, this is still the standard others are measured against. The notebook might be fiction, but the temptation it represents—the belief that you could fix everything if you just had enough power—that's uncomfortably real. And that's exactly why Death Note continues to find new audiences who can't look away.
Tags
Frequently Asked Questions
Is Death Note still worth watching today?
Yes. Death Note remains relevant because its themes of power, justice, and moral corruption are timeless. Its psychological tension and character writing still outperform most modern thrillers.
Why do people dislike the second half of Death Note?
The second half shifts focus after L’s arc, introducing Near and Mello. While not bad, it lacks the same intensity and pacing that defined the Light vs L dynamic, making it feel weaker by comparison.
Is Death Note good for first-time anime viewers?
Yes. Death Note is beginner-friendly with minimal filler, a clear storyline, and universal thriller elements that don’t rely on anime tropes or prior knowledge.
Next up
Why Made in Abyss Is Beautiful and Horrifying | Studio Ghibli Meets Body Horror
Made in Abyss (2017) weaponizes the contrast between its childlike Studio Ghibli-inspired art style and its brutal body horror to create uniquely unsettling storytelling. The series follows children Riko and Reg descending into a mysterious pit called the Abyss, where cute character designs collide with graphic violence, psychological trauma, and existential dread. The beauty—hand-painted backgrounds, whimsical creatures, wonder-filled exploration—makes the horror hit harder. When characters suffer horrific injuries or transformations, the contrast between what you see (adorable kids) and what happens to them (dismemberment, body horror, death) creates cognitive dissonance that haunts viewers long after watching. This isn't accidental—it's the core of what makes Made in Abyss both a masterpiece and deeply controversial. Since its 2017 release, Made in Abyss has maintained an 8.6+ rating on MyAnimeList and won the 2018 Anime of the Year award at Crunchyroll, proving its impact despite—or because of—its controversial content. The Deceptive First Impression Made in Abyss draws viewers in with delicate, storybook visuals and a childlike sense of wonder. The first episodes feel cozy—quirky interactions, whimsical creature designs, and soft character expressions that give off a sense of safety and innocence. The chibi-style animation reminds viewers of Studio Ghibli's warmest works. Hand-painted backgrounds rival theatrical productions. Sunlight hits the town of Orth beautifully, rivers weave through districts, and everything looks meticulously crafted. Then episode 10 happens. When the Mask Falls Off What appears at first to be a cutesy adventure story evolves into a claustrophobic, disturbing fable of single-minded determination and a desperate struggle against overwhelming odds that portrays both brutal violence and severe bodily mutilation involving children. The tonal shift doesn't arrive gradually. It lands with disturbing force—sudden violence, brutal injuries, psychological trauma, and body horror creep into the narrative, shattering any expectation of a fun adventure. Similar to how Evangelion uses mecha to explore depression, Made in Abyss uses its genre trappings (adventure anime) to smuggle in much darker themes about human cost and sacrifice. The Studio Ghibli Aesthetic Hiding Cosmic Horror The comparison to Studio Ghibli isn't superficial. Made in Abyss deliberately evokes that aesthetic—the organic, curvilinear art style, the fantasy environments, the attention to environmental detail that makes worlds feel lived-in. But where Ghibli uses that style to create comfort and wonder, Made in Abyss uses it as camouflage. Art Style as Weapon The art isn't just beautiful—it's strategically beautiful. The cuter the characters look, the more disturbing it becomes when terrible things happen to them. The Puni Plush aesthetic can be misleading. Made in Abyss is in fact a full-throated Cosmic Horror Story with a caliber of body horror and ultra-violence comparable to some of anime's most uncompromising dark fantasy. This creates cognitive dissonance. Your brain sees adorable children with big eyes and soft features. Then those same children suffer injuries depicted in agonizing, unflinching detail—bones breaking, flesh tearing, bodies transforming into something unrecognizable. The contrast makes both elements stronger. The beauty emphasizes the horror. The horror makes the beauty feel fragile, temporary, a thin veneer over something monstrous. The Abyss Itself: Beauty That Kills The Abyss is the series' central metaphor—a massive, mysterious pit filled with ancient relics, strange creatures, and otherworldly beauty that hides its grim nature. No one knows how deep it goes or how it came to be. It's an Eldritch Location that causes phenomena by sheer proximity. Time moves strangely in the depths. Trying to ascend causes life-threatening symptoms called "the Curse." The Descent as Metaphor Going into the Abyss is a one-way journey. Each layer down increases danger. The Curse ensures that returning becomes progressively impossible—mild nausea at shallow depths, intense pain deeper, hallucinations deeper still, and eventually death or transformation into something no longer human. This "no going back" motif solidifies the horror. You're stuck in your pursuit, trapped in Dante's Inferno's downward spiral with no escape route. This connects to how Mushishi shows problems that can't be fixed—some journeys don't have happy endings, some costs can't be undone. When Body Horror Happens to Children The series' most controversial aspect is its willingness to depict graphic violence and body horror involving child characters. The Poison Scene That Changes Everything Episode 10 features Riko being poisoned by an Orb Piercer. The poison works fast—her hand balloons grotesquely, blood pours from her eyes and ears. To save her life, Reg must break her arm with a rock, then amputate it while she screams in agony. The scene is brutal, extended, and unflinching. Smashing, screaming, and shredding fill the soundscape with disturbing vibes. It's rough and ugly in ways that would benefit from leaving elements implied rather than displayed. But that's the point. Made in Abyss refuses to look away. The series argues that if you're going to show children in danger, you have to show the actual consequences—not sanitized action-hero injuries that heal by next episode. This parallels the dark side of competition shown in 100 Meters anime—both series refuse to prettify suffering. Bondrewd: The Monster Who Loves The character who embodies Made in Abyss's thematic horror is Bondrewd, a White Whistle explorer who conducts human experimentation in the Abyss's depths. He's polite, articulate, even gentle in manner. He seems like a stand-up character. But he's responsible for atrocities carried out under the guise of progress and paternal care. The Mitty and Nanachi Tragedy Bondrewd tells two children—Mitty and Nanachi—that he'll send them deep into the Abyss then bring them back up to study the Curse's effects. When they ascend, Mitty takes the full force of the Curse. Her body transforms into a blob-like creature in constant pain, unable to die, screaming as Nanachi is forced to watch helplessly. Bondrewd then experiments on Mitty's immortal body, destroying and regenerating her organs repeatedly. The horror isn't just the body horror—it's that Bondrewd genuinely believes his work is righteous. He's the most memorable villain in recent memory, in the worst way. Despite the horror of his actions, he genuinely believes that his work is for progress, even as it destroys countless lives. The series questions whether intent matters when the outcome is monstrous. The Curse of the Abyss: Consequences That Matter Unlike most adventure anime where injuries heal conveniently, Made in Abyss enforces permanent consequences through the Curse system. How the Curse Works Each layer of the Abyss has a "Curse"—symptoms that occur when ascending: Layer 1: Mild dizziness and nausea Layer 2: Heavy nausea, headache, numbness Layer 3: Vertigo, hallucinations, balance loss Layer 4: Intense pain throughout body, bleeding from every orifice Layer 5: Complete sensory deprivation, self-harm, loss of humanity Layer 6: Death or loss of humanity/transformation into something monstrous This creates constant dread. Every step deeper makes returning more impossible. Characters can't just decide to leave—physics itself prevents escape. The Curse turns adventure into trap. Similar to why Monster feels more terrifying than horror anime, the horror comes from inevitability, not jump scares. Why the Beauty Makes the Horror Worse The series maintains visual beauty throughout its darkest moments. Even in the deepest, most dangerous layers, the Abyss remains stunning. Bioluminescent creatures glow softly. Underground ecosystems burst with color. Ancient ruins inspire awe. When Reg and Riko share quiet moments discovering new creatures, when they laugh together despite everything, when they create temporary safety in hostile territory—these moments make the horror that follows unbearable. You care about these characters. You want them to be okay. The series gives you reasons to hope, then systematically destroys that hope in ways that feel earned, not exploitative. For viewers seeking similar tonal whiplash, 10 underrated anime you probably missed includes other series that balance beauty with darkness. The Music That Shouldn't Work But Does Composer Kevin Penkin created a soundtrack that matches the visual contrast—beautiful, sometimes playful orchestration accompanying horrific scenes. The song "Underground River" begins slow and quiet, builds to sharp and blaring intensity, then mellows out. It contains meaningful lyrics highlighting themes of descent and discovery. "Hanezeve Caradhina" plays during tragic moments with haunting vocals that sound both ancient and alien. The music treats the Abyss as sacred, not evil—a place of wonder that happens to kill people. This creates emotional whiplash that reinforces the series' core tension: beauty and horror aren't opposites here. They're the same thing. Who Should (and Shouldn't) Watch This Watch If You: Appreciate anime that takes creative risks Can handle graphic content if it serves thematic purpose Enjoyed other "cute exterior, dark interior" series like Madoka Magica Want fantasy adventure that respects consequences Can separate art style from content maturity Skip If You: Can't handle body horror or child endangerment Prefer sanitized adventure stories Need happy resolutions to justify dark content Are sensitive to graphic depictions of suffering Expect art style to indicate content rating This connects to how Chainsaw Man feels wrong on purpose—discomfort can be intentional artistic choice. What Made in Abyss Actually Achieves The series succeeds at something rare: making beauty and horror inseparable. Most anime separate them—beautiful moments provide relief, horrific moments create contrast. Made in Abyss refuses this separation. Despite its heavy themes, the series maintains delicate balance through pacing that alternates between wonder, tension, and horror—preventing darker elements from becoming overwhelming while never sanitizing consequences. Nearly a decade after its 2017 premiere, Made in Abyss remains both celebrated and controversial. Its refusal to look away from the costs of adventure created something that haunts viewers in ways typical horror anime can't achieve. Because when horror wears the face of wonder, you can never look at wonder the same way again.