it's an aburdist rampage through city streets and anime tropes. it's a coming-of-age story told through tongues unfamiliar. it's an aesthetic perfected. it's surreal. it's heartbreaking. it's a fucking blast, devoid of the pretentiousness that threatens to cripple every work to ever take itself seriously. the pinnacle of expression.
Show summary: punk-era Sogo Ishii raped Andy Warhol, spit out a son, that son married Freud's mother, took LSD and decided to rewrite Neon Genesis Evangelion. And that only scratches the surface of this surreal and ultimately hypnotic descent into the existential macabre, but one painted with bold primaries and Looney Tunes logic. There's even an extended South Park reference! and is therefore pure gold.
FLCL showcases enormously diverse techniques and styles in presenting simple themes in a willfully obscure way. The key to using this artistic meta-cognition is for it to reward the attentive and perceptive viewer, but it almost serves to pander rather than enlighten, wrapping people up in signifiers of complexity instead of getting them to wrap their heads around a truly complex work. Still, it was quite enjoyable.