Netflix’s new series captures the anxieties of early adulthood.
Who would have guessed that the next great Pokémon show would be an office comedy? Netflix’s new animated series Pokémon Concierge is set on a small island resort where human and nonhuman guests can get away from it all—if they can figure out how to relax. The show is designed to be a guaranteed hit with children—four short episodes, cute animal characters, almost no plot—but, given its workplace setting, it’s just as much fun for an adult audience. The show introduces Haru (voiced by Non in Japanese and by Karen Fukuhara in the English dub), a young human stuck at a crossroads familiar to any 20- or 30-something. After a series of mishaps in her professional and social life, Haru packs up and arrives at the Pokémon Resort, landing a job as a concierge.
On her second day, the kindly hotel boss, Ms. Watanabe, tells Haru that her job is to “make the Pokémon feel the exact same way that you do”—happy and relaxed. The only catch is that anxious, type-A Haru can’t stop working and struggles to take things in stride. Any small task or straightforward question tips Haru into an abyss of overthinking. When Ms. Watanabe asks Haru how her first day went, Haru pulls up an entire slideshow presentation replete with graphs and charts before realizing that her boss just wanted to know how she felt. Watching a Pokémon show whose main character has a job and social anxiety feels like watching the franchise grow up alongside its audience. For the Millennials who traded Pokemón cards in the 1990s, this series manages to address the nuances and worries of early adulthood.
Read: The longevity (and enormity) of Pokémon
Its exaggerated depiction of being a young employee mirrors other cross-generational animated shows, such as Sanrio’s workplace comedy Aggretsuko, in which a 25-year-old red panda purges her office exhaustion through death-metal karaoke, and Natasha Allegri’s pastel web series (later adapted for Netflix), Bee and PuppyCat, in which an unemployed 20-something takes odd jobs alongside her magical half-cat, half-dog companion. On all three shows, offices and freelance gigs become the backdrops for absurdist, slapstick plots in which characters navigate fantasy versions of familiar workplace problems. On Pokémon Concierge, for example, Haru finds companionship at work in an equally frazzled Psyduck, whose headaches manifest telekinetic energy—like the colleague who makes their issues everyone’s problems. The series wisely recognizes the dramatic potential of Psyduck, often the butt of the joke in the long-running anime source material, turning it into a relatable and surprisingly emotional character.
The show is wholesome and fun, and given that none of its four episodes passes the 15-minute mark, it’s perfect for a one-hour binge or for doling out over a few days. Half of the enjoyment comes from the story itself, and the other half comes from its stop-motion animation style. Rendered by Dwarf Studios, the rounded, fluffy bodies of our favorite Pokémon are brought to life in a way we’ve never seen before in shows or video games. Everything looks touchable and handmade, like a child’s craft elevated by professional design and detail. There is a delightful array of textures: Trees and bushes burst with tiny paper-and-plastic leaves. Human characters wear clothes printed with Pokémon designs. Many of the creatures themselves are made to look fuzzy. The Pokémon you’d expect to have hair are made from felted wool, while a smooth water-type such as Mudkip is crafted from the same colored plastic material that the human characters are made from. Watching the show is like watching your childhood toys come to life.
Sadly, the chances of moving to an idyllic island paradise for a job in which your only responsibility is to make sure that cute animals are having fun are slim. But we’ve all felt the flop sweat of indecision after our boss asks us a seemingly straightforward question. In the same way, we know what it’s like to make an intimidating life change and feel that decision alter us, even as we try to stay true to who we are. The show’s most heartwarming episode is the fourth, in which Haru helps a young Pokémon trainer who is concerned that his Pikachu is too quiet and shy—the opposite of how he thinks Pikachus should be. Haru encourages the boy to see his Pokémon’s “faults” as personality quirks, while Psyduck convinces the Pikachu to come out of its shell. Pokémon Concierge reminds viewers how important self-acceptance is, even as we remain open to growth. It’s a message applicable to every transition in life, from childhood to early adulthood—those periods in which we evolve, as Pokémon do, into better versions of ourselves.
How Pokémon Became an Office Comedy
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19.01.2024
Netflix’s new series captures the anxieties of early adulthood.
Who would have guessed that the next great Pokémon show would be an office comedy? Netflix’s new animated series Pokémon Concierge is set on a small island resort where human and nonhuman guests can get away from it all—if they can figure out how to relax. The show is designed to be a guaranteed hit with children—four short episodes, cute animal characters, almost no plot—but, given its workplace setting, it’s just as much fun for an adult audience. The show introduces Haru (voiced by Non in Japanese and by Karen Fukuhara in the English dub), a young human stuck at a crossroads familiar to any 20- or 30-something. After a series of mishaps in her professional and social life, Haru packs up and arrives at the Pokémon Resort, landing a job as a concierge.
On her second day, the kindly hotel boss, Ms. Watanabe, tells Haru that her job is to “make the Pokémon feel the exact same way that you do”—happy and relaxed. The only catch is that anxious, type-A Haru can’t stop working and struggles to take things in stride. Any small task or straightforward question tips Haru into an abyss of overthinking. When Ms.........
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