The 10 Best Avant-garde Anime of All Time

What does it mean? What are themes? If I turn my head to the side, will it make more sense? These are the sort of questions that you’d expect to overhear at the MoMA or the Guggenheim—but while watching anime? Can the medium really contain such high art ambition? After checking out these ten titles, the answer will be clear: it can. These surrealist masterpieces are among the most artistically challenging works of anime ever produced, designed to dazzle the eyes and boggle the mind. If you’re looking for anime that will expand your understanding of the medium—or just wanna sound smart talking about them at parties—check out the best avant-garde anime of all time.
Neon Genesis Evangelion

While Neon Genesis Evangelion begins as a relatively straightforward giant robots vs. alien kaiju story, the plot becomes more complicated as time goes on. This near-future world is invaded by extraterrestrials called “Angels,” and the government responds to the threat in the most rational way possible: by making middle schoolers pilot mechs to fight them. The logic only gets more absurd from there. The series dives deep into the fractured psychology of its main characters, whose minds are broken by combat with cosmic horrors. By the end of the series, Evangelion feels less like an anime and more like an animated version of the Book of Revelation. It’s hallucinatory, terrifying, and awe-inspiring, standard qualities of any divine being.
FLCL

Upon first glance at FLCL, one would think it’s the anime equivalent of Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, but one would be wrong. The pink-haired, moped-riding, Rickenbacker-playing Haruko Haruhara may look like an up-and-coming indie rocker, but she’s actually a space alien in disguise. What’s she doing on Earth? That’s hard to explain, but in a nutshell, Haruko came to bonk a middle school boy on the head with her bass, thereby creating a portal for giant alien robots to emerge through his cranium. She’ll then use these robots to summon a reality-warping space pirate, then consume it to become the most powerful being in the universe… I think? The plot of FLCL really doesn’t matter. Thematically, it’s a story about puberty and growing up, but like music itself, it’s really all about the vibe.
Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo

Despite being an adaptation of a coherent classic, Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo turns its 19th-century namesake entirely on its ear. A tale that originally took place during the Bonaparte years, this interpretation is set in 5053, when planet Earth is warring with the alien Eastern Empire. Imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, the titular Count swears revenge on those who wronged him, and carries it out with baroque flair. Despite the substance of the story being strong, it takes a back seat to the anime’s style: a technicolor hodgepodge of texture, color, and patterns. The finer points of the original narrative are deliberately blunted, making the Count’s motivations appear to follow a strange and dreamy logic. Unlike in the original novel, we’re not privy to the Count’s point of view—the anime’s story is told through the eyes of a young aristocrat named Albert. Poor Albert understands what he sees just as little as we do, but is equally dazzled by the sight.
Mononoke

Mononoke is an ukiyo-e painting viewed under the influence of LSD—a hallucinatory good time. Set in a technicolor interpretation of Edo-period Japan, the story follows a mysterious Medicine Seller as he rids the world of “mononoke,” or vengeful spirits. But exorcisms aren’t a matter of brute force: to banish a spirit, he must first discover its motives and origins. Each episode is a spiritual detective story, dreamlike vignettes in which Medicine Seller exposes the secrets of the dead by uncovering those of the living. Mononoke aren’t made in a vacuum—foul play is almost always involved. In a world of corrupt bureaucrats, bloodthirsty samurai, and monks devoid of faith, foul play is everywhere.
Angel’s Egg

The quintessential avant-garde anime film, Angel’s Egg is directed by Mamoru Oshii, responsible for the similarly opaque Ghost In The Shell. Its much-debated plot follows a nameless boy and girl through a decaying far-future world. She carries a large egg that she believes will hatch into an angel, while he spends his time dreaming about birds. The pair’s conversation wavers between the existential and the spiritual, discussing the origins of the world and the story of Noah’s Ark (told with a few embellishments). It’s a stunning film that puts style entirely over substance, a cinematic experience meant to be felt rather than understood. Mythical, theological, surreal as a Salvador Dali painting—Angel’s Egg is one of a kind.
The Boy and The Heron

While Hayao Miyazaki’s films have always played a little fast and loose with plot specifics, The Boy and The Heron sprints narrative certainty altogether. Inspired by Miyazaki’s childhood, the story follows a young boy sent to live in a rural estate after the death of his mother. While wandering the grounds, he discovers a mysterious tower hiding a portal to another world, and an equally enigmatic being that’s part man, part heron. As the boy and his feathered companion journey into another reality, the story soon dissolves into a dreamscape as beautiful as it is opaque. Carnivorous parakeets, pyrokinetic women, a wizard who holds the building blocks of the universe in his palm—this is one of Studio Ghibli’s most fantastical films to date.
Serial Experiments Lain

Serial Experiments Lain is a day in the lonely life of Lain, a middle school girl who is distant from her parents and peers. Her isolation is interrupted by an email from her classmate Chisa, which would be totally normal if Chisa hadn’t recently died. Chisa’s letter tells Lain that she has found new life in The Wired, a digital realm resembling the early internet. Chisa isn’t alone in cyberspace; she claims that God exists deep within the circuitry. A Y2k-coded acid trip, this anime redefines the idea of deus ex machina —God in the machine. Is it a benevolent God watching over us from a virtual world? Or is it something more strange and sinister? Hopefully, the answer doesn’t break Lain’s fragile, preteen mind.
Paprika

The poster child of avant-garde anime, Satoshi Kon’s Paprika is the dictionary definition of the dreamlike. The story takes place in a world forever changed by the DC Mini—a device that allows users to peep into people’s dreams. Researcher Dr. Atsuko Chiba makes unsanctioned use of the machine to dive into the minds of her psychiatric patients, appearing as her dream detective alter ego Paprika. While romping through people’s heads, she discovers a strange “dream parade” made up of gods, demons, and everyday objects that’s spreading across subconscious minds like an infection. An anime Inception, Paprika blurs the line between the waking and the sleeping world, and then erases it altogether.
Boogiepop Phantom

One of the most chilling horror anime series ever made, Boogiepop Phantom follows an ensemble cast boundd by a single event: each of them witnessed a mysterious pillar of light in the sky, appearing five years after a string of serial murders. When high schoolers around the city start dropping dead once more, the terrified populace points their fingers at Boogiepop—an urban legend rumored to be death incarnate. Boogiepop Phantom is technically the first installment in the greater Boogiepop franchise, which told out of order from the perspective of multiple unreliable narrators. To truly understand the overarching plot, you’d need to watch every piece of Boogiepop media—but if you’re just looking to experience this avant-garde creepfest as the creator intended, start with Phantom. It’s like a haunted house ride, terrifying because you don’t know what’s lurking around the corner.
Inu-Oh

Directed by Masaaki Yuasa, Inu-Oh is the story of 14th century best friends Inu-Oh and Tomona. One is a dancer with a supernaturally gifted body, the other is a blind biwa player who can see ghosts. Ostracized by Japanese society, the two young outcasts do what young outcasts do best—they start a band. By performing hair metal renditions of historical tales, they become both celebrities and targets of a government determined to suppress the facts of the past. An avant-garde pop concert rife with queer undertones—the feels channels David Bowie at his best. While the plot’s finer details are lost in the film’s exuberant style, the underlying meaning is clear: the young will always sing out against the establishment, and the establishment will always try to silence them—and fail every time.
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