In art school, they teach you the fundamentals of design before you learn how to do the "fun stuff." Students learn how to break the core rules of aesthetics with deliberate intention. If done well, headaches and eye sores are generally avoided. With Hazbin Hotel, the audience is treated to what happens when a creator's dream skips the fundamentals and goes straight to polishing an adolescent vanity project.
Just about every character is some combination of sharp angles, stripes, red & black hues, narrow features, long limbs and big eyes. This typically wouldn't be too bad, as plenty of animated shows have homogeneous character lineups. Unfortunately, the entire background for these characters consists of the exact same visual qualities, making for a disorienting, noisy experience. The drop-shadow applied behind the characters comes across as production damage control, an afterthought design choice used as a quick fix on a shaky art foundation.
With fast paced edits and rushed scenes introducing over a dozen or so characters through a handful of episodes, Hazbin Hotel quickly becomes a fever dream, practically transporting it's audience to a Hot Topic outlet store in 2007. The sense of humor feels like a relic from a time when anything deemed edgy online consisted of a few swear words and the audacity to challenge western religious standards. Keychains of Alastor or Angel Dust would fit right alongside a row of Happy Tree Friends and Bad Bunny jewelry.
And yet, the aesthetic choice of "pre-teens discovering My Chemical Romance" isn't what brings this show down. It's quite fun to watch characters you'd normally only see on your friend's deviantart page come to life on a professional budget. The production quality of the animation itself is consistently well polished. The animation is smooth, with incredible eye for detail and timing. Watching the characters dance, sing, curse or panic feels satisfying when they're not competing with the rest of the screen.
This show was made for screenshots, almost more than movement itself for some poorly paced scenes. Certain plot points feel forced and unnatural, with their sole purpose to communicate a specific note of context only relevant several episodes later. Taking a second or third look through a few character interactions is almost necessary to catch everything relevant to the story. Background characters hold just as much weight as the main stars, adding to the chaotic viewer experience. For folks even vaguely invested, it's worth pausing to take in all the details before you miss something.
Fortunately, the show's grassroots fanbase seem to single-handedly power this ambitious production forward. Without years of young viewers harnessing almost a cult-like level of dedication to the creator's portfolio, Hazbin Hotel is running a very risky business relying on shallow tropes, competing visual elements and hyper-paced plot beats. Let's hope season 2 pulls it together and redeems the first season's mistakes.
Just about every character is some combination of sharp angles, stripes, red & black hues, narrow features, long limbs and big eyes. This typically wouldn't be too bad, as plenty of animated shows have homogeneous character lineups. Unfortunately, the entire background for these characters consists of the exact same visual qualities, making for a disorienting, noisy experience. The drop-shadow applied behind the characters comes across as production damage control, an afterthought design choice used as a quick fix on a shaky art foundation.
With fast paced edits and rushed scenes introducing over a dozen or so characters through a handful of episodes, Hazbin Hotel quickly becomes a fever dream, practically transporting it's audience to a Hot Topic outlet store in 2007. The sense of humor feels like a relic from a time when anything deemed edgy online consisted of a few swear words and the audacity to challenge western religious standards. Keychains of Alastor or Angel Dust would fit right alongside a row of Happy Tree Friends and Bad Bunny jewelry.
And yet, the aesthetic choice of "pre-teens discovering My Chemical Romance" isn't what brings this show down. It's quite fun to watch characters you'd normally only see on your friend's deviantart page come to life on a professional budget. The production quality of the animation itself is consistently well polished. The animation is smooth, with incredible eye for detail and timing. Watching the characters dance, sing, curse or panic feels satisfying when they're not competing with the rest of the screen.
This show was made for screenshots, almost more than movement itself for some poorly paced scenes. Certain plot points feel forced and unnatural, with their sole purpose to communicate a specific note of context only relevant several episodes later. Taking a second or third look through a few character interactions is almost necessary to catch everything relevant to the story. Background characters hold just as much weight as the main stars, adding to the chaotic viewer experience. For folks even vaguely invested, it's worth pausing to take in all the details before you miss something.
Fortunately, the show's grassroots fanbase seem to single-handedly power this ambitious production forward. Without years of young viewers harnessing almost a cult-like level of dedication to the creator's portfolio, Hazbin Hotel is running a very risky business relying on shallow tropes, competing visual elements and hyper-paced plot beats. Let's hope season 2 pulls it together and redeems the first season's mistakes.