The best anime of 2024 also has the best opening credits

Dandadan, Dandadan, Dandadan, Dandadan, Dandadan. Even before it got its anime adaptation, the title of one of this year’s best shows feels like it was destined to be turned into rhythm. Thank god the Japanese band behind the anime’s catchy and propulsive opening had the same idea, one that’s compelled over 32 million views and counting on YouTube alone (and that’s just one of its listings – there’s another on Netflix’s channel). The bouncy, fast-paced backing track already feels perfectly representative of this animated take on the manga by Yukinobu Tatsu, in a goofy, chaotic and idiosyncratic genre mash-up. 

The show itself, directed by Fūga Yamashiro with animation produced by Science Saru, is similarly flexible. A marriage of science fiction and horror, reflections on contemporary urban living and age-old folklore, high school romance and hard-hitting action, there’s a little bit of something for everybody. "Dandadan" is the story of Momo Ayase and Ken “Okarun” Takakura, two seemingly opposite classmates at school who are drawn together by a mutual fascination with the paranormal. Momo insists that ghosts and spirits are real, while Ken (whom Momo later nicknames Okarun) believes in aliens. 

Neither believe the other at first, before each land themselves into an encounter with those very things. Momo is abducted by aliens, Okarun is possessed by Turbo Granny, a spirit haunting a tunnel (and yes, Turbo Granny is the actual name of a spirit from Japanese urban legend). Both survive the experience, but gain strange new powers as a result, and use those to solve various hauntings and other abductions throughout this 12-episode run (with more to come next year). Not only that, but the two have to begin a search: during his possession by Turbo Granny, Okarun’s balls got stolen. 

Turbo Granny in "Dandadan" (Yukinobu Tatsu/Shueisha, DANDADAN Production Committee)

As well as the general mayhem that emerges it’s fun seeing how each episode of "Dandadan" highlights its different building blocks: One episode might be more ghostly, the next leaning more into sci-fi, with some surprisingly long stretches dedicated to fleshing out the budding romance between Momo and Okarun. In action-oriented anime, romance is usually an afterthought, but in "Dandadan" it's one of the driving forces of the story – including arcs about communication and anxiety that are surprisingly sincere and generous about these feelings, while giving a lot of space for characters to figure out some tangled emotions.

It’s the balancing act to the rest of the show’s sometimes willfully juvenile humor, which actually never tips into insufferable, just silly (though this is perhaps underselling how deranged the first couple of episodes are). The show has been a standout this year in part because of its sense of unpredictability as well as its sincere investment in its romance, and its eye-catching visual approach, which is perhaps not as experimental as the studio’s other work has been (though one standout episode has an astonishing first person conceit), but it’s consistently beautiful. 

Those "Dandadan" main titles

Directed by Abel Gongora of "Scott Pilgrim Takes Off" fame, the viral opening credits encompass all of these sides to the show. The backing song – performed by a band called Creepy Nuts, oddly appropriate for this – first kicks things off with wild and energetic rapping before settling into a gentler, poppy hook, almost reflective of the tonal swings in the show that follows. It’s also just an earworm, perhaps even surpassing Gongora’s last efforts as director on the opening for Science Saru’s "Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!!" which also went viral in its day.

The animation itself complements these change-ups beautifully – shifting art styles as it moves from the quickfire montage of detailed, goofy expressions hinting at the main cast’s personalities to the more heavily stylized touches, as the camera zooms out until the person in frame becomes a shape amidst a block color background. Interspersed throughout are some paintings of the various spirits and aliens, silhouetted against the block colors which within the show itself become strongly associated with them: each spiritual or alien encounter leading to the following scenes being taken over by that single block color. It’s not just a hint at the show’s own style, but a reference to its influences; many have noted that much of the opening refers back to that of the original "Ultraman," the monsters from which have inspired a lot of those in "Dandadan." This wild minute-and-a-half eventually settles into a hint at something more tender as the two main characters lean on each other and look at the stars. 

Momo in "Dandadan" (Yukinobu Tatsu/Shueisha, DANDADAN Production Committee)

All this and having style to spare, it’s also just fun. There’s giant crabs, guys running so fast they turn into a mess of jagged lines, there’s a maneki-neko doll running around, there’s dancing (modeled on moves from a Rihanna video, as pointed out by some eagle-eyed fans).

It speaks to something which has felt missing from a lot of television in recent years, as so many opening sequences have gotten tied up in feeling prestigious, leading down the same road of moody and atmospheric music over a montage of animated statues. Even the animated smash hit "Arcane," which is more eclectic than even "Dandadan" in its visual approach, fell into this same trap as it relented to these prestige TV trends.

"Dandadan’s" opening, for all the influences it proudly presents, doesn’t feel so anonymous. It has personality and energy, no anxiety about not being taken seriously. Admittedly, though on average they trend to being more, well, animated than a lot of TV main titles, anime opening and ending credits tend to follow their own medium's tropes. Think images of hands reaching out the sun, the protagonist running . . . somewhere, the cast falling out of the sky. You can get generic versions of these too; there’s no ironclad rule, and Gongora’s work on "Dandadan" (and "Eizouken") feel idiosyncratic within that space too. 

Still, they’re at the pinnacle of a format which can sometimes feel like an afterthought, as television gets absorbed more and more into an age of “Skip Intro” buttons and streamers attempting to push you through to the next episode as soon as possible. It should be said that there are notable recent exceptions: think "Peacemaker," "Pachinko" (I promise, I’m not just naming intros with dance routines), "Severance" or "Succession" (there you go). These are shows with different priorities, yes, and anime like "Dandadan" is looking toward pop sensibilities rather than HBO’s “it’s not TV” mindset, something many treat as aspirational. But openings like this (and like "Peacemaker") are part of the fun, a chance to capture the show in microcosm, and chasing trends feels like it diminishes that chance. 

Perhaps this is all part of my wider problem with streaming, the expectation to get everything at once, ravenously consume it, and click to the next thing, rather than have fun with the ritual of television, of seeing something on a weekly basis and growing familiar with it. I can’t get "Dandadan" out of my head, so I’ll be coming back. Why not have an opening that encourages you to sing the title?