When Moonrise released on Netflix in April 2025, it was practically whispered‑quiet—no massive campaigns, no trailer blitz. But everything about its creative team whispered: Hiromu Arakawa (of Fullmetal Alchemist) designed the characters, Masashi Koizuka (who directed Attack on Titan seasons 2–3) directed, and Tow Ubukata (Psycho‑Pass) wrote the script. That kind of pedigree in anime is rare. I had to see it.
And that’s how I began the series—expecting visual fireworks, thoughtful world‑building, and a story that matched its ambition.
Moonrise takes place in a future in which Earth is controlled by an artificial intelligence known as Sapientia, which keeps the planet in peace by exiling criminals and toxic waste to the Moon, transforming it into a barren colony with inequality and unrest. After the terrorists kill the family of the protagonist, Jack Shadow, he enlists in a special Earth army squad VC3 to go to the Moon to track down the rebel leader, Bob Skylum.
However, this plan is put into a tangle when Jack learns that one of his childhood friends, Phil Ash, has joined the rebellion of the Moon Chains. A mission of vengeance turns into a bitter confrontation with friendship and ideology, as well as identity
Since the first episode, I was shocked by the animation. The CGI landscapes, space ships and lunar colonies of the WIT Studio were cinematic in nature, as if observing the realization of a space opera in HD. The Copernicus city on the moon was lived-in and glowing with neon lights and threatening buildings.
The action scenes were also amazing. The choreography of fights and big-scale strategies of Team VC3 provided the kinetic energy that I did not anticipate in a Netflix anime series, every movement was deliberate and rooted.
Jack is emotionally affected by this loss. His anger and inner turmoil driven by grief is not new, but is lent a certain weight by the performance of Chiaki Kobayashi. The defection of Phil increases the emotional dynamics- this is not an abstract foe but a division in common history and principles.
When the imagery is an ascending rocket, the narrations occasionally seem to have lost momentum halfway.
The show attempts to squeeze a trilogy-length storyline into only 18 episodes- introducing rebel groups, AI morality, genetic augmentation and even a weird subplot of the L-Zone- a menacing blue slime monster. Themes accumulate, and most of them are either not explored well or forgotten by the time the finale comes.
The rhythm becomes irregular. The first episodes are compact; the middle ones are expanded by flashbacks and numerous POVs that play with time and distort the flow of emotions. Significant character development dies in the middle of the plot. A character such as Rhys, a good grounding partner to Jack at first, is pushed aside and others, such as Mary and Zowan, are introduced without adequate development to be given emotional importance
Even the grandiose core conflict, between Earth and Moon, human and AI, has been misjudged by the end. Most of the most complicated groupings and thematic elements, colonialism, institutional injustice, meaning in war are either left dangling or finalized too soon
In spite of the inadequacies, Moonrise contains some dark splendors and emotional appeal.
There is a rooftop battle about Copernicus that is harshly dynamic. The scenes of space and the grief connect with the inside of him as Jack floats in silence. The emotional impact is even heavier when Jack and Phil face each other to the point that most anime battles cannot compare.
The finale is an effort to tie loose ends: the identity conflict in Jack, the redemption story of Phil, the fate of Sapientia, but it is unresolved in some aspects. That bitter sweet ending gave me hope, not that this show should be the best, but what it could have been.
It was like watching a work of art...at its development stage. The character moments, art and music (by Ryo Kawasaki) frequently glittered. Alternatively, the plot at other moments seemed a collection of un-fulfilled ideas thrown into a package of 18 episodes.
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But, what impressed me the most was its ambition. A question it posed was whether AI can really govern us morally. Does justice ignore the act of coloring the other as the enemy? How much does humankind have to pay in order to enjoy peace founded on exclusion?
The sorrow Jack experienced was the same as that of everybody. The route he followed used to raise a question in my mind: how many of our former friends are now on the side of opposing ideology and do they break the love that we shared?
The world-building in Moonrise could be a little breathless, but when Moonrise got it right: in slower-paced, character-driven moments, Moonrise had weight. The emotional strokes I am taking now: Earth is seen through the eyes of Jack on the lunar surface, the flashback of his childhood with Phil and the final confrontation that never ties anything up but leaves you thinking.
Moonrise is not an ideal show. It is hamstrung by pacing problems, over-extended subplotting and a rushed conclusion. But at its finest- it is gloriously beautiful, thematically ambitious, and emotionally powerful.
Moonrise is an inconsistent but ultimately worthwhile film as long as you go in expecting sci-fi world-building, cinematic visuals, philosophical themes and personal drama that runs deep and complex. Yet, in case you are hoping to find a tighter, more unified story with full character developments, then there are other stories to be found.
Would I Watch Again?
Yes, though mostly to experience those early episodes again: the world-rendering, the emotional provocations, and the visual poetry. I found myself sifting through scenes afterward, remembering the quieter moments that landed. And I left hoping for a second season—one that refines its storytelling and dares to go deeper.
Thumbnail is designed by me on pixelLab and other images are screenshot from the movie