At its best moments, Monogatari is a masterpiece of experimental animation, visual style, and storytelling. It’s a series of artistic, metaphorically supernatural occurrences rooted in Japanese folklore that apply on a much wider scale, dissecting deep-seated beliefs and ideologies held by society at large while feeling intimately personal. At its worst moments, Monogatari is a horny fan-service filled indulgence that sugarcoats predatory, pedophilic and incestual themes and behaviors with a flimsy excuse of meta-commentary and loopholes to make it easier on the viewer to not feel guilty and admit that they are, in essence, consuming and enjoying a consequence-free fantasy in which the hero can get away with sexual harassment because he’s (most of the time) a “nice person.”

The idea that you’re either “all for” or “all against” something is absolute baloney and downright childish. The good, interesting, and beautiful parts of Monogatari don’t nullify, make up for, or make the terrible parts “worth it.” The terrible parts of it don’t mean that Monogatari doesn’t bring anything to the table.