‘Pokémon Concierge’ review: The ultimate back-to-work watch
In the first 30 seconds of Netflix’s Pokémon Concierge, our protagonist Haru is pummeled with a week’s worth of life’s top tier bullshit. She’s dumped, her work bestie quits, she tanks a work presentation, and she steps in gum — twice.
After her terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week, Haru joins the Great Resignation and presumably rage applies for a job at the idyllic Pokémon Resort, where the sea sparkles and Bulbasaurs await with welcome leis. “Because of that, I am now here,” she says (voiced by In This Corner of the World‘s Non, dubbed in English by The Boy and the Heron‘s Karen Fukuhara), instantly plunging you into her dramatic life pivot.
Haru ditches the drudgery for an unreal realm of perfect weather, relatively low stakes, and waves of adorable, overly fluffy Pokémon, the kind of place that you might want to spend a few hours in every night after slogging it out at your own workplace. But it’s not a frivolous escape; director Iku Ogawa’s series is concerned with not sweating the small stuff, making lemonade from those dastardly proverbial lemons, and giving yourself a damn break.
If you’d like to rack off with us to a resort far, far away while you’re getting back into the swing of things, Pokémon Concierge is a delightful trip.
What is Pokémon Concierge about?
Directed by Ogawa, written by Harumi Doki, with concept art and character design by Tadahiro Uesugi, the series is the first Pokémon story told through long-form, stop-motion, puppet animation. Produced by Japan’s Dwarf Studios, Pokémon Concierge is set on an Elysian island resort for Pokémon and their trainers, where personalised service per Pokémon is paramount.
It’s a bonafide, Bougainvillea-filled oasis, with hammock-flanked swimming pools, a massage parlour, and blissfully crappy phone service, where Hoppips and Bellsprouts take joyrides with Dragonites, transport is by citrus orange e-scooter, and tour groups of chattering Pikachu routinely rock up to roll about on the lawn.
The main job of the concierges is to keep the Pokémon happy, and Haru’s helped by her friendly coworkers to find her way through her first days. There’s super chill rock climber/artist Alisa (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure‘s Fairouz Ai), exuberant cook/ fitness instructor Tyler (Alice in Borderland‘s Eita Okuno), as well as her supportive manager Watanabe (Yoshiko Takemura), a paragon of the professionalism resistance movement, who gives her basically no rules (she’s not a regular boss, she’s a cool boss). Haru’s daily duties are simply to befriend a Pokémon and show them a good time; in her case, it’s the elusive Psyduck.
Haru gradually learns to let go of her own extremely high personal expectations and connect with her colleagues and guests in a meaningful way. But it takes her a while, as a relatable, anxious, self-flagellating main character whose struggle with overthinking hits close to home.
Pokémon Concierge is quite simply beautiful
From the fluffy grass lawns to the crystal clear streams, the design of the Pokémon Resort is nothing short of a visual feast, namely thanks to Uesugi’s concept art and character design. Pokémon leave tiny stop-motion pawprints in the sand, and staff cook up glistening, gloopy, tantalising feasts. Each set piece is brimming with Pokémon Easter eggs in its design (the Pokeball-shaped teapots are a particular highlight). But the most notable element of Pokémon Concierge is the softness of the environment and in particular, the Pokémon themselves — a marked difference to the more angular design of other titles in the franchise.
Though the humans in the series are made of harder stuff, many of the squishy Pokémon in the series are made of a delightfully soft-looking felt or soft fabric — with the exception of the more rockhard Metagross and Graveler. Though it’s malleable, felt is a notoriously difficult material to work with in stop-motion — it’s the stuff Aardman wielded in Netflix’s Robin Robin. And it’s worth it, as the tactility of the Pokémon is one of the series’ biggest drawcards, all helmed by puppet manager Shuhei Harada.
A plush Dragonite soars through the sky, a fluffy Snorlax snoozes on the shore, and a dozen woolly Pikachu scramble about on the lawn (including the cutest, most forlorn Pikachu ever, maybe enough to rival the adorable Detective Pikachu). I could watch Skiploom nuzzling Psyduck in felt forever.
And among all of it, there’s Haru.
Haru is a deeply relatable overthinker of a protagonist
Though she’s working in paradise and the guests are universes away from those of The White Lotus, Haru still struggles to find her feet in her new job. She’s constantly in her own head, anxious over being tested, saying the wrong thing, or failing at a task. She chastises herself for even a moment of relaxation, undoing all that chill by chomping candy and working furiously on her laptop late at night on an activity report and setting personal work policies.
Eventually, Haru finds perspective in the playful silliness of the Pokémon, including the Pokémon on staff, reflecting on her personal strict standards of “professionalism” and exactly why they’re important or not.
“Recently, I’ve had a series of stressful incidents,” she tells her manager. “And it made me wonder, what is the point of my life?”
Haru, preach. But also, wow.
As the series progresses, Haru lets go — she even branches out in her wardrobe, moving from her beige blazer to a tropical print. Haru becomes elated over her phone’s flat battery, and her own anxiety naturally connects with Psyduck’s shyness. They’re a perfect team.
Pokémon Concierge is basically conflict-free TV
If you’re looking for a handful of pretty much conflict-free episodes to help you through the work week, you can’t really go wrong with Pokémon Concierge. It’s the Grace and Frankie of stop-motion animation, with the stakes low and the pay-off high. Think lighter Studio Ghibli tales like Kiki’s Delivery Service — there’s a little emotional conflict, but is there?
The series is so gentle the biggest dramas involve a Rattata and Furret breaking the “no running around the pool” rule, a Mudkip spitting merrily in Haru’s face, a Wingull committing pool float theft, and the case of a shy Pikachu. When catastrophes do happen in Pokémon Concierge (read: pool float theft), they’re resolved extremely quickly and delightfully, which is exactly what you want from a show during the work week.
While Haru can easily make a stress mountain out of a Diglett hill, her fellow resort staff teach her important lessons in perspective; Tyler laughs off dropping an entire pot of pie filling that isn’t his fault, and Alisa is so laid back she doesn’t bat an eyelid when a Pidgeot dive bombs into her just-painted canvas — “You really went for it, huh?” she says, deeply unfazed. “You were just letting off some steam.” They wholeheartedly embrace unpredictability, something that takes a while for Haru to get used to.
Whether you’ve been working through the end of the year or whether you’re just returning to the slog now, fire up Pokémon Concierge for a wholesome means of hanging on to any semblance of holiday energy — but with a little lesson on perspective and professionalism thrown in.
How to watch: Pokémon Concierge is now streaming on Netflix.