Apocalypse Now—Brought to You by Amazon Prime
There are cinematic endings, and then there are cinematic autopsies. Kamen Rider Amazons the Movie: The Last Judgement belongs to the latter. After two seasons of blood, philosophy, and man-eating melodrama, the film attempts to tie it all together with a bow made of entrails and regret. This is not so much a conclusion as it is a 90-minute existential crisis filmed with the confidence of a mid-tier fan edit.
The movie opens like it forgot to stretch. Two years have passed since Haruka Mizusawa, the human-Amazon hybrid and reluctant hero, went rogue. He’s being hunted by the Competitive Creatures Control Center, or 4C—a name that sounds like a shady cell phone company. Within five minutes, the audience is reminded of the grim, gritty tone of the Amazonsseries, which was essentially Power Rangers if everyone was depressed, bleeding, and morally compromised. Unfortunately, the film also reminds us of why the series didn’t need a sequel: it already said everything it had to say—repeatedly and loudly, over the sound of people eating each other.
Blood, Boredom, and Biotech
The plot feels like it was assembled from scraps left in a writer’s room after everyone went home. Haruka is saved by his estranged sister, Mizuki, and the pair stumble upon an orphanage that turns out to be a front for a literal Amazon farm—because apparently the Japanese government decided cannibalism was the future of agriculture. What follows is a grim parade of screaming children, moral lectures, and men in leather jackets punching each other over the ethics of eating mutant humans.
It’s a lot to process, and not in a good way. The film throws around ideas about humanity, consumption, and morality, but never commits to any of them. It’s like Soylent Green reimagined by someone who really loves monster suits. Every ten minutes, someone delivers a speech about “what it means to live,” which would be touching if the movie didn’t immediately undercut it with a decapitation or a sentimental flashback scored like an anime funeral.
Haruka and Jin: Two Men Enter, Nobody Cares
Haruka Mizusawa and his rival, Jin Takayama, have one of those brooding anime rivalries that should feel tragic but mostly plays like two angsty LinkedIn influencers arguing about “true purpose.” Haruka’s constant guilt and Jin’s constant self-righteousness make for riveting television—if you’re into watching philosophy majors fistfight in latex armor.
Their final confrontation is supposed to be the emotional climax, but by the time they start punching each other over the fate of mutant orphans, the film has already exhausted any sense of meaning. Haruka accuses Jin of losing his humanity, Jin accuses Haruka of weakness, and the audience accuses the filmmakers of cruelty for making us sit through another slow-motion explosion.
When Haruka finally kills Jin, it’s meant to symbolize growth, redemption, and the end of a tortured rivalry. Instead, it just feels like the end of a group project where one guy finally gives up and does everyone’s work himself.
Cannibal Orphans and Moral Confusion
There’s a running theme of humans consuming Amazons for survival—because nothing says “social commentary” like gourmet child cuisine. The orphanage subplot is as subtle as a hammer to the skull. The kids are being raised as livestock, and everyone seems oddly okay with it until someone actually eats one. Then, suddenly, it’s all tears and moral outrage.
The problem is, the movie doesn’t know what it’s condemning. Is it criticizing humanity’s exploitation of life? Is it lamenting the loss of innocence? Is it warning against the dangers of bioengineering? No one seems sure. The tone swings between bleak horror and after-school special, leaving the viewer dizzy and emotionally constipated.
And then there’s Muku, the doomed orphan who becomes the film’s emotional center. Her journey from self-sacrificing livestock to cannibalistic freedom fighter is undeniably grim. When she offers herself as food to save Haruka, it’s supposed to be tragic. Instead, it feels like a deleted scene from Attack on Titan where someone accidentally took the wrong script to set.
A Feast of Overacting
Acting in The Last Judgement ranges from earnest to alarmingly theatrical. Tom Fujita, as Haruka, spends the entire movie with the expression of a man who’s just remembered he left the stove on. Masashi Taniguchi’s Jin scowls his way through every scene like he’s been told he can’t leave until he delivers one more “I will protect life!” monologue.
Rena Takeda as Mizuki tries her best, but she’s given little to do besides oscillate between yelling “Haruka!” and looking meaningfully into the middle distance. The rest of the cast functions mostly as cannon fodder, props for the film’s blood-drenched moral metaphors.
Nobuo Kyo, playing the orphanage director Mido, chews scenery like he’s auditioning for Hannibal Lecter: The Musical. His transformation into a mechanical Amazon Rider could’ve been a highlight—if it weren’t filmed with all the visual excitement of a PowerPoint transition.
Action Without Impact
The action scenes, traditionally a saving grace for Kamen Rider, are disappointingly bland. The choreography feels sluggish, the effects look cheaper than ever, and the editing seems determined to hide whatever effort the stunt team put in. Every battle is drenched in darkness, shaky cam, and blood that looks like barbecue sauce.
In the series, violence served a purpose—it reflected the existential struggle between humanity and monstrosity. Here, it’s just punctuation between lectures. The fights don’t thrill, the kills don’t shock, and the climactic brawl between Haruka and Jin feels more like an endurance test than an emotional payoff.
The Gospel According to Nihilism
If there’s one thing The Last Judgement commits to, it’s despair. Every scene oozes hopelessness, as if the filmmakers wanted to make sure no one left the theater smiling. The film’s final moments—Haruka attempting suicide, hallucinating his sister, and deciding to keep living—are meant to be redemptive. But after two hours of bleakness, it lands less like catharsis and more like Stockholm syndrome.
There’s something almost admirable about the movie’s dedication to its misery. It’s rare to see a superhero film so utterly allergic to joy. If Marvel is a theme park, The Last Judgement is a haunted house that forgot to pay the electric bill.
The Final Verdict
Kamen Rider Amazons: The Last Judgement is not the epic conclusion it wants to be—it’s a long, blood-soaked shrug. It tries to be profound but only manages to be pretentious. It wants to horrify but mostly just confuses. For fans of the series, it’s a grim, exhausting coda that turns a compelling story about duality and morality into a sermon on futility.
This is the cinematic equivalent of chewing glass while someone whispers “life has no meaning” in your ear. The visuals are murky, the themes are heavy-handed, and the pacing makes a funeral procession look brisk.
In short: if you ever wanted to see a Kamen Rider movie that feels like an existential lecture delivered by a meat grinder, congratulations—your wait is over.
Final Score: 2 out of 5 Cannibalistic Orphans.
At least it’s consistent: everyone suffers equally, including the audience.
