My Top Seven Aspects of My Top Four Kamen Rider Shows: #1, Kamen Rider Faiz

It all comes down to this. For the final entry in this series, I’m going to be writing about one of the most infamous Kamen Rider shows ever. It’s the love it or hate it king of melodrama itself: Kamen Rider Faiz. This show aired primarily in 2003, and once again has its own unique setting and lore. It’s worth nothing, however, that this show has the same lead writer as Agito, Inoue, and therefore features a great deal of similarities to it, primarily subtextual ones. Faiz is one of the most well-regarded Kamen Rider shows in the series’ home country of Japan, but fan reception in the west has been much more uneven. Some people genuinely hate it, while others, like myself, swear by it. That it’s so contentious surely means that it’s not one to miss.

It’s the near future, and the next stage of human evolution is here. Many people have begun turning into superpowered beings named Orphnochs. Some undergo forced evolution, while others, like the friendly but emotional Kiba, evolve naturally. At the same time, a normal girl named Mari comes into possession of the high-tech Faiz belt, which grants one power equal to, if not greater than, the Orphnochs. She can’t wear it, but she soon meets a brash and gruff vagabond named Takumi who can. Gradually, Takumi is dragged into humanity’s silent conflict against the Orphnochs, which eventually results in him crossing paths with Kiba, as well as Kusaka, a childhood friend of Mari’s who dons the Kaixa belt.

With the premise set and major players introduced, let’s get into it one last time. Here are my seven favorite aspects of my absolute favorite Kamen Rider show.

7. The fallible sense of futurism

As alluded to in my description of the premise, Faiz is one of the 2000s-era Kamen Rider shows that leans the most into the series’ sci-fi roots. While Kuuga and Ryuki more or less take place in the “present,” and Agito‘s sci-fi proclivities only really shine through with the G3 system, Faiz‘s sense of futurism is everywhere. The rapid human evolution that provides the backbone of the overarching conflict is one of the most significant examples of this.

But there’s also the fact that the transformation gears are bonafide technology, almost similar to more advanced versions of Agito‘s G3 system. In fact, let’s look at this as a trend. Agito was the first Kamen Rider show to formally introduce the idea of a transformation gear being an entirely external device, rather than an ingrained one. This also meant that anyone “become” G3, which we already talked about in my Agito article. Then, Ryuki took this idea further by having everyone use an external device. I didn’t go into detail about this, but in Ryuki, everyone transforms using their card deck. Without it, they’re just a normal person. But Ryuki as a story wasn’t particularly interested in analyzing the implications of this, as it had other priorities.

Then, finally, we come to Faiz. One of the great many things that people either love or hate about Faiz is that the belts get passed around like hot potatoes. Takumi ostensibly is Faiz, Kusaka is Kaixa, and so on, but there are lots of episodes where either one or the other loses their belt somehow and doesn’t get to transform. I wrote in my article on Agito how it was likely the first Kamen Rider show to feature entire episodes where the protagonist never transforms, and Faiz feels like the natural culmination of that idea. But I’ll get more into that in the next entry.

One of the reasons that the belts gets passed around so often is that… well, there’s no way to put this that doesn’t sound stupid, but, simply, they fall off. Like, really easily. So, imagine that during the middle of a fight, Takumi’s Faiz belt just falls off, and the enemy picks it up and transforms. This happens more often than you’d think. Like I said, I know it might sound stupid, but it actually works surprisingly well with the show’s theming.

When I say that Faiz‘s sci-fi aesthetics are deeply fallible, this is what I mean. The technology is more advanced, absolutely, but it’s also woefully unoptimized. I mean, someone actually designed a belt to be worn in combat that falls off if you jiggle it around too much. What were they thinking? And yet, even in the real world, it’s not that uncommon for cutting edge technology to be surprisingly unintuitive. I mean, don’t even get me started on AI.

Faiz‘s sense of futurism is also enhanced by both how it synthesizes with the technology that was present when the show came out. The super-advanced Faiz and Kaixa belts both use cellphones as a primary activation device, but these cellphones also function as genuine phones. Except that they’re flip phones. Flip phones, in the future? It obviously makes sense when you consider that this show came out in 2003, but somehow, it also just feels right.

There’s also the fact that the belts all come with instruction manuals. You never actually see any of the characters reading them, but they’re plainly visible when they open the belt cases. I don’t have as much to say about this, I just think that it makes the world and its technology feel very lived-in.

Either way, the technology is Faiz isn’t perfect. Many stories with sci-fi aesthetics take the opportunity to veer into one of two extremes, or to combine both. In my experience, at least, it’s rare that a story creates a sense of technology that feels so humorously authentic.

6. The balance between heroes, anti-heroes, and villains

I’m just going to come out the gate and say this: Faiz has my favorite overall cast of any Kamen Rider show. Sure, Kuuga‘s strong links can hang with the best of them, Agito has a memorable trifecta of riders with some great supports, and Ryuki‘s colorful collection of riders is wonderfully unique. But, to me, Faiz has them all beat. One of most important ways that it achieves this is simply by how it divvies up its screen time.

Obviously, all Kamen Rider shows dedicate the majority of their runtime to the adventures of the protagonist and his entourage. But the key here is how much of a majority they dedicate. Faiz‘s three predecessors all have reasonably typical divisions, but Faiz ambitiously gives much less time to its heroes than normal. Instead, it spends a great deal of time focusing on its villains, as well as a separate group of anti-heroes led by Kiba.

This trio of anti-heroes is one of the strongest points in the show. Not uncoincidentally, Takumi also has two primary allies, not counting Kusaka. These two trios deliberately contrast each other, and the interweaving relationships between each is one of the show’s high points. At times, these relationships are comedic, and at others, more serious. The two trios can flip between friends or enemies at a moment’s notice. It’s a refreshing setup that provides plenty of drama.

Faiz‘s real villains are no slouches, either. While they’re not as deliberately tied to Takumi and his group, they’re nonetheless all interesting characters in their own rights. They’re also well organized, which helps keep the plot in order. The most important villains are members of an elite Orphnoch group called the Lucky Clover, and they report to another character who is arguably the big bad of the whole show.

I say “arguably” because this is actually one of my favorite questions to ask about Faiz. Just who is Faiz‘s genuine main antagonist? It’s a strange question to ask of a tokusatsu, since most generally have a pretty well-defined big bad. But Faiz takes on a more multifaceted approach. It’s not that the show lacks good candidates for the role of main antagonist, or that the characters aren’t well-defined. In fact, these are the show’s greatest strengths in this regard. In the end, it comes down to how exactly you define antagonist. Is it the story’s principal villain? The hero’s ultimate and final opponent? Or the character who personally clashes with the hero the most? Depending on which you believe, you’ll have a unique answer to this question.

Of course, all of this is not to say that the heroes are any less memorable than they usually are, either. Faiz‘s hero faction is one of Kamen Rider‘s best, if not the best. But the attention paid to the show’s other characters makes for a cast that’s much more well-rounded than the series’ usual fare. This results in some of the most cathartic drama that Kamen Rider has to offer.

5. The open-ended and cyclical ending

This is maybe a controversial pick, since Faiz‘s ending is… Hold on, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? Both my Kuuga and Ryuki entries talked about how much I love their endings in spite of their mixed contemporary reception. And it you’d believe it, Agito‘s ending is much the same, despite me not writing about it in my respective entry. It seems that this is something of a trend among Kamen Rider shows in this era. Depending on who you asked, they either didn’t know how to end, or they knew exactly how to end. Personally, I’d argue that Agito is really the only ending with any major issues, hence why it didn’t make the list.

Faiz‘s ending, however, is particularly special to me for two interconnected reasons. The first is how open-ended it is. Earlier endings, like Ryuki‘s, leave a lot up to interpretation, but Faiz is different. In something that isn’t terribly uncommon for stories in general but is particularly uncommon for tokusatsu, Faiz leaves surprisingly many of its conflicts unresolved. It’s not unsatisfying, as it gives all the resolution it needs to its most important aspect: the cast. But fans expecting a big, heroic, intense, and super climactic final battle will, like with Kuuga, find themselves somewhat disappointed.

The second reason why Faiz‘s ending is so special to me has to do with the meta of this list itself. I’ve touched upon it briefly before, but there’s certainly something to be said about the fact that my general preference for these shows is in reverse chronological order. Admittedly, I like each shows well enough that I’m comfortable putting them in almost any order. Almost. Faiz anywhere but comfortably on top would feel wrong, but Kuuga, Agito, and Ryuki are nearly interchangeable in my affection for each.

That being said, I have a deep appreciation for how each show builds upon and subverts its predecessors, hence why I’m very comfortable ranking them in this order. Agito is a perfect thematic sequel to Kuuga, lifting just enough familiar concepts while introducing ones all its own, in the end forging a unique but referential identity for itself. Ryuki perfectly expands upon Agito‘s alterations to Kamen Rider‘s status quo, particularly the inclusion of several major riders per show. And then Faiz combines Ryuki‘s subversions of Agito with an expansion upon Agito‘s late story ideas.

I have to say, while I’m certainly enjoying what I’ve watched of Blade so far, especially after the lead writer change, I definitely do miss this connective thread between the different Kamen Rider shows. But, on the other hand, if Blade tried to further expand upon the thematic canon of its four predecessors, it might end up diluting Faiz‘s ending. In which case, I’d rather something end cathartically than drag on for too long.

Indeed, part of my love for Faiz‘s ending can be put this way. Faiz‘s ending isn’t just the end of Faiz, it’s the ending of the entire thematic canon that started with Kuuga, continued through Agito and Ryuki, and then culminated here. Looking at Faiz this way is definitely subjective, and someone who watches these shows out of order will probably feel differently, but this is where it’s at for me. The open-endedness of the plot’s resolution and the rousing conclusiveness of the thematic resolution combine to make a perfect circle, something that will keep me mulling on this show and its three predecessors for a long, long time.

4. A complete and deliberate story

In the fourth point for my entry on Kuuga, I wrote about the logistical issues to consider when writing a tokusatsu. Running a continuous story for approximately fifty episodes and airing one a week with very few breaks sure sounds like it’s begging for something to go wrong. That way that other Kamen Rider shows and other tokusatsu shows in general have dealt with these issues is very commendable, but most of the time, this restriction is visible one way or another. Even when a show uses it to its advantage, like Kuuga does, you never really get the impression that the show was fully “thought out” since the beginning.

And then there’s Faiz. For all of Faiz‘s writing quirks, something it does remarkably well is its pacing. With Agito, I talked about how its slow pacing was something it used to its advantage, though this nonetheless ended up alienating certain Kamen Rider fans. I see this as much less of an issue with Faiz, despite it sharing the same writer as Agito. Faiz spreads out its big reveals much more evenly, whereas Agito saves nearly all of them for the end.

More than that, though, there’s how planned out Faiz seems. Some of the later reveals are foreshadowed surprisingly early on, in such a way that feels both subtle but deliberate. A major character’s death is foreshadowed in the very episode where they’re introduced. The setup for one of the show’s biggest reveals is delivered in the very first episode. I could go on, but for the sake of keeping things vague, I won’t. Let’s just say that it feels like all the twists were thought out well beforehand, which allows their delivery to feel equally shocking and natural.

Faiz, more than any other Kamen Rider show I’ve watched, has an ability to to evolve while never losing its core. The conflicts change as they grow but still maintain recognizability. The characters, too, grow more than is typical for most Kamen Rider shows. Rather than a cast of characters who are primarily reliable and well-defined, such as with Kuuga or Agito, Faiz has more in common with Ryuki‘s style, sporting a cast that is initially more underdeveloped, thus allowing them to grow and evolve more substantially. However, Faiz‘s intentionality makes this evolution more evenly spaced out than Ryuki‘s. The balance between different groups in the cast, as discussed in the sixth point on this list, also contributes to this.

In the end, though, the greatest tangible aspect of this strength is how it helps Faiz to feel like it’s truly about something. While plenty of Kamen Rider shows have strong themes, the way that these themes are expanded on often feels repetitive. A lack of direction can make a show feel like it’s going in circles, and while some Kamen Rider shows use this to their advantage, it nonetheless feels quite different from how most shows are structured. Faiz, then, is the exception that proves the rule.

Kamen Rider as a series has long questioned what it means to be a hero. After subverting this question in different ways, most prominently with Ryuki‘s abundance of non-heroic Kamen Riders, Faiz reflects this question in a unique way. At its core, Faiz is a story about what it means to be human. The natural and personal drama, as well as how it evolves, is key to exploring this much more grounded take on the Kamen Rider formula.

3. Masato Kusaka, evil ally

In my Agito article, I wrote about how Houjou is a prototype for a main character in Faiz. I wrote that Houjou is on the heroes’ side, for the most part, and that while he’s an ally, but not necessarily a friend. In the end, though, Houjou is grounded by the fact that it’s difficult to call him a truly evil person. He’s a pessimist, a cynic, and an opportunist, but I find it hard to call him irredeemable.

And then there’s Kusaka.

Each of the four shows in this series broke new ground in the secondary rider trope one way or another. Kuuga‘s Ichijo was the prototypical secondary rider, a key ally with a superhero’s heart but none of the powers. Agito‘s Hikawa was the first true secondary rider, and one who still stands tall as one of the best. Ryuki‘s Ren had a much more personal conflict with the protagonist, and was more of an on-and-off rival than a straightforward ally. All of this culminates in Kusaka, Faiz‘s secondary rider, one of the most infamous and controversial characters in all of Kamen Rider.

Kusaka’s controversy stems from the simple fact that, simply, he isn’t really a hero. His goals often align with Takumi’s, and each is willing to put up with the other so long as they’re fighting for the same thing, but they’re certainly not friends. Far from it. In fact, Takumi’s relationship with Kiba is much more indicative of the usual primary and secondary rider dynamic, barring the fact that Kiba is, well, not a rider. His relationship with Kusaka, on the other hand, is much more unique.

Kusaka’s motivation can be seen as a more extreme version of Ren’s. Both are fighting for the sake of one person. Their feelings for this person are genuine to a point, though Kusaka is certainly a more possessive person than Ren. Both of them are willing to make a temporary ally of the protagonist for the sake of protecting this person, but they also make it clear that they won’t hold back if the time comes for them to fight. But there’s a key difference between them. While we eventually learn that Ren is hiding a great deal of humanity beneath his gruff exterior, Kusaka is almost the opposite. His mask of well-mannered refinement hides a personality that is cruel, petulant, and manipulative.

Another reason for Kusaka’s infamy is that he’s practically the living embodiment of the phrase “I think I will cause problems on purpose.” So many of the interpersonal conflicts in Faiz stem from Kusaka’s compulsive pursuit of his own goals, his utter lack of empathy, and his willingness to manipulate anyone and everyone. Sometimes, Kusaka’s duplicity comes back to bite him. Most of the time, though, it doesn’t. Watching such an immoral person get away with so much just because he’s allied with the heroes is something that understandably doesn’t sit right with a lot of viewers, but it’s all in service of a good story.

As I stated before, Faiz is a show about what it means to be human. The monsters are more sympathetic than they’ve ever been, achieved in no small part thanks to Kiba’s small group of rogues. Kusaka, then, is the ever-important flipside of this idea. Kusaka is the inhuman human. Many of the Orphnochs are monsters on the outside trying to maintain their humanity within. Kusaka, conversely, is every bit a normal human on the outside, but lacks any of the internal traits that define a human. Compassion, thoughtfulness, altruism, heroism, love. All of the qualities we associate with the best of humanity are qualities that Kusaka lacks.

For better or worse, Kusaka is exceptionally unique as far as secondary riders go. As far as I can tell, few other secondaries have even attempted to match Kusaka’s wanton unlikability. Yes, he causes a hell of a lot of problems, but he’s also an irreplaceable piece of Faiz‘s puzzle. In the end, Kusaka ends up being one of those characters that I really just love to hate, and hate to love.

2. Takumi and Kiba’s romantic subtext

So, um… at least this is the last one, right? Some close variation of this aspect has appeared on three of the four entries in this series. Even on the sole exception, my entry for Agito, I wrote about the engaging crisscrossing of two of the male leads’ initially separate plotlines. Evidently, Kamen Rider is a series where the dynamics between male characters tend to be a highlight. Even without reading any romantic feelings therein, I think this is something that most Kamen Rider fans can agree on.

Takumi and Kiba’s relationship, however, is a particularly unique one. As mentioned before, Kiba is not a rider. Rather, he’s an Orphnoch, which categorically groups him with the villains rather than the heroes. For a protagonist to develop such an intricate relationship with one of the show’s “monsters” immediately distinguishes Faiz from the pack. Typically, the monsters in a given tokusatsu are mindless enemies for the hero or heroes to defeat. But in Faiz, many of the Orphnochs are genuine human beings. Kiba is the standout example of this idea.

Part of what makes Takumi and Kiba’s relationship so endearing is that, initially, they don’t bond as rider and Orphnoch. In fact, the encounters between Takumi as Faiz and Kiba’s Orphnoch form are laced with conflict. Like with Agito‘s dynamic between Shouichi and Ryou, Takumi and Kiba are not immediately aware of the other’s identity. This allows them to bond as people while fighting as rider and Orphnoch. Their relationship as two humans is, to me, the heart of the show.

Takumi and Kiba’s attempts to keep their identities a secret from the other are as humorous as they are tragic. Both of them see the other as an innocent passerby, someone unrelated to the secret war between humans and Orphnochs. It’s clear that, to both of them, there’s beauty in this innocence. It is precisely by not sharing this secret that each becomes a reprieve for the other. For a moment, these two individuals, whose lives are embroiled in this conflict, are able to relax. They’re able to appreciate the mundane joys of everyday life. They’re able to enjoy the childlike excitement of falling in love.

Of course, secrets as big as these have to come out eventually. I won’t mention when it does happen, but I think it happens at the perfect time. The moment where each discovers that their closest human friend and their sworn supernatural enemy are one and the same is heartbreaking. This leads into one of the more contentious plotlines in the show, which is their attempts to rectify this schism. Takumi and Kiba are very hesitant to talk to each other, often relying on go-betweens that inevitably end up misconstruing their messages. This has been known to annoy people who want their characters to act always logical all the time, but for those who prefer their characters to act like actual people, that is, fallible and imperfect, it’s incredibly compelling and tragic. Both Takumi and Kiba are so afraid of having their heart broken that they can’t meet the other face to face.

And without going into any real detail, the way that Takumi and Kiba’s dynamic is concluded is simply perfect. Much of the conflict in their relationship comes from misunderstandings and miscommunication. But what if they were both confronted with the same problem, both made to understand it just as well as the other, but still ended up disagreeing? Takumi and Kiba agree on a lot of things, but no two people agree on everything. The conclusion to their dynamic provides an incredibly solid foundation for Faiz‘s final stretch.

In a lot of ways, though, Takumi and Kiba are pretty far from being the definitive Kamen Rider male pairing. In the end, they lack either the inseparable partnership of Yusuke and Ichijo or the rider rivalry of Shinji and Ren. What they have instead, however, is a deep, earnest, and flawed sense of humanity. And that is what makes them my favorite, and what makes Faiz my favorite Kamen Rider show in general.

1. Takumi Inui, Kamen Rider King

Now, wait a minute. For Kuuga and Ryuki, the romantic subtext between the two male leads ended up topping the list. But for Faiz it’s only number two. And number one is just… the protagonist?

My reasoning here may be particular, but it’s what feels right to me. Takumi’s dynamic with Kiba is the most important overarching detail in his character arc, but it’s not the only detail. Rather, it can be said that my favorite aspect of Faiz on the whole is how these numerous details come together to form who is doubtlessly my favorite Kamen Rider character. There are plenty of other Kamen Rider characters who I could single out and talk about my love for in depth: Yusuke and Ichijo from Kuuga; Shouichi, Hikawa, and Ryou from Agito; Shinji, Ren, Tezuka, and Kitaoka from Ryuki; and Kiba, Kusaka, Mari, Kaido, and Murakami from Faiz… the list goes on.

But, to me, Takumi stands head and shoulders above them all.

Part of this has a surprisingly large amount to do with actor Kento Handa’s performance. Kamen Rider as a series has been host to, perhaps expectantly, a wide range of performances, both good and bad. Many of the actors are simply phoning it in, doing a serviceable job but little more. Other actors ham it up too much, leaning too far into the more eccentric aspects of their character and forgetting to ground them in humanity. (This is, believe it or not, much more of a problem in modern Kamen Rider than it was in any other era.)

Sometimes, though, you get actors who really give it their all, delivering an empowered but nuanced performance. Joe Odagiri as Yusuke is a big one. Satoshi Matsuda as Ren is another. Even in Faiz alone, Kento Handa has an impressive co-star to live up to in the late great Masayuki Izumi, who plays Kiba. (May he rest in peace.) And yet, Handa found a way to deliver what is not just my pick for the most sensitive, multilayered performance in all of Kamen Rider, but also one of my favorite television performances in general.

But a performance as good as Handa’s would be wasted if his character was poorly written. Thankfully, perfection begets perfection. Takumi’s arc is both incredibly endearing and wonderfully unique. When we meet Takumi, it’s difficult to be certain that he’s even the protagonist at all. As is a recurring theme in Faiz, he sort of just wanders into the plot by accident, and ends up embroiled in its conflict. On top of that, his personality is about as far from the usual archetype as you can get. This is another one of the ways in which Faiz brilliantly reflects Ryuki to paint a complimentary subversion of both Kuuga and Agito.

In my Ryuki article, I wrote about how Shinji’s sense of justice is no less strong than Yusuke or Shouichi’s, but he’s more immature and less intelligent. He has his predecessors’ hearts, but can’t match their brains. Takumi is similar but opposite. Whereas Shinji is intellectually unreliable, Takumi is emotionally unreliable. He has his predecessors’ brains, but can’t match their hearts. So while Ryuki was about Shinji growing mentally, Faiz is about Takumi growing emotionally. Neither is inherently better than the other, but the more personal and human nature of Takumi’s inner conflict appeals to me more, and is a huge part of what makes him my favorite.

Some of you may have noticed by now, but a lot of this list entry has been me comparing Takumi to other Kamen Rider characters, and explaining why, for me, he comes out on top. I’m not doing this to degrade any of the other characters. In fact, it’s just the opposite. Kuuga, Agito, and Ryuki are all shows that I deeply love. Obviously so, otherwise I wouldn’t have written about them in as much detail as I did. But Faiz is special. Not just because it’s Faiz, but because it’s the end of an era. As I’ve mentioned before, all four of the shows from Kuuga to Faiz have a gradual evolution where, if you look closely enough, you can see how each builds off of the other.

Takumi, then, is the culmination of that evolution. All of the new ground broken, all of the subversions and reflections and elaborations, all coalescing into one character. One man. And he’s not a perfect man at all. He’s not an ideal, nor is he, starting off, much of a hero. He’s flawed, imperfect, fallible, and immature. But beneath all that, he’s also gentle, loyal, self-sacrificing, and, yes, even heroic.

That’s why Takumi Inui is my Kamen Rider King. He’s the culmination of everything I love about Kamen Rider as a series. He’s proof that we can all be heroes, so long as we fight to protect the people we love.

Thank you all so much for joining me on this adventure. I’m going to write one final conclusion post, and hopefully have it out by the Wednesday. Until then, be well.