2.5/5 (Generous)
The first ten minutes, before the plot descends into chaos, are genuinely affecting. Hiro and Zero Two’s souls drifting through space, their memories unraveling like film reels, is a stunningly directed sequence. The shot of young Hiro reaching out to the picture book, juxtaposed with Zero Two’s hand fading, lands an emotional punch that the rest of the episode fails to support. You can feel the animators fighting for their lives to make you cry.
The tone is all over the place. One moment, we are having a quiet, philosophical conversation about memories. The next, we are watching a 200-foot-tall Zero Two fist-fight a planet. Then, we cut to a wedding. Then, Hiro and Zero Two literally evaporate into stardust. The episode has no breathing room. It’s moving so fast to cover the plot that it forgets to let the audience feel anything besides confusion. The Ugly (The Thematic Betrayal) Here is my biggest gripe with Episode 24: it betrays the show’s best theme. Darling in the FranXX Episode 24
Remember Ichigo? Goro? Mitsuru and Kokoro? In Episode 24, they are relegated to a Greek chorus in cockpits. They scream “Hiro!” a lot and fire generic missiles. After 23 episodes of relationship drama, their entire resolution is “we watch the main couple die and then we go repopulate the Earth.” Futoshi doesn’t get a line of closure. Zorome’s existential crisis about adults is never resolved. The show spent hours on soap opera dynamics only to abandon them for space lasers.
Watch the final montage on YouTube. Mute it after the tree blooms. Pretend the reincarnated kids walk away and live a normal life. That’s the ending the show deserved. You can feel the animators fighting for their
For the first 15 episodes, Darling in the FranXX was a brilliant metaphor for adolescent sexuality, performance anxiety, and toxic masculinity. The FranXX units required a male/female pair, and the show explored what happens when that connection is forced, broken, or genuine. Episode 24 throws that out the window.
The episode understands its central thesis—that love transcends form, memory, and even death. The image of the Strelitzia True Apus blooming into a giant, cosmic Zero Two is pure, unfiltered Trigger. It’s ridiculous, excessive, and for a single frame, it recaptures the manic joy of Episode 1. The next, we are watching a 200-foot-tall Zero
Hiro and Zero Two don’t “pilot” the final mech. They become it. Their individuality is erased. The show argues that the ultimate form of love is losing yourself completely—becoming a weapon of mass destruction. That’s not romance; that’s ego death. It’s the opposite of what made their relationship work in the beach episode (where they just enjoyed being kids). The finale glorifies a codependent suicide pact dressed in super robot armor. Darling in the FranXX Episode 24 is a beautiful lie. It looks gorgeous when you turn off your brain and let the swelling orchestral score wash over you. But the moment you poke at the plot—ask “why did VIRM exist?” or “what happened to the plantation adults?” or “did the Nines just die off-screen?”—the entire thing dissolves into pink dust.