The twelfth and final episode of Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX has finally landed on Prime Video, bringing the curtain down on the newest installment of a mecha franchise that’s defined anime history for nearly 50 years. When I first covered its theatrical debut, my knowledge of the original series came secondhand via fandom chatter. But after completing the sidequests of watching the 1979 classic and sampling its sequel, I can say with confidence: GQuuuuuuX’s finale delivers a powerpayoff, but only if you’ve done the homework of watching the OG show that set it all in motion.
Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX, a joint venture between studio Sunrise and Khara, boasts writing from Neon Genesis Evangelion’s Hideaki Anno and FLCL’s Yoji Enokido, mech designs from Ikuto Yamashita (of Eva fame), character art from Pokémon designer Take, and is directed by Kazuya Tsurumaki, the visionary behind Rebuild of Evangelion, FLCL, and Diebuster fame. The premise rewrites history with a twist, where the original antagonist, Char Aznable, successfully steals protagonist Amuro Ray’s titular mech, reverse engineers its specs, and alters the course of events of the original anime’s “One Year War” in favor of his nation, Zeon. The moment Char is about to cinch success, he’s cast into a cosmic timeout, setting off the show’s actual plot. Enter Machu, Nyaan, and Shuji, three misfits who stumble into piloting Char’s rebanded Gundam and a mysterious prototype called the GQuuuuuuX years after his disappearance, sparking a new kind of battle where timelines bend and legacies collide.
GQuuuuuuX is littered with deep-cut Easter eggs and mechanical resurrections, chief among them being the return of the Psycho Gundam, a mech I pogged out for hard as a newfound Gundam fan, and I can only imagine tenured fans losing their minds. There’s even a subtle but potent tip of its hat at Zeta Gundam, its sequel series. These inclusions never feel intrusive. Instead, they’re the kind of thoughtful fanservice that rewards attention to viewers who “know ball” and feels earned in its execution. All of it is rendered with vibrant CG and 2D animation that somehow walks the line between spectacle and reverence.
OG players like Lady Kycilia and tragically overlooked Newtypes like Chalia Bull return with real narrative weight as the surrogate parents, pitting Machu and Nyaan against each other, transforming their throuple with the milquetoast Shuji (until its finale, to my surprise) into a gripping space Shakespearean tragedy.
At its core, GQuuuuuuX is a story about a multiverse collapsing in on itself. But, even more so, it’s metatextually about the generational pressure that every new Gundam series carries: measuring up to the seismic impact of the 1979 series. Zeta came the closest, at least in my tentative steps through the Universe Century catalog. Other shows, for all their innovations, can’t escape the long shadow cast by Char Aznable.
What GQuuuuuuX gets right, and audaciously so, is that it doesn’t step at the plate and gesture at Char’s legacy. Rather than fracturing timelines for the sake of novelty, the show remixes continuity with purpose, becoming a multiverse sequel that interrogates the past. At the center of that inquiry is the relationship that gave the original series its pulse: Char and Lalah Sune.
Spoilers for that.
In the original Gundam, Char, Lalah, and Amuro fall into a dynamic not unlike Zendaya and those two white bois in Challengers—only with psychic powers and giant robots. Char and Amuro may be bitter rivals on the battlefield, but their connection to Lalah—and the complicated, half-spoken romantic web that ties the three together—is the emotional core that gives the series its gravity.
That’s why one of the OG show’s most gutting moments was Lalah sacrificing herself in the heat of battle by intercepting Amuro’s attack meant to kill Char. Her death, delivered by the very hands of someone who loves her, sends shockwaves through both men, triggering a guilt that echoes across the rest of the original series and well into its sequel. It’s that tragic triangle, equal parts war and destiny, and doomed by the narrative that makes the original Gundam sing.
In many ways, GQuuuuuuX is once again The Char Aznable Show—a distinction that, frankly, I’d happily vote for any day of the week. The series transcends basic fanservice by steering its narrative away from the man himself and toward his ever-fraught bond with Lalah Sune, reframing her not just as a symbolic Newtype linchpin, but as the emotional culmination of the story itself. Instead of keeping her in the background as a spectral presence, the finale repositions their relationship as its final, devastating denouement.
Before an alternate-timeline Lalah even appears in episode nine, pilots Nyaan and Machu are drawn to a mysterious melody—the so-called “Lalah Song”— a glittering, otherworldly beacon that ignites a sparkling light show only they can see. Dubbed the “kira kira,” it becomes a psychic siren call and their shared obsession. Think of it as GQuuuuuuX’s version of FLCL’s “fooly cooly”—a provocative phrase folks don’t entirely know the meaning of, but get its meaning.
It’s here that the series shifts gears from a playful alternative history remix into a genuine sequel that dares to ask a question that’s been circling the fandom for decades: What if Lalah didn’t die? Instead of delivering easy fanservice or nostalgic bait, GQuuuuuuX offers a rich, surprising answer that reshapes our understanding of Char, Newtypes, and the legacy of Gundam itself.
In its final act, GQuuuuuuX lays all its cards on the table and flips its foundation entirely. Through Machu, we meet Alt-Universe Lalah, one who has already glimpsed her tragic fate from the original timeline and comes to terms with dying to save the man she loves. However, in a twist that reconfigures the show’s stakes, we learn that the original Lalah was spirited away into Machu’s timeline, trapped in the ocean inside the ship where she died, reimagined as a living MacGuffin, “Rose of Sharon.” In the show, Lalah is once again portrayed as an object of power that the villains intend to utilize in a genocidal plan to wipe out humanity and crown Newtypes as the sole, evolved heirs of the galaxy.
Then there’s Char, who in typical fashion, has been hiding in plain sight, coming out of the shadows in a finale where all of the show’s big players butt heads. But wait, there’s more. The biggest reveal is Shiji, a character who’s essentially just …around, reveals he’s a transplant from the original Gundam timeline who wants to destroy Machu’s universe.
With each reveal, GQuuuuuuX peels the layers back like a mecha nesting doll—but instead of losing the plot, it deepens its emotional core. In my reading of its finale, Shuji graduates from being a minor character to the spiritual echo of Amuro’s RX-78-2, haunted by the guilt of killing Lalah across infinite timelines. His mission isn’t destruction, it’s liberation. He wants to break the cycle, to free Lalah from the narrative that’s kept her locked in tragedy for half a century.
And somehow, the show—crafted by true mecha freaks who spent much of production arguing over which mobile suits could win in a fight—pulls off the most emotionally resonant Gundam anime in years. It goes full Rebuild of Evangelion, not just remixing canon but offering a sequel that dares to imagine healing where OG legends and fresh-faced pilots collide in a final battle that’s both about firepower and rewriting fate.
In the chaos, I got everything I could’ve hoped for as a born-again Gundam fan: Lalah gifting Char a full-blown Revolutionary Girl Utena-style magical girl transformation, a tag-team brawl where GFreD (the show’s Eva Unit One send up) and the titular GGuuuuuuX take on the original RX-78-2 in a handicap match so hype I found myself rooting for the legacy mech to lose. And then there’s Char getting a tender Code Geass-flavored finale with Lalah and queer, long overdue send off with Chalia Bull.
Controversially, even Amuro makes a cameo—one that hits hard in universe and feels gross in the way only anime can, by having his original voice actor Toru Furuya reprise his role following last year’s scandal where he admitted to having an affair and physically abusing a fan.
Distasteful as this element in the finale is, it's hard not to appreciate that GQuuuuuuX not only became required viewing in Gundam canon with gusto but also served as a gateway for newfound fans, giving the show a try and developing an interest in watching the original anime, myself included. When I spoke to director Tsurumaki about what he wanted the show’s impact to be, he said precisely that.
“Gundam is a series that has a long history. I watched it as a child, and it has continued on. It’s been around a long time. However, the generation of fans has really been extended. We now have many young generations who have never even watched the first Gundam. I think the first Gundam is extremely interesting, so I really want the young people to watch it because I know they will find it interesting as well,” Tsurumaki told me. “I hope that the new generation could also watch the old Gundam as well. If that is materialized, I would be really happy.”
Long story short, it pulls off the impossible, weaving a standalone tale that lightly scaffolds enough context for newcomers while anchoring its emotional payoff in the deep waters of the original Gundam series. By the time its credits roll. GQuuuuuuX doesn’t just earn its place in Gundam’s towering legacy; it canonizes itself, making it required viewing for any fan of the original series and funneling newfound fans to check out the original.
